Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2527100.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      Gen, M/M, F/M
  Fandom:
      Batman_(Movies_-_Nolan), Batman_-_All_Media_Types, Superman_-_All_Media
      Types, Iron_Man_(Movies)
  Relationship:
      Clark_Kent/Bruce_Wayne, Tony_Stark/Pepper_Potts, Harvey_Dent/Rachel
      Dawes, Talia_al_Ghul/Bane
  Character:
      Bruce_Wayne, Batman, Clark_Kent, Superman, Tony_Stark, Iron_Man, Jack
      Napier, Joker, Alfred_Pennyworth, Leslie_Thompkins, Lucius_Fox, Lois
      Lane, Pepper_Potts, Lex_Luthor, Obadiah_Stane, Jim_Gordon, OCs, Bane,
      Talia_al_Ghul, Harvey_Dent, Nick_Fury, Carmine_Falcone, Joe_Chill, Selina
      Kyle/Catwoman, Rachel_Dawes, Ra's_al_Ghul, Martha_Kent, Ubu
  Additional Tags:
      AU, Rape_Recovery, Rape_Aftermath, Post-Traumatic_Stress_Disorder_-_PTSD,
      Canon-Typical_Violence, Explicit_Language, Attempted_Rape/Non-Con,
      Murder, Friendship, Past_Child_Abuse, Past_Rape/Non-con, Torture,
      Threesome
  Series:
      Part 2 of Black_Butterfly
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-10-28 Completed: 2015-11-22 Chapters: 72/72 Words: 608479
****** Borrowed Wings ******
by abcd
Summary
     “Please, Clark, help me… Untie me… My arm hurts like then…”
     “Poor baby… Is that how you pleaded then? Ppppplease, Ccclarkkkk… He
     won’t come, Brucey. Superman has no time for whores and Iron Man,
     your… Tony, has more important things to do; you are alone, as you
     were your entire pathetic life. But I’m here for you: your destiny:
     comedy to your tragedy, as you are the tragedy to my comedy…”
***** Chapter 1 *****
“Please, Clark, help me… Untie me… My arm hurts like then…”
His voice was exactly as the last time he had spoken to him; the same suave
quality that made his mind and body relax to the point of paralysis, a
paralysis that howled for some satisfaction. But now the voice was vibrated by
weakness, a deep despair that transformed that voice to a child’s voice – a
scared, heavily abused child; a dying child…
And he was running, running with the full superhuman speed he was blessed with,
until he was seeing him. No, it was just the cape and the cowl, black and
menacing but empty, set on a rock, like a scarecrow, mocking him and his agony.
He slapped them in frustration and continued more urgently: Bruce had lost
Batman and now he was exposed… He must find him immediately but the corridor
seemed endless and he… he was starting to feel… exhausted? But he never felt
exhausted unless there was Kryptonite…
He could distinguish a fire burning a few feet away and then his eyes which
were no better than the human eyes now, saw the body he was looking for.
He was at the center of a bizarre space, neither a warehouse nor a cave,
hanging by his arms that were stretched above his head, his chained wrists
clenching and unclenching struggling in vain to fight the pain; he was sobbing
like an eight year old child, left alone in the cold. His body covered only
with battered and blood soaked loose sweatpants, every sculpted muscle in his
torso highlighted by the glistening sweat which Clark knew was induced by fever
and pain; and Clark realized that he shouldn't but he couldn’t but admire that
body.
Yet the blood was tearing Clark’s heart; his stomach had a deep but not lethal
slash and his heart had a menacing hole which seemed inflicted with an iron
stick; around the hole the flesh was black as if burned with iron. The blood
streams were running his entire body to end at a puddle under his bound,
immobile feet.
He couldn’t make out Bruce's face, since his exhausted head was sunk in his
chest, only his brunette locks were visible drenched in sweat and blood. His
respiration was labored
“Please, Clark…”
Clark wanted to rush, grab him and take him to safety but he couldn’t make even
a step as if something more powerful than him kept him pinned there, sadistic
enjoying Clark’s agony and frantic heartbeat seeing his… friend being tortured.
A high pitched shuddering sound pierced slowly the space and Clark realized
shocked that it was laughter, but laughter more terrifying and cruel than the
worst cursing.
“Poor baby…” a voice slurred mockingly “Is that how you pleaded then?” the
nasal, iron sarcastic sounds came closer making Clark’s spine shudder but Bruce
didn’t raise his head. “Ppppplease, Ccclarkkkk…” he mocked him. “He won’t come,
Bru-cey” the icy cold voice laughed “Superman has noooo time for whores and
Iron Man, your… Tony, has moooore important things to do; you are alone, as you
were before, as you were your entire pathetic life” the words were dragged in
the invisible tormenting mouth  “I’m the oooonly one for you; the oooonly one
that will always be here for youuuuu: your destiny, the comedy to your tragedy
because you are my completion: the tragedy to my comedy…”
Bruce agonizingly slow moved his head towards the voice and Clark could see
that his face was unmarred, beautiful as ever, as when the sunset’s golden rays
played with his porcelain skin and his gem-like eyes; the day he took him from
the alley in Metropolis and brought him asleep to the Manor.
His eyes were looking at the place from where the voice was heard but were
piercing Clark’s because he could see in them that Bruce believed everything
the voice said, that Superman wouldn't help him because he considered him a
whore, as Bruce was thinking for himself…
“I’d rather die than be your… ‘completion’!” his eyes shone with the
determination and strength that made Clark’s heart flap.
“Oooo! Hmm… Let’s see. I’m a fan of freeeeee will, like devil” Clark could
detect the shrug “soooo, I can grant you your…wish” the annoying ear-punishing
giggle broke free and  just before Clark’s eyes the hole at Bruce’s chest began
spurting blood covering the young man’s body till he closed his eyes and
stopped breathing.
“You see how good I am, Brucey? You say and I obey…” he giggled again “Till
tomorrow youuuuu may change your mind… I’ll always be here… I’ll never give you
to anyone because nobody can value you as I dooooo…” The voice was now entirely
serious without a speck of irony or mocking.
But then, as if the man had realized exactly that, he began laughing; a
ridiculous, spine-breaking laugh emanating hatred and indifference about
anything and anyone in the world. Like a devil enjoying himself among Hell's
flames. Clark clenched his teeth and tried to charge against the invisible man,
to save Bruce…
Clark jerked on the mattress. Mattress? He ruffled his hair and took a deep
breath to calm his heart; he was all sweaty.
He looked outside from his room's small wooden framed window at the farm. The
blue-black of the night had just begun to lighten at places foretelling the
imminent dawn.
He could hear his Ma’s pacing at the kitchen doing the first morning chores
accompanied by the morning TV shows.
“Poor sweatie!” he heard her voice radiating compassion and love and Clark
understood immediately to whom these emotions were directed and what these TV
shows were once again scouring cruelly .
Three weeks after Bruce’s testimony and with the Falcone trial still
continuing, journalists and gossipers were exploiting the Prince’s nightmare.
“How do you feel about Falcone’s certain life imprisonment ? Is the right
sentence? Our state doesn’t embrace death penalty; maybe it’s time to
reconsider our penalty system?”
Different journalists’ voices attacked Bruce the one and only time his pack of
colleagues cornered the young man, Clark among them.
“I won’t comment on justice’s decision, especially when the trial is still on.
But I’m satisfied that there’s no death penalty in our state; I have witnessed
enough death for two life times and I don’t think that this man’s death would
bring his victims back or would change anything in…”
Then, a Wayne Enterprises’ employee whom Clark recognized as Harvey’s father
rushed there and ‘saved’ his employer and benefactor from the carnivorous pack,
securing him a path to the Wayne Tower.
How much more they planned on twitching the blade inside the open wounds? Clark
sighed and instantly the images of the nightmare that had awoken him flashed in
his mind, enhanced by his sharp memory.
A shiver ran his back seeing again that desperate eyes, exactly as his Star –
no, he shouldn’t think about Bruce as if he was ‘his’; there was no hope for
that – was piercing him through the door of the bathroom in the former Falcone
Tower, when Chill raped him. And that voice was still ripping his hear with its
blend of the mature soft voice and the sweet and fearful of a little child…
The agony he had felt during the dream and made him jolt returned more
demanding; was Bruce really in danger?
He shook his head exasperated. It was only a dream, Kent, you just can’t forget
what you heard in that courtroom and you imagine constant dangers for him that
would give you an excuse to protect and show him the love he denied... On that,
his heart protested still aching.
But regardless of all these Bruce was doing fine. During his visit in Greece to
hand ‘The Knife of Justice’ to the Greek Prime Minister he had detected among
the strangers' heartbeats the unique beloved melody of Bruce's heartbeat –
finally, tranquil and strong, not the frantic, abnormal beat of Falcone’s toy –
.
Bruce had changed his mind and decided to deliver the half Black Butterfly
himself , because he thought that the people who gave it to his mother deserved
a more personal treatment and he wanted to thank them and explain the value of
their present so it wouldn't fall to the wrong hands.
So, Superman was welcomed by the government and the people of Greece in a
simple but honorific ceremony, receiving the gratitude he didn’t deserve, while
Bruce disembarked incognito Stark’s private jet; the Malibu tycoon had visited
the country to discuss the exploitation of some newly discovered oilfield,
offering his friend the necessary decoy, to meet the family to which the
priceless gem belonged.
Superman had suddenly heard his unique heartbeat and his own heart went crazy
but there were people beaming exhilarated to him and he couldn’t ignore them
and furthermore he didn’t want to invade Bruce’s privacy.
And now he was once again facing the temptation to search for the sound that
was so intoxicating for him; he knew that it’ll be elevating and painful at the
same time, because that heartbeat would make his memory replay the words this
wonderful being had said to him in front of his parents’ and his own grave,
under the same soundtrack of the determined and strong tone.
But he was worried from the gruesome dream and he wouldn’t calm down again if
he didn’t listen to that sound and make sure that Bruce was safe. He just
wanted to be lulled to sleep by these notes. It wasn’t like he was
eavesdropping or peeping, was it?
He set himself back to his mattress, covered his body with the soft, fluffy
blankets, wishing that they could be something fleshy, something with star
sapphires for eyes; rested his head on the pillow and closed his eyes focusing
his acute hearing on the twirling, frenzied sounds of the alert and sleeping
planet, looking for the one sound that could soothe and warm his craving body
up.
There! At California, Malibu, Stark’s wonder house, on the bedroom that was
brushed by the whispers of the ocean, he was sleeping. His heart’s relaxed
rhythm embroidering his slow, soft exhales that Clark was feeling caressing his
lips, mumbling promises; promises that Bruce would never speak, because Bruce
was feeling like a breathing dead among the living, destined only to protect
and help them live, waiting the moment he’d be able to return to the safe haven
of his true home at the side of his parents…
Clark’s thirsty eyes were seeing him under his eyelids, lying in the king sized
bed seemingly relaxed but with his powerful muscles constantly in vigilant, as
his mentor taught him. The white silk of the sheet had been carelessly tossed,
leaving his sculpted, enticing torso naked, exposed to his intrusive eyes; his
breasts heaving slowly like the notes of a cobra charmer, his neck slightly
bent revealing the delicious spot where jaw bone and neck meet to create a warm
nest for Clark’s lips; Bruce's lips half opened hot and velvety, calling him…
He let Bruce’s breath fill his ears, his body and mind carrying him away to the
oceans of his eyes and to the skies where he wanted to fly with him; the moon’s
silver hue brushing the naked body that shivered in his arms - a body that
wanted to hide in Clark’s body to find some safety and warmth…
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The sun was blinding, although spring was still only a newborn, emanating a
bizarre jubilance so unlike the sun of Gotham, especially when you have spent
almost your entire life imprisoned in a cave – cell. It was so unrealistic this
sun that he was staring at it for a long time till his nocturnal eyes protested
so angrily that he cast his stare at the deep blue horizon.
His bare feet was enjoying the feeling of the wet, solid sand where Malibu's
wild waves crushed; his hands deeply in his jeans’ pockets, his back turned at
the spot where Tony was windsurfing his carefree laughter towering the sea
sounds. His friend just loved the cool waters of the early spring. If only he
could be like him just for a couple of minutes…
He yanked his head and sucked the sea breeze that was pleasantly cold and salt
smelling, sweeping his mind from all the burdens of his life, from every guilt
and pain he was suffering and burying deep inside to manage a smile in front of
his friends. A pair of seagulls flew above him, gracious and majestic in their
freedom, their poetic cries enhancing the relaxation the breeze was spreading
inside him.
And that sun was so gentle to him, trying to warm him to his core, as Clark’s
body had tried to do, when he was dying from Ra’s’ poison…
No, not Clark. He must not retreat from what he had said to him that day; Clark
deserved something better and he couldn’t give that to him so he wouldn’t
condemn the man to follow him in his steep, twisted path. He didn’t regret his
decision; he only regretted the pain Clark felt – he wished this good man never
had met him so he could be spared from the hurt.
He saw him at Greece in full Superman regalia delivering Alexander the Great’s
dagger to the Greek Prime Minister, as Bruce had asked him to, taking advantage
once again of his superhuman goodness. He watched the plain but honestly
honorific ceremony on the plasma TV inside Tony’s jet, during his departure
from the country with the Black Butterfly still at his possession though he had
traveled there to give it himself to the people to whom it belonged.
Superman was happy among people beaming at him with gratitude and his
beautiful, unique blue eyes were bluer reflecting the clear blue of the
cloudless sky; it was a beautiful day the ceremony day, the weather celebrating
as well although still too early in the spring. His ‘friend’ was imposing and
dashing, a sun in flesh and blood; the sun to his ice… And when the sun
approaches the ice, the one destroys the other, the sun rising again after the
winter but the ice melting and vanishing, sinking in the earth to give life to
other lives which the sun will help to thrive…
He closed his eyes and saw again the glimmering brown eyes of the young woman,
the daughter of the family which owned the Black Butterfly. Those eyes were
bewitching, haunting like the eyes of a goddess, solemn and wise, despite her
24 years.
His mother had kept meticulously data about the people that gave her the
legendary gem in order to be able to find them again and return the diamond
explaining to them its value. He used that data and searching at the Greek
public archives found them at the same location as they were living before
approximately 20 years.
Tony descended his jet’s stairway to a storm of journalists eager to gain
details about the important deal he was to make with the government to exploit
the newly discovered oilfield. He and Pepper drag the pack along with them and
he managed to leave the private jetport unnoticed, taking a cub. His plain
clothes, jeans, sweater and leather jacket, helped him to not cause any
attention although some stores with foreign press magazines and newspapers had
their displays covered with magazines bearing his face. But who would believe
that a man in a taxi in Greece is Bruce Wayne?
The ride was long but pleasant, the scenery beautiful and so different than
everything Bruce knew that he felt like he wasn’t himself but someone else,
simple and clean. The sun caressed the fields that surrounded the road.
Marathon was a town near Athens, that bordered with the sea and Bruce could see
the glistening blue of the Aegean Sea; he wanted to let his mind wander, fly
above that waters but he had a mission, as always in his life and he had to
focus on it.
The family was still living at the same address; a cute, small house with a
tended charming garden where the first flowers of the late winter had
blossomed: pansies, crowfoot and tulips in various colors. He rang the doorbell
and a kindly faced woman at his mother’s age opened, goggling at him, obviously
recognizing him from the news, since his surname surely was more than known to
them.
“Good morning, madam. I’m Bruce Wayne. May I…”
She searched the street with her eyes and Bruce understood that she was making
sure that no journalist had followed him. She gestured gently to him to come in
and showed him to the family’s living room where she showed him to the sofa and
left returning in a couple of minutes with a young woman who Bruce was sure
that was her daughter, the little girl which his father had operated and saved
after a very serious accident that almost cost her life.
The youth, Cassandra, spoke English and immediately welcomed him, while her
mother served him a home-made dessert that would have made Alfred jealous and a
glass of water, asking from her daughter to express to him her happiness that
he was alive and her gratitude to his late parents who saved her daughter’s
life and helped so much the people of Marathon.
Bruce just smiled without knowing what to tell to express his sentiment about
this honest relief for his ‘resurrection’ by people who didn’t know him.
“You’re very kind, madam; thank you for your interest…” he felt that his words
were too cold but the woman smiled to him motherly.
He brought out of his jacket’s pocket a dark blue square box and gave it to the
lady, opening it. The woman’s eyes widened upon seeing the Black Butterfly and
Bruce caught her casting a sideways glance to her daughter.
“It helped me to regain my freedom and bring to justice the man who murdered my
parents and… hurt me. Your present was a blessing for me and I want to express
my gratitude to you, but I think, as my mother believed when you gave that to
her, that this is too priceless for me to keep and thus it must return to your
hands.”
The woman listened to her daughter’s translation and shook her head in denial.
She said something and Bruce waited eagerly for the translation.
“No, young man. We gave it to your mother and after her death it belongs to
you. We won’t take it back.”
Bruce now was agitated; he couldn’t understand.
“It’s not just a charm; it’s the sacred symbol of Nemesis, it belongs to you
and your people. It’s your heritage. It’s too valuable for me to keep. Please,
if you don’t want it, it can be in a museum for everyone to admire.”
But both their eyes were inflamed with determination and strictness. The older
woman took his hand and laid the gem in his open palm, closing his fingers
around it; she smiled benevolently to him.
“It recognizes your hand…” her daughter translated and the older woman looked
him in the eyes; Bruce feeling as if he was being read like open book. The
older woman brushed his hair but he didn’t feel annoyed by this too intimate
gesture; it was like being caressed by his mother or anyway someone close to
it.
The woman whispered some words that her daughter didn’t translate and left the
room, telling her daughter to ask him to join them for lunch.
“Unfortunately, I can’t” he answered sincerely “my friend would be waiting for
me. But, please, take the stone; you are young, you understand its value and
that it must return to its rightful owners.”
“Nobody knows its value better than my mother and my late father; they learnt
to respect and cherish it since their childhood.”
“Then, why?”
She didn’t say anything, just gestured to him to follow and found himself in
her small Fiat, watching the buildings of the town from the window in the
passenger’s seat: small, white houses with neat, beautiful gardens so much
unlike Gotham’s, it was like the bricks were smiling at you, welcoming you,
while in Gotham even the walls emanated animosity. Bruce made a promise to try
to change that animosity.
The road the car followed lead them out of the town and towards the covered
with olive trees hill which from one side was overlooking the town and from the
other side the clear blue of the Aegean Sea.
Cassandra guided him to an open area where rocks, which obviously were marbles,
parts of the ruins of an ancient building, assembled to make a rough sketch of
the perimeter and the inner halls. Scattered around were parts of pillars.
Bruce looked around him mesmerized, he hadn’t seen anything like this. He
mocked himself: how was he supposed to see anything like this, when imprisoned
in Falcone’s cage? He inhaled deeply the sea breeze and let the relaxation fill
his lungs.
Cassandra smiled friendly.
“It feels like home, isn’t it?” he focused his eyes on her radiating face “Here
was the temple of Nemesis...”
“It’s very beautiful...” he felt like this bordered by marble area was cut from
the rest of the world and its fuss; the atmosphere was filled with tranquility
and awe, although the place was obviously abandoned to the elements. It was
like he wasn’t Bruce Wayne anymore but someone else, someone untouched by
anything, untroubled from the pain and the memories, truly free.
Cassandra looked him in the eyes.
“My parents after the generosity your parents showed to all of us kept watching
what was happening in Gotham; they were distraught when they learnt about your
murders and the city’s fall in corruption and crime. When I read in a small
article a reference about a strange creature with wings saving people from evil
men in Gotham, I felt excited because the city of these great people gained
some hope. And then we heard everything about how you trapped Falcone into
admitting his crimes and watched the events that followed; we knew that
Goddess’ sacred gem was at your possession... You are the one who fights
criminals and brings arrogant to justice. You are the Bat, aren’t you?” her
brown eyes flashed and Bruce felt that he shouldn’t lie to her.
“I am... But how did you figure out?”
The girl brought out of her jacket’s pocket a folded piece of paper and gave it
to him to read.

Nemesis, winged tilter of scales and lives,
Justice-spawned Goddess with steel-blue eyes!
Thou bridlest vain men who roil in vain 
Against Thy harsh adamantine rein.
Great hater of hubris and megalomania,
Obliterator of black resentment,
By Thy trackless, churning, wracking wheel
Man's glinting fortunes turn on earth.
Thou comest in oblivion's cloak to bend
The grandeur-deluded rebel neck,
With forearm measuring out lifetimes
With brow frowning into the heart of man
And the yoke raised sovereign in Thy hand. 
Hail in the highest, O justice-queen

Nemesis, winged tilter of scales and lives,
Immortal Judge! I sing Thy song,
Almighty Triumph on proud-spread wings,
Lieutenant of fairness, Requiter of wrongs.
Despise the lordly with all Thine art
And lay them low in the Nether-dark.(1)
Bruce felt his hairs raised; a cold air rose from the ruins not frightening him
but steeling his heart. Cassandra was beaming with her eyes closed, as she was
inhaling the air; feeling his eyes on her, turned to him her eyes privy.
“It’s an ancient hymn to Nemesis. Do you understand now why we insist on you
keeping the gem of the Goddess? Because you are the hand of Goddess, the one
bringing her judgement to the vain men and thus her symbol belongs to you” she
saw the drops of sweat in his brow with sympathy “your path was too harsh, you
suffered unspeakable things” Bruce averted his gaze “and your battle is still
on against the evil and to your own peace and happiness...”
She took his hand in hers and squeezed it, warmth and confidence flooding his
body.
“May the Goddess’ blessing show you the right path, accompany you and give you
redemption, Bruce!”
“Bruce, come over here!”
He jerked from his reverie and turned to his friend’s voice. Even from the
distance that separated them, he could discern that Tony was radiating
carelessness and charm; he had left the water and now he was among three light
dressed girls who happened to stroll at the beach.
He had left his surf board on the sand and was flirting with the giggling girls
who were admiring his well built form and his arc reactor. Tony was living and
breathing for and from that attention! And now he was calling him to
participate in the game and he had to go there, although he didn’t have any
mood but it was Tony and Tony craved to see him happy.
He reluctantly strode there recruiting his most relaxed smile a loan from both
Tony and Clark... Clark... He swallowed the thoughts because he felt his smile
faltering.
The beautiful girls who resembled professional models, perused his well covered
body in contradiction to Tony’s half naked and their eyes were so similar to
those of Falcone's gawping friends that he had to try hard to keep his dashing
smile.
“Joanna, Brenda, Cindy, this is my friend, Bruce Wayne’’ Tony introduced him
beaming.
Bruce so much trained in reading people’s expressions took in immediately the
shift in the girls’ demeanor the mention of his name brought: compassion, pity
and maybe... disgust. Even these young girls knew about him.
“You’re more handsome than in the magazines!” said one of them blushing.
Obviously, she didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable or sense that they
knew his back story and pitied him.
“With such beauty in Malibu I feel obliterated, Cindy...”
“He’s talking about me, ladies” Tony intervened with his cheerful way “the lad
is facing too much competition every day!”
“I wouldn’t even dream of competing with America’s sexiest man, Tony!” he
laughed and he was followed by the others.
His happy eyes focused on his friend’s jubilant ones as he was flirting and
teasing the girls. His friend was so different than him that sometimes he
wished he could be like Tony; life throbbing inside his veins, nothing able to
lower his spirits. Laughing and enjoying simple things while a few days prior
he was fighting...
The reason Tony had left hastily Gotham, leaving him asleep, was that one of
the minor companies that Tony had acquired from Falcone Enterprises had managed
to sell a huge load of weapons before the new owner stops every activity
related with weapons, to another shadowy company which resold them to a group
of Jihadists known for their atrocities.
So when Bruce arrived at Malibu, Tony came to the airport to welcome him but a
shadow covered his glistening eyes, despite his delight seeing him well rested
and having regained some of his color.
Tony had apologized for taking him immediately to the Stark Tower but they were
frantically searching the sold weapons to destroy them and the company that
resold them so to bring the owner to justice.
“Every minute that passes an innocent man, woman or child may be killed by
those guns... And Pepper is still searching alone – you see, we’re keeping
secrecy because it would harm both Stark Industries and Wayne Enterprises; and
I don’t want to leave her to do all the work...”
Bruce knew how important was to save innocent lives and Tony’s words reminded
him with guilt of his absence while Lucius was working for his company to stand
to its feet...
As soon as they entered the heavily secured skyscraper and found Pepper at
Tony’s vast office in the top level, Bruce rolled his sleeves and began doing
one of the things he knew best; searching even in places he wasn’t allowed. He
was helped by the fact that Ra’s had partnered with many of these groups so
Bruce knew where to look. He ruffled absent minded the logs that had fallen to
his eyes and called Tony and Pepper.
They leaned above his computer's screen and Bruce pointed with his index finger
in a zoomed image from Google Earth.
“Are these the weapons you’re looking for?”
Tony and Pepper exchanged an impressed gaze and Tony nodded.
“You are truly the world’s best hacker, huh?”
“I just happened to know where to look. Bad past companies...”
Tony instantly activated the Iron Man suit and his body was transformed to a
gold and red android.
“Want me with you?’’ he asked his friend hopefully but Tony denied.
“No, you don’t know anything about how the suit works and you’re still
recovering. Pepper, take him home; I’ll be there in no time! Jarvis, send
me...”
“I’ve already sent the co-ordinates to your system, Tony” he told him smiling
wickedly before finishing his order.
“How? There’s a firewall and... Never mind...” he waved his head resigned and
activated his helmet, vanishing entirely Tony Stark.
In a few seconds, Iron Man was airborne heading to the Middle East, as his
signal in the monitor showed. Of course, there was no chance he would go to
Tony’s house before his friend had ended his mission safe and sound. He zoomed
on the image of the Jihadists’ camp and with Pepper watched as Iron Man was
blowing up the structures where his helmet’s indicators showed weapons.
Tony was singing as he was launching his missiles, avoiding the Jihadists’
fires easily like a dancing bird. It was easy but Bruce couldn’t stop
scrutinizing the camp and the structures indicated as weapons’ storage. He
heard Tony arming to hit his next target.
“Tony, stop!” he told him calmly but demanding.
“Bruce, why are you not home? Don’t interfere! My indicators say that this is
the last weapon storage.”
“No, Tony, it’s not just that. They have weapons at the first compartment but
there is a second one where I detect human presence. Probably, they sell people
as slaves. If you blow the first compartment, you’ll kill them! Give me some
time.”
Tony cursed but halted in midair.
Bruce’s fingers flew over the keyboard, searching frantically databases and
comparing images from different satellites.
“There are women and children, Tony. Chained.”
“Fuck!”
Tony informed the UN forces in the area and watched till the scared, shivering
people were free and lead to the local Doctors without Borders premises to be
treated.
When Tony landed in his marvelous house, he found Bruce and Pepper waiting for
him. Tony was pale and a little shaken; he deactivated the suit and approached
Bruce his eyes solemn. He hugged him.
“Thank you. I’d have killed those people... How did you know?”
“Ra’s had a whole database for these groups which information I stole; most of
these groups trade humans to finance their ammunition. They keep them in
structures that seem like weapons' storages so to keep them hidden from the spy
planes or have them killed if an attack occurs; they know that the first
targets in an attack are the weapons’ stocks.”
Pepper smirked at Tony and winked to him.
“Tony, you should have Bruce explain how he hacked your system; it seems that
it isn’t so much unbreakable as you brag!”
And she left the living room her stilettos clicking at the granite tiles.
“Ouch! Now she would never let me forget it!” he huffed as he deactivated the
suit. “Listen, little guy, you must take sides: you either are with me or with
the beast, and no, me and the beast are not the same thing: the beast walks on
high heels and except for a couple of times when I was five, I don’t wear high
heels!”
He chuckled; Tony had a great way to make you laugh.
However, he doubted that his stay at Malibu was what Alfred had in mind when he
sent him for… vacations. His good friend didn’t accompanied him, although Tony
had invited him as well, because Harvey decided to use also his testimony – the
young attorney wanted to chain Falcone from everywhere. And after that Alfred
wanted to oversee the works in the Manor, so that the renovation would be
finished, when he returned. Alfred wanted anything reminding his… adventure
gone; he wanted him to forget everything and start anew. But he knew that
oblivion was a blessing he couldn't have, because the scars went too deep.
And since he had trusted that Gotham temporarily would be safe with the FBI
agents flooding her streets, he preferred as vacation to assist Iron Man to his
expeditions, than having Tony introducing him to his friends and acquaintances,
proud and happy that ‘Brucey’ was alive but making Bruce feel like being
exhibited, like he was before; but now the drooling stares were confused by
competing feelings of appreciation for his looks and pity for a poor, heavily
used thing…
Or than his friend trying to make him speak about what those people did to him.
He knew that his friend wanted to help him get rid of some load but, honestly,
it wasn’t enough what he had shared with him – and the whole world – in the
courtroom? Why he wanted to filth his pure genius mind with all this mud?
Didn’t he know that ignorance is bliss? Why Tony and everyone else didn’t want
to understand that if he opened the Pandora box, he’d be exposed and their
attitude towards him would change even more than already had?
Because Tony’s gaze had changed from that day in the damn courtroom. Maybe Tony
didn’t realize it but it did; his eyes when he looked at him were haunted not
the clean, honestly jubilant eyes of that night in his penthouse when Bruce
confessed that he was indeed his friend. And Bruce wanted to be the friend Tony
had eighteen years ago but Tony couldn’t forget the things he had heard for
him, even if he had them deeply buried in his brilliant mind. He couldn’t
forget that he had been Falcone’s cruelty’s victim but he could easily forget
that he was Batman, for pity’s sake! He insisted on forgetting that he wasn’t a
victim: he had regained his life… or what he could regain of it…
He wanted to be Bruce Wayne not Falcone’s object for torture and rape; why
everyone tried to make him slump again in his horrible cage? People’s
uneasiness in his presence was so obvious under their pretend nonchalant that
Bruce wanted to find a place to hide from all of them – a familiar place where
he’d be alone, a speck of nothingness, unfeeling, unthinking, non -
breathing... He still had his grave on the hill, smirking privy to him, teasing
him with the idea that maybe it would have been better if he had died along
with his parents or if he had stayed the pitiful toy of Falcone and the others
– at sometime they’d have gotten bored of him and would have killed him,
releasing him…
Chapter End Notes
     (1). It is a real ancient hymn to Goddess Nemesis written by
     Mesomedes of Crete,
     translated by A.Z. Foreman
***** Chapter 3 *****
It was night and the dark blue sky was everywhere; only sky and clouds and cold
air brushing his face. His face? He was one with the sky, floating, flying and
it was so beautiful, so lighthearted without nothing else except the cold wind
stroking his body. His impressed eyes were staring greedily the waves of
changing fluorescent colors of aurora borealis; he was at North Pole. So
magnificent, so beautiful, so magic!
He felt exhilarated like a little child seeing Santa Claus; he was a child in
the body of an adult. There was no memory in him; he was a tabula rasa, like a
newborn. A newborn bird learning to fly the amazing world…
Two warm, extremely soft and gentle lips touched his and he didn’t flinch.
“You’re not melting…” he heard a familiar, caring voice; his smile clear in his
tone.
He turned his head and his eyes met with two lovely, jubilant eyes and a
triumphant smile beaming kindness and he instantly was aware of two strong, hot
arms holding him afloat. And despite the warmth this body was sending to him
the cold sky prevented him from melting…
And he was flying as he had dreamt about it when he was a naïve kid and he was
so excited, so enthralled, so free; his heart was so light that felt like
leaving his body , but he didn’t care. He always wanted to fly even with
someone else’s wings… Someone else’s not his? It was impossible to be safe when
he depended from someone else...
With this thought, he was suddenly alone in the void… He felt himself falling
and falling through the clouds and the different color waves of aurora borealis
and the ground was coming to him rapidly. He didn’t have wings to spread and
was stupid of him to count on borrowed wings, to set his burden upon another
being; he shouldn’t have done this: it was his burden to bear… Not Clark’s… He
deserved to crush because he let Clark bear his burden…
However the pain he expected, the blow on his entire body didn’t come, instead
the earth seemed to open her arms and suck him inside and he was unable to
resist, because it felt as if he was returning where he belonged.
And then the pain erupted all over his body like a hot wave of lava. His back
was covered with lashes bleeding or half dried, his face was blood stained and
heavily swollen, one of his eyes was completely shut. His arms were bound above
his head, stretched to their limits and his impaired right arm was crucifying
him but whenever he tried to change a bit its position to soothe it from the
immobility’s painful numbness the loop around his throat tightened more,
clenching his already restricted air pipe.
A solid rock was behind him irritating his scourged back and everything around
him – a really tiny space – was stone and bats hanging from the ceiling. A
small iron door was keeping the upper world firmly out of his dark and cold
world.
And it was so cold… He was freezing and the pain was unbearable so much that he
couldn’t force the tears stay behind his eyes; and the hunger was piercing his
belly and his mind but it was the thirst that was worse, his mouth so dry that
it ached down to his throat. He was dizzy and scared; as scared as when Chill
caught him stealing food for Beth and the baby. But thankfully, Selina had
fled. And he was punished: hunger, thirst, pain and a choking leash around his
neck…He wished for the lost warmth of the borrowed wings.
He heard the rusty door’s cricking sound and jerked causing a flood of pain
running all over but the panic was worse than the pain. He raised his tearful
eye shyly; whoever was, his presence here meant more suffering for him. His
heart kicked his bonny torso. It was Chill, his crooked smile more evil than
usual, his eyes shining with satisfaction.
The giant stood before him and laughed making the bats scatter. He heaved
Bruce's head with his finger under his jaw, the rope sinking in his neck’s
skin. He closed his one eye.
“Ya stole from yar masters, ya scum, an' now ya gonna suffer. Yar hungry, eh?
Thirsty? In pain? Oh! These are nothing for filth like ya… ya deserve more…”
He heard Chill ruffling his jacket but didn’t open his eye. Not even when the
familiar coldness of metal touched his feverish cheek.
“Open yar eye, littl' prince…”
Obeyed and the point of the blade touched his eye. He was going to pull out his
eye!
“No, please, sir…” he cringed to avoid the blade but the stalactite stopped
him, Chill’s snigger more shuddering than the temperature.
The giant sobering traveled his stretched body with his knife’s blade and the
child looked him pleading desperately. No, no that too… But the man smiled and
leaving his cleaver on the floor used both his hands to lower the child's
ragged pants and underwear. Then opened his fly and Bruce could see his
erection and what was to come; he averted his gaze but the man grabbed the rope
of his leash and lowered his head so to see Chill’s groin, the rope choking
him.
“I want ya to watch my dick stuff yar hole!’’
And he was keeping him like this, as his length touched his small entrance and
pushed to force the small body to fit his member and then as he shoved into him
with one swift motion and he screamed and cried because it hurt so much that
obliterated every other pain; and he was watching his poor anus stretched and
stretched to swallow that monstrous thing and then bursting into little
scratches which became bigger as the man was thrusting into him violently. And
he was seeing his blood covering the pitiless punishing flesh and then the
stone.
“Please…” he whispered; at least, don’t make me watch…
Carried away by his pleasure, Chill let the rope and his head was yanked , the
powerful thrusts causing his screams and jerks even though the man was hugging
his small torso to give more force to his moves.
The cruel hands hoisted his battered T-shirt leaving his chest naked to the
cold and his mouth captured his erected from the cold nipple, licking it and
then biting without stopping the punishment of his anus. He took his cleaver
and brought the blade under the tiny nipple and Bruce writhed and whimpered as
the sharp point stabbed the flesh under the nipple, blood drops staining the
silver of the blade before the man’s tongue swept them, his teeth increasing
the gash’s depth and the blood flow for his mouth to suck. Suck with all his
might as if his blood was Chill's fuel to live…
Bruce opened his eyes with a gasp, drenched in sweat; his breath was caught in
his chest and he tried to force his throat to inhale as if he was suffering an
asthma attack. He closed his wet eyes and let the sound of the ocean waves fill
his mind and body, deliberately leaving the pain he was feeling in his rear end
and his right arm out of his awareness. He forced his breaths follow the same
sounds till his heartbeat was synchronized with the rhythm of the peaceful sea
under his room.
Simultaneously, Clark at his desk in the Daily Planet’sbuilding stopped his
typing hearing Bruce’s frantic heartbeat and rasps. He was ready to rush in the
bathroom to change into Superman and fly to Malibu, when the beloved melody of
the steady, strong heartbeat returned accompanied by a calm respiration. Bruce
had another nightmare, he sighed. Pressed his lips in a tight line and resumed
his typing on a boring article about the renovations in Metropolis’ parks and
the extravagances of the Mayor. His gut was clenched in sympathy and anger at
his inability to do anything to stop Bruce’s suffering.
Bruce coaxed his body to sit at the feathery mattress and stroked his right arm
which was still throbbing scared from the nightmare. He ruffled his hair,
realizing astonished that it was wet from sweat; the same sweat that covered
his face and whole body and for an instance made him believe that he was really
bleeding from his anus, staining the cotton sheets. His hand came to his
stinging nipple and searched for gashes; there was none. Of course, he closed
his eyes; don’t be ridiculous; it was just another nightmare replaying his
childhood.
He looked the time at his wrist watch on the nightstand: 5 o’clock in the
morning. If he was in Gotham, he’d have just returned to the Manor from patrol
and his mind would have been occupied with anything but Chill and his… He
rubbed his forehead. The adrenaline in his system would have been ebbing,
lulling him in a deep, dreamless sleep.
Anyway… He disentangled himself from the sheets and dropped to the floor
pouring his agitation and dread in a stampede of push-ups which he wouldn’t
have been able to count even if he wanted to. He hoped he hadn’t cried aloud
during the nightmare… Good thing he hacked Jarvis out of his bedroom otherwise
Tony would have stormed inside paler than himself asking him on the verge of a
heart attack if he was alright and what had he seen…
Poor Tony… Brucey’s ‘vacations’ became his burden.
He was accelerating the pace of the exercise, his frustration fueling him with
energy. Although he was fully aware that it was just a fucking – he smirked,
literally…- dream, the terror, the repulsion, the despair and the sickness in
his stomach lingered. Even his nipple felt as if Chill’s saliva was still
covering it and his anus was feeling like being still filled with foreign meat…
He groaned and with a jump stood. He surged to the huge bathroom that was
attached to his bedroom – Tony had given him the best bedroom of his house; he
threw his pajamas’ shirt on the floor. Inside the bathroom he took off the
pajamas’ pants and his underwear and stepped in the rectangular hydromassage
cabin, setting the water’s temperature to very hot.
He wanted to get rid of Chill’s filth and horrid smell despite the fact that he
knew that it was the dream’s effects that brought these things back to his
senses; sense memory is so much stronger than memory of facts. He let the six
body jets and the hot, rushing water rinse his hair and body, closing his eyes
and inhaling deeply; the rivers of water carrying away his sweat, his nightmare
and the lingering emotions. He wanted to be sanitized.
He stepped out feeling clean and relaxed, his mind focusing again on the
present. He stood in front of the large mirror above the sink and examined his
reflection; his face was even and unfazed without any trace of the momentary
turbulence.
He shaved the one day old facial hair, brushed his teeth and put on the white
fluffy bathrobe. He strode back to the bedroom, picking up from the floor his
discarded clothes. He opened the walk-in closet and chose plain jeans and a
black T-shirt.
Of course, there was no chance he would sleep again, after all he was never a
heavy sleeper and he had work to do. He sat behind the glass table in front of
the whole wall unframed window with the breathtaking view of the Pacific and
opened his laptop.
At first, he opened  Skype to communicate with Lucius who was already at his
office at Wayne Tower; a warm and demanding wave of nostalgia hit him as soon
as Lucius’ friendly smile wished him a good morning. His trustee briefed him
about the latest developments in the Enterprises, because Bruce was constantly
watching the shares’ course at the markets. At the end, he informed his friend
that he would be at Gotham in three days, despite Lucius’ insistence on
extending his vacations.
Bruce didn’t want Lucius to face alone Dagget's attacks and some other
shareholders because of the  new President's absence.
He looked again at his wrist watch. The special indicator he had installed in
his watch to alert him whenever the Bat signal was switched on remained dark.
If Jim had called for him, a yellow little light would have been throbbing on
his wrist. He put a tiny almost invisible wonder of Lucius’ genius under the
iron bat on the spotlight at the MCU’s rooftop that whenever would detect
warmth emanated by the activation of the light, would send through satellite a
signal to his watch. So he’d know if Gotham needed him wherever he happened to
be.
Gotham was safe at the moment but he wasn’t relieved. Surely, all these
mobsters who all these years were under Falcone’s command and servitude as soon
as the FBI left the city would start to fight each other to gain Falcone’s
throne in the underworld. And who would pay? Innocent people, their flaring
hopes after Falcone’s arrest fizzling out painfully once again, leaving their
place to hopelessness. And he wouldn’t permit those gangsters dunk his city and
its people in despair and darkness.
However now there was a more urgent matter: the company that had smuggled Wayne
Enterprises’ weapons to dangerous terrorists. Tony after the acquisition of
PART Ltd had at his disposal every code of access to the company’s trans-
sections but the particular activity wasn’t at the official archives so he had
to search in the private logs its managers held. And there the movements were
coded and protected with different passwords… That was what he called a nice
start for his day!
 
The white-gold morning light was flooding Tony’s enormous house gifting it with
a pleasant atmosphere as blue sky and sea were viewed from everywhere through
the large windows; it was like you were flying side by side with the seagulls
sharing their freedom and carelessness.
“Good morning, Master Wayne.”
Bruce for an instance turned to search for Alfred but smiled when remembered
where he was.
“Good morning, Jarvis. Where is the big boss?”
“Master Tony is at the kitchen, eating breakfast.”
“Thank you, Jarvis.”
As he was approaching the spacious kitchen he could make out Tony cursing at
the low mumble of the TV.
“Asshole! You mother fucker asshole! I should have found you not the police!
Fucking asshole!”
Bruce was curious to know who had enraged so much his usually cheerful friend,
especially when he, holding a pack of just printed papers, was in good spirits.
However, the TV set was swiftly switched off just as he got nearer and Bruce
suspected that Jarvis had been ordered to alert his master for his coming,
because after all he was trained as a ninja and his footsteps were soundless
when he wanted them to.
Upon entering the glistening room, Tony was drinking his coffee and singing,
Jarvis having just flooded the space with ‘That’s amore’ sang by Frank Sinatra.
He was the one who used to pretend but Tony was giving him a run for his money
right now, turning from the seriously pissed off Iron Man to the unconcerned
playboy.
“Good morning, Tony!” if Tony didn’t want to share, he should let him, besides
he knew how difficult was to be pressed to share things.
“Good morning, buddy! Your breakfast is served, come!” he patted the stool
beside him beaming.
Bruce sat and looked at the table.
“Ugh! Tony, if I eat everything you tell your people to make for me, I won’t
fit to my costume! And milk?! You know I’m not a fan!”
“You need the calcium: you may have huuuge muscles and Ra’s Al … - whatever -
fed you well but for years your needs in nutrients were seriously neglected.
Your bones’ density…”
Bruce raised his hands in surrender.
“Okay, okay, I’ll drink the bloody milk… It’s better when you sing, even if
you’re flat!” he drank the milk frowning.
“Hey! Hey! Now I’m insulted! Flat?! I know I’m not Pavarotti but flat!”
Bruce snorted and downed the orange juice.
“Frank Sinatra, Tony? I thought, by your dates' age that your tastes were
closer to Britney Spears or Justin Bieber…”
Tony pretended to be insulted but honestly he was delighted being teased by his
friend who seemed quite carefree today.
“Why? What’s wrong with Britney? When I introduced you, she was very sweat and
you said that she was very lovely!”
“Yeah, but her songs are for way younger ages, not exactly classic…”
Tony leaned his head skeptical.
“I’m not that old and you know? I love classics; and my dates despite their
young age are classics in looks…”
Bruce smiled and began eating a slice of cake. When the next song started, he
stared Tony wide-eyed; it was ‘Moon River’.
“Tony, you’re in love!” he exclaimed in mock-shock.
His friend almost drowned in his coffee. He waved his index finger in denial.
“I’m always in love, little guy… with life.”
Bruce winked.
“Funny… I thought her name was Pepper…”
Tony blushed and it was the most awkward thing Bruce had seen and he has seen
too many awkward things, but this was cute awkward.
“Matchmaker!” Tony snapped “She is too ‘good girl’... Don’t you dare make a
hint to the beast, because she can be scarier than Batman! I’m just in love
with life and I recommend you do the same…”
“Our relationship is at a …platonic stage…”
“Your relationship with life or… Superman?” he questioned his eyebrow raised.
Bruce’s hand which was holding the pancake stopped midair and his eyes
narrowed. Tony was fishing him for information; he didn’t know what had
happened the days between his departure from Gotham and Bruce’s arrival in
Malibu. Bruce took a small bite.
“Superman is an ally and I hope a friend.”
Tony rolled his eyes and jerked at the stool’s back.
“As if… Come on, Bruce! I was there when he brought you at the Manor after the
Al – something - incident: he was carrying you in his arms like you were the
most precious thing for him, something so delicate and fragile that he was
afraid you’d shatter at the first wrong movement.”
Bruce suddenly remembered the dream; how Superman was making him fly, how
tender and caring were his arms and how warm and relaxed he felt, as if this
gentle touch was erasing every bad memory and every tormenting emotion inside
him. And how these lips felt, so differently than everything he had
experienced… He refocused on Tony’s speech.
“… And I see how Extra Terrestial goggles at you and believe me” he raised his
eyebrows “this is not how a friend looks a friend…”
Bruce cast him a tired glance.
“He is Superman, Tony: he can have any man or woman he wants…”
Tony shrugged.
“Not you and certainly not me…”
Bruce rubbed his forehead where a faint scar from his recent adventures
smirked.
“Tony. He. Doesn’t. Want. Me. Take it out of your mind; he just wanted to
protect me: I was unconscious and bleeding, so he was extra careful for me to
not fall. What did you tell him?” he demanded.
Tony took a gulp of his espresso.
“I told him to back off, to hold his… super hormones because you’re not ready –
you see, he didn’t hide behind his finger; not that he could with that mass… He
admitted his feelings” Bruce closed his eyes “I warned him to not push you”
Tony said exasperated noticing his friend’s reaction “He did, didn’t he? The
scum!”
“No, he didn’t!” he snapped low and definite. “It was a misunderstanding, Tony,
and though I’m touched by your urge to protect me, it’d be better if you let me
handle such sensitive issues myself – you know, although I was almost my entire
life a slave, now I won’t permit anyone to push me.” he continued calmly “You
must understand, Tony, that a man like him can’t be” snorted “in love with me
and I can’t… can’t love anyone in that way…” the feeling of Chill’s brutal
hands crushing his waist, his greed mouth sucking painfully his nipple and the
hostile flesh inside him brought back the turbulence he felt during the
nightmare.
Tony lowered his head because his remark had lead things here, Bruce’s distress
more than obvious. He sought for something to break the silence and finally
noticed the pack of papers.
“What’s this?”
Bruce beamed at the question and Tony breathed in relief.
“I found the company that bought the weapons from PART Ltd and resold them to
the Jihadists.”
Tony rolled his eyes.
“You remember that you are in vacations, eh?”
He smiled.
“Of course, that’s why I had plenty of time for research.”
“You know that was my job…”
“You have a lot to do, Tony; you’re a scientist, an inventor. Your genius must
be free from boring things. And since I happen to be” he gestured with emphasis
to him “in vacations… PART Ltd didn’t do any official sale at the date the
weapons ‘vanished’ but checking the off shore accounts of its managers, I found
that one of them had a huge deposit in that date coming from another off shore
account. That account had acquired the said amount of money just a day before
by another off shore account which we know, courtesy of Ra’s Al Ghul’s
database, that is used by Jihadists groups for their trades.”
Tony motioned his head.
“When you found all these?”
Bruce stared at him puzzled; he was laying all this information on the table
and the only thing he had to ask was this?
“But… Today.”
“And I thought that you were just sleeping in…”
“I… I’m not used to much sleep…’’
“Why Jarvis didn’t alert me?”
Now Bruce felt irritated.
“I don’t want anyone’s eyes on me 24/7 even if it is an AI; and why you should
be privy to my sleeping habits?” he had in the tip of his tongue more things to
say but hold them not wanting to hurt him. “Now, you want to know to whom the
account belongs or not?”
“Go ahead…” gestured defeated.
“To someone Obadiah Stane who owns a couple of small and medium sized companies
with shady activities and even shadier logistics…”
Tony’s eyes narrowed.
“Wait, wait. Obadiah Stane you said?” Bruce nodded. “He was an associate of my
father, but he was so ambitious that he tried to gain control of some of our
companies. My father repelled him and revealed his not so legal endeavors,
diminishing him. He obviously is more capable and stubborn than my father
thought… Anyway, I’ll send him back to his hole now that you found evidence…
Well done, little guy!” he patted Bruce on the back.
But he didn’t share his thrill.
“I wouldn’t call it ‘evidence’. You see, we know that he took money from an off
shore account that belongs to Jihadists, but the government or the court
doesn’t know that; and I doubt that they would consider legit any information
coming from the League of Shadows. Not to mention that I would be forced to
uncover my past and the remaining of the League would know that I hold that
treasure of information, change everything and our asset will be lost.”
Tony nodded in deep thought.
“So we keep him under the radar, till he makes the wrong movement.”
It was Bruce’s turn to nod.
 “Jarvis, where’s Tony?” Pepper Potts’ sharp voice reached the kitchen from the
foyer and Tony shut his eyes.
In a couple of minutes the stiletto clicks were at the entrance of the kitchen
and Pepper’s impressive form, clad in a light blue business suit and white silk
shirt entered the room.
“Good morning, gentlemen!” she greeted.
“Good morning, Charlie…” Tony mimicked a girly voice from ‘Charlie’s Angels’
and Bruce smiled.
“Good morning, Pepper”
She sat beside them and served herself some coffee.
“It’s a beautiful day and Malibu’s streets are crowded. Ugh! The traffic is a
nightmare… I’m glad you two don’t watch TV or listen to radio…”
Tony sent her a sideways glance full of meaning and Bruce understood that it
was what his friend was watching when he was alerted to his presence.
“What?” the young woman asked puzzled.
“Tony wants to hide something from me, Pepper” Bruce smiled sympathetically.
“Okay, okay” Tony said in defense “I just didn’t want you to hear the bullshits
that bastard Falcone said to the court to save his skin…”
Bruce laughed lighthearted.
“Don’t worry, Tony, I’ve heard so many ‘bullshits’ from this man that nothing
impresses me anymore…”
Tony looked him disbelievingly and Bruce made a mental note to watch the video
later. Pepper coughed to get their attention.
“The shares of Stark Industries are rising and those of the Wayne Enterprises
are stable.”
The two men nodded.
“And the guests to your tomorrow party have all  answered positively.”
Another party? Bruce wasn’t thrilled by that prospect; he’d rather spend his
last nights in Malibu watching with Tony their favorite movies or having Tony
update him for the newest good movies. He sighed inwardly.
“Oh! And they would be in a stir from my surprise; I’ll wave the still waters.
The Press Conference is ready?”
“Sure. Reporters from every major news outlet and gossip rag will come. They
are intrigued about what your statement will be. Some of their guesses are
quite… fascinating. They surpass even you!”
Tony snorted.
“I love how they act when bated…”
“Press Conference for what?” Bruce asked.
“I’m going to reveal that I’m Iron Man!” he was beaming but Bruce’s eyes were
wide and his face pale. “What?” Tony frowned.
Bruce motioned his head and stood, Tony following him.
“Are you sure about this?”
“What do you mean?” Tony spat, feeling a wave of frustration from his friend’s
unreasonable reaction which cracked his good mood.
Bruce looked him in the eyes.
“You want to announce to the whole world that you’re a ‘super hero’, defending
innocent people and fighting bad guys?”
“Exactly!” Tony’s eyes were protruding from his confusion that rivaled his
annoyance.
Bruce sighed and raised his hand in the air.
“Every evil doer and aspiring ‘ruler of the planet’ will come after you and the
people you love! You’ll be in constant danger, those close to you as well… Even
Superman didn’t reveal his identity! You can handle this pressure? And how
about the government? Do you think that they would not react? You’ll be under
their constant surveillance and control!”
Tony was fuming. Bruce thought him an idiot? He thought that he didn’t consider
the consequences before deciding this? He believed that he knew the world
better than him? For pity’s sake, he wasn’t locked in a cage for eighteen
years!
“Things are not as dark as you see them” he said his voice low in a hostile
tone that made Pepper shudder.
“Tony, this is too risky” Bruce remarked calmly, feeling his friend’s annoyance
and trying to appease him.
“For you?”
He waved his head in disbelief.
“This isn’t about me, Tony…”
“I think it is!” Tony’s voice rose considerably “You try to talk me out of this
because revealing something is equal to a death penalty FOR YOU! You’re scared
to death to share anything with the others, even if these others are your
friends! You think that secrets are a haven, that you are important only if you
keep things from others, so to have them begging you for a hint of your
thoughts or emotions!” he stopped to catch his breath and took in Bruce’s
widened eyes.
“How do you stand yourself, whore?”Bane’s taunting accented voice mingled with
Tony’s angry one.
“Because your Batman dwells in the dark savoring innocent and bad people’s 
terror, like a common criminal, this doesn’t mean that my Iron Man is the same;
I want people to trust me, to know who’s behind the mask, one of them and be
sure that ‘their Tony’ would be always there. I want people to love me for what
I am, what I really am – I don’t need masks to live among people! But who am I
talking to? You keep your masks as a safety belt even with your friends! You’re
afraid for me because the only emotion you know and thrive in is fear! You’re
scared even to speak honestly and you try to make your fears mine!”
“My fears can’t become yours and I don’t want you to ever experience the fear I
felt” his voice now was low and hoarse. “That’s the reason I try to warn you
about the ramifications your revelations will have…”
Tony brought his hand on his hipbones and lowered his head, his eyes were half
closed. He didn’t like being told that he was wrong.
“You’re insisting…”
“Only because I care about you and your loved ones.”
Tony laughed dryly.
“The formidable Batman who knows everything and guides us the stupid!”
Bruce sighed.
“I didn’t say that…”
“You care about my loved ones and you worry about their safety. You mean
yourself: you’re afraid that my exposure as Iron Man would connect you with
Batman – no chance! Nobody will think that a victim can be Batman! Because you
are a victim; even when you wear your black costume and your mask, you’re still
a victim…”
“Ya don’t even dare to look  me with yar true eyes, ya coward prick– sucking
brat! Because yar eyes are terrified; ya use these lenses to hide yar scared
baby eyes, because yar still scared shitless by me!”Chill sneered.
 “…and that is what makes you being so afraid for me being exposed as Iron Man!
You’re thinking as a victim through and through, like the weak abused child…
Always mortified that you’ll be punished by your masters if discovered! You
can’t stop being a victim whichever mask you wear! Only victims hide in the
shadows! At least normal people who suffered ask for help but you don’t do even
that to be normal again!”
“Enough!” Bruce’s eyes were steely, unreadable; steady without emotion. It was
like a mask had covered his face. His lips were pressed in a stern line and his
voice had lost any trace of softness. “You can do whatever you want, you and
the other normal; my fears and victim paranoia have no place in your
normality.”
He just turned; his fists clenched and left the kitchen heading to his bedroom.
Pepper jumped from her stool; she stormed at Tony.
“Tony, what you did? Go after him or you will be regretting it for the rest of
your life!”
But he moved his head in denial; his black eyes weren’t sparkling.
“No way!” he snapped. “I have a Press Conference to attend…”
He rushed out of the kitchen and the house.
“Idiot!’’ Pepper clenched her fist.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“The boy is completely nuts. Saying that I abused him? For Christ’s sake! I had
every gorgeous woman at my feet! I’m not a pervert to rape a kid.”
“You were showing him off as your slave and there are many witnesses that heard
you describing what you were doing to him.”
“He was of age then, right? He consented… He actually begged me for it!”
“You killed his parents in front of him” Harvey commented disgusted “and you
want us to believe that he ‘begged’ for you to engage with him in a sexual
relationship?”
Falcone laughed.
“I only caused Thomas Wayne’s death but his and his wife’s deaths were
accidents. That kid is hallucinating!”
“You kidnapped their son, you blackmailed them to give you their entire fortune
and you dragged them in the alley behind the Opera House to murder them. Your
accomplice, Mr. Earl testifies that. And Mr. Pennyworth, too. Furthermore, you
kept the bloodstained wallet of Thomas Wayne and the pearl necklace of Martha
Wayne as trophies of ‘an accident’? As you kept their little son captive for
eighteen years, torturing him endlessly without mercy, as a means to relive
your feat. You admitted it yourself and the whole country witnessed it”
Harvey’s voice was like steel.
“I was tricked to do it; I was in distress – the boy provoked me” he answered
in exasperation.
“As he ‘provoked’ you in a sexual relationship?”
“Yeah! I saved his life from that scum Chill…”
“Whom however you kept as your right hand man till the end and had him
manhandling Mr. Wayne” the young attorney’s tone was absolutely ironic and
definite.
“Your Honor, he interrupts the witness!” Falcone’s lawyer burst.
“Counselor” the judge said to Harvey “let the witness finish.”
Falcone smiled satisfied.
“I saved his life and from then he was so grateful that he felt me like his
father. But the kid was odd from early on, he tried to make me touch him in
inappropriate ways…”
“Maybe he raped you?” Harvey spat and taking in the judge’s stern look “I’m
sorry, Your Honor, but the witness mocks the court.”
“I don’t know, maybe he was doing that with his father…”
Bruce stopped putting his clothes in the suitcase to look with stony eyes at
the laptop’s screen where Falcone was playing innocent in the Justice Hall of
Metropolis among the turbulence and the outrage his words caused to the people
watching the trial.
“Your Honor…” Harvey pierced the stoic until now judge and he raised his hand.
“Silence!” the judge ordered stentorian the people . “Mr. Falcone, I won’t
tolerate such insinuations: you’re on this stand to defend yourself not to
defame others – continue solemnly.”
The mobster coughed.
“I didn’t touch him till he came of age. I raised him like my son but… Hell! He
is gorgeous! I don’t know anyone that could resist to this man’s advances…” his
voice was filled with nostalgia and regret.
“You raised him as your son and you had him doing your cabaret’s chores from
the dawn till the midnight with one hand? Your former thugs and employees
testified that…”
“They’d say anything to save their asses…”
“You had the child starved, with his injured hand left to rot and disable so to
be in constant pain. You had him living in a dungeon in freezing cold, without
even a mattress or a blanket. He was constantly molested by your thugs. And
used by you to satisfy every sick thought you had – your former employees
testified that the agonizing screams of pain and the desperate pleads of the
young Bruce Wayne for you to stop echoed through Dolcetto, as your sneers and
taunts to the child. Countless times they saw the child bleeding from his anus
and you have the nerve to claim that you ‘raised him as your son’, that the boy
‘provoked’ you and ‘you didn’t touch him till he came of age’? Mr. Falcone, you
disgust me!”
“Objection!” cried Falcone’s lawyer but the judge stopped him.
“Mr. Dent, believe me I understand; however there are rules…”
“Excuse me, Your Honor, but pedophiles are especially hideous, more so when
they try to persuade us that they were the victims.” Harvey took a deep inhale
and turned to the mobster “The physical examination on Mr. Wayne’s body
revealed brutal signs of your ‘fatherly’ treatment: marks of bounds in his
wrists, bruises and edemas in his hips and inner thighs, bite marks, even
trails of merciless spanking.”
The former Emperor of Gotham nodded his head and smirked.
“That boy liked it really rough!”
“Also, the coroner’s report certifies the testimonies that Mr. Wayne was left
to starve and was subject to physical and sexual abuse throughout his
childhood; his right arm’s bones bear signs of years of neglect of any
treatment and the tests’ results prove that he was bereft of any proper
nutrition. And I’d recommend you restrain your characterizations about Mr.
Wayne’s sanity, because Mr. Wayne is an extremely brave young man who impressed
the doctors who assessed his mental state after your defender’s demand…”
Bruce stared at Harvey’s firm face, the young man’s black eyes were enflamed;
he was really formidable when justice was at stake – Gotham would be benefited
from him as DA. He looked totally enraged with Falcone’s ridiculous assertions,
unlike him. The only thing that had an impact on him was the mobster
insinuating that his father could have been molesting him - that was
despicable. Okay, he could call him nuts, he could claim that he provoked him,
but spilling mud on his late father was truly deplorable.
But otherwise he found himself untouched from his words. He was numb. A huge
void where his emotions should be. Anger, hatred, disgust, maybe shame or pain.
As a normal person would have felt – normal, as Tony had said.
He took the half Black Butterfly from the mattress and caressed its one wing.
Its other half was somewhere else. An earthquake had parted them and now, even
though both of them were recovered, they won’t be ever again a unity. Like he
and Tony.
Folded the glowing gem in the special pouch, the material of which would keep
the gem undetected by the airport's scans and buried it under the clothes.
From the moment he stormed away from the kitchen and Tony, he felt as if the
whole world was a place without meaning. It was as if his insides had dried,
drained even more than before. Tony thought him paranoid, nuts, as Falcone had
said. But he was not! And he wasn’t a coward either. He might dwell in the
shadows but that wasn’t from fear, was… Was because light didn’t suit him,
because he was dark inside… Tony couldn’t understand that nor Clark, nor anyone
normal – anyone that hadn’t lived his entire life in a cage with bats as his
only company.
He moved slowly his head. It was better that things came to that. Tony deserved
to be with people like himself, cheerful, carefree, happy; it was too good to
believe that they could be the best friends they were eighteen years ago when
he was normal. Now, he only wanted to return to Gotham to delve into Wayne
Enterprises and Batman and forget the incident. Press, of course, would chase
him again after Falcone’s statements, asking more ridiculous things and he
would have to tolerate them, being satisfied that they would never suspect that
a victim, a subject to all this abuse can’t be someone powerful as Batman.
Now would have only Alfred to connect him with everything that he had lost,
with his childhood, with his innocense, with the light that had been put down.
He shrugged. It was futile anyway.
His mind brutally recounted the moments in the Manor when Ra’s’ poison was
killing him and Tony exerted himself to save him and Tony’s tormented face when
he was dead for a couple of seconds before the antidote worked.
He closed his eyes. His friend believed all these things about him. He threw
the blouse he was folding in the opened suitcase. He would release Tony from
his burden; besides, all these days he understood that his friend was
asphyxiating with him around, he was an anomaly to his sunshine world.
However he couldn’t ignore the low throbbing pang in his gut. He’ll miss Tony,
his humor, his playfulness, his grimaces, his ‘quarrels’ with Pepper… In these
moments, he felt almost as if he was again the eight year old Bruce and that
everything was easy.
He heard the familiar sound of Pepper’s heels approaching the door.
“Stop” he ordered the laptop and the video instantly froze. “Close’’, the video
vanished from the screen.
Pepper knocked gently the door.
“Come in”.
The redhead entered carefully his bedroom, as if she was the one who had the
dispute with. He acknowledged her and nodded, continuing packaging.
“You are leaving?” she inquired shocked.
Bruce looked at her calmly but resolutely.
“I think it is the best I can do; it was a mistake.”
She forgot her hesitation and rushed to him.
“What was a mistake?”
He inhaled and shrugged.
“Believing that all these years didn’t change anything. I’m not the little kid
Tony loved so much; that kid died leaving me in his place and poor Tony now
realizes it and it’s really painful for him.”
Pepper’s stern eyes shone angrily.
“Stop this, Bruce! Stop protecting everyone and belittling yourself. I admire
you and I’d have admired you the same even if I didn’t know that you’re Batman,
but that doesn’t mean that you must take the blame for everyone in this damn
world! Of course, you changed and Tony grieves for what you’ve been through but
that doesn’t mean that you’re not Tony’s beloved little kid-friend, nor excuse
his awful behavior.” She lowered her voice “You know Tony. Tony is like a
child; good heart but pigheaded. I’m sure he already regretted what he said.”
Bruce shook his head.
“It is better I leave now. I should let Tony enjoy his party.” He turned to
Pepper “Staying? For what? I don’t fit to all these, Pepper. I ruin the vibe.”
Pepper pierced him with her eyes.
“He loves you, Bruce. I know you’re hurt from what he said and you’re right: he
acted as an asshole! But if you leave now, if he returns and didn’t find you…”
she rubbed her forehead “You don’t know how Tony was all these years that he
believed you dead” she sighed “I knew him from when he was at MIT; he was
aggressive, picking fights and pleasures all the time, he was a heavy drinker –
he had no meaning in his life: only passing his exams and indulging in
bullshits – wasting his life. When his parents died and he took the control of
the Industries, revenge became the meaning of his existence; the only reason
that kept him sober. The rest of his life was drinking, partying and fucking;
he hid his suffering by displaying his carelessness and indifference. But I can
tell you how he cried in his drank sleep mumbling your name. He now eats a full
breakfast while then his breakfast was half a bottle of whiskey, drinks coffee
when the entire day a bottle of alcohol was in his hand.”
Bruce closed his eyes.
“And then, those terrorists abducted him and with his return, his determination
to punish Falcone became more pressing; he didn’t want to die, leaving your
murder unpunished. The rumor that Falcone had you in his possession created a
fire in him. He dropped drinking and he devoted his intelligence and energy
into finding a way to confirm that you were indeed his friend and to free you;
he even created Ironman, a project he left half after his escape from that hell
in Afghanistan. And when you admitted that you are indeed his friend, he was
shining: it was as if his life began again. He pains immensely hearing the
things you suffered and blames himself for not finding you in time and sparing
you from all these…”
She smiled.
“I’m not trying to defend his behavior; it was an outrage and I’m sure he has
already realized it. You must make him pay for this; slap him, punch him, kick
him in the balls but not leave him, Bruce. I know it is too much to ask, you
have so many things in your head but you’re more mature; your friendship is too
precious to be ruined by Tony’s idiocy. Please, Bruce, I know that you love him
too…”
She delved into her jacket’s pocket and brought out a small Polaroid picture
which offered to him. Bruce took it gently.
It was Tony and himself eighteen years ago, the last photograph they had
together, the last Christmas they spent at the Manor. They were laughing in
front of the huge Christmas tree at the grand salon. They were beaming at
Martha who took the picture; he was still like a cartoon and Tony was a
teenager, his smile wicked as he was making bunny ears to his head with his
fingers. A couple of days later everything was destroyed but he hurried to
erase the thought.
Bruce smiled tenderly and caressed the picture. Their friendship, his
childhood, his innocence, his lost laughter, everything was in Tony’s lively
eyes. He felt tears besiege his eyes.
“He carries that picture with him everywhere and he was carrying it all these
eighteen years that believed you dead. When he realizes that the picture is
missing, he’ll freak out…”
“You love him very much, Pepper; he is so lucky having you watching him…” his
voice was deep.
“Now he has you, too. You’ll stay?” hope was shining in her eyes.
Bruce gave her the picture and cupped her hand.
“Put it back before he finds out that he lost it; I’ll stay.’’
She nodded.
“Thank you, Bruce.”
“No, Pepper: Tony and I should thank you…”
The young woman blushed and touched her forehead.
“I must go to the damn Press Conference, Bruce. I’m sorry I’m leaving you
alone.”
“No, go…”
As he was watching Pepper leaving the bedroom, his mind traveled with love to
Selina. How he missed her… She was the only person that knew him throughout
these ‘lost’ years, really knew him. Everything was so easy with her, as was
with Tony before… before a lifetime.
He closed the suitcase but left it ready. He was to leave for Gotham in two
days either way and if Tony, despite what Pepper said, kept behaving to him
like that, he’d leave sooner. He had his pride, too, and especially now, he
would defend it.
But first he had somewhere to go.
 
“I’m Iron Man!’’ exclaimed with open hands in a gesture of absolute easiness as
if he was admitting that he is damn sexy.
As many times as Tony watched himself at this video, his lips were always in a
tight line. He seemed too fake in the video, something wasn’t right. He ruffled
his raven hair and sipped his coffee.
He was sat at his workshop – his favorite place -, dressed in blue sweatpants
and a plain T-shirt with his favorite Garfield. A pencil was caught behind his
ear, ready to scribble any inspiration that would flash in his mind.
But the only thing he was able to do was watching and re-watching the Press
Conference, a tense Pepper behind his back like a bodyguard: only she was eager
to punch him instead of protect him.
“Show us!” a smart ass reporter called.
And before their impressed eyes he activated his suit and transformed himself
into an android. Awed exclamations filled the Press Room of Stark Industries
and the flashes of the cameras shot synchronized, like automatic rifles.
He saw Pepper rolling her eyes and sighing.
After the ‘photo call’, he deactivated the suit and became again Tony Stark,
the beaming playboy billionaire.
“The destruction of the weaponry of the Jihadists group in Kurdistan, a couple
of days ago, was your doing then?” Lois Lane asked; she was perhaps the only
unimpressed person in the room. After all, she was the personal reporter of the
absolute superhero…
“Yeah, and I’m happy so many women and children were liberated from those
monsters” he didn’t mention Bruce’s part because he was sure that he wouldn’t
want it.
“I suppose then that you know from who the Jihadists bought their ammunition?”
He smiled charmingly to her direction.
“No, Miss Lane, unfortunately, I didn’t manage to find that but I will!”
“The technology behind Ironman is connected with your Arc Reactor?” a local
reporter inquired.
“My friend Paul, you know that I can’t reveal any technological detail
concerning my suit” his smile this time was crooked.
“What about the government? The army? Such power in the hands of a citizen
could be considered dangerous…”
Tony immediately sobered.
“I’m here to help them whenever they need me: that was the reason I revealed
myself, to reassure the government and the citizens that Ironman isn’t a menace
and will always assist and protect them.”
“Yeah, sure…” laughed another smartass.“Everyone says that…”
“You are friends with Mr. Wayne” Lois Lane’s voice beat the others “so, I
presume that it was you, Ironman, the mysterious superhero that contributed to
Falcone’s arrest and the rescue of Bruce Wayne.”
Hearing so many times Bruce’s name even now brought to Tony a very unpleasant
feeling, as if he had exposed his friend.
“It was my duty to assist to the city’s salvation.”
“And of poor, weak little Prince…” a known asshole of a gossip rag sneered.
“As the entire nation and the planet saw, Bruce did more than enough to save
himself…”
“Tony, tell us about Batman! Who is he?”
“I never met him.”
“Shut it!” he ordered the AI and the huge flat wall screen blackened.
He leaned on the workshop bench and sank his head in his palms. He ruffled his
hair. Bruce had right? No, he couldn't have done a serious mistake. Revealing
himself as a superhero will serve as an obstacle to the aspiring villains, a
considerable drawback. Besides, who would dare to lay even a finger to someone
close to a powerful superhero? Maybe this will protect them from anyone wanting
to hurt them.
Where was Bruce?
He had been terrified on the prospect of returning home and didn’t find him
here, already aboard a plane to Gotham – after what he told the morning, he’d
be right. But the little guy gave him a second chance; Jarvis told him that
Bruce left without a suitcase, having called a cab to take him to the center of
Malibu. Why a cab? He could ask Jarvis to notify one of the Stark Industries’
drivers to drive him wherever he wanted.
Of course. Bruce had his pride and his dignity, although he – his best friend –
had ragged it…
He moved his head disbelievingly.
“For a genius, Tony Stark, you’re a complete moron! He was just trying to warn
you, to protect you…”
He let his fingers rub his face. Pepper during the press conference and the few
minutes she stayed afterwards was glaring at him without speaking – and she was
also right. Asshole! You spoke to him as his tormentors surely were taunting
him all these years – you heard that bastard Chill jeering him exactly like you
did…
And he… A couple of minutes after he returned home, the financial director of
the Maria Stark Foundation called to tell him that Bruce had donated a million
dollars to the foundation. He asked from the director to not divulge his
identity to Tony but the director thought that he should be informed about
this.
And then Jarvis alerted him that a gossip show at TV broadcasted that had
spotted Bruce Wayne in front of the Malibu’s Cathedral Cemetery where the
Starks were buried; he was carrying flowers…
He growled at himself. Stupid, idiot, asshole!
And now? Where was Bruce now? He was Batman, a trained ninja and assassin,
someone who triumphed over his mentor; he could easily pass undetected and
after realizing that someone recognized him at the cemetery, certainly ‘became
invisible’. He shouldn’t be worried; Bruce could defend himself. But he was
worried. He stood to go to the city and search for him.
“Master Tony, Mr. Wayne has arrived.” Jarvis’ artificial voice stopped him in
his tracks.
“Thank you, Jarvis.”
He jumped on the lift and hurried to the spacious living room. Bruce was just
entering.
“Tony” Bruce nodded to him slightly; his eyes were determined, steady but
somewhat hesitantly.
This hesitation hurt Tony. He rushed to him and hugged him without further
words – words only made matters worse. He tightened his hold as if he was
scared that this last month would be proved to be a wonderful dream and he
would wake up and Bruce would be dead.
Bruce at first felt tense; he was unused to such manifestations of love, he
wasn’t used to be loved. But then, Tony’s hug became his reality and the older
man was again Tony; his big friend who always chased his fears, who was his
solace in his cage. He closed his eyes and rubbed his friend’s back.
“It’s okay, Tony; I’m here.”
Tony raised his sparkling eyes to Bruce’s face.
“I’m sorry, Bruce; I was an asshole. I don’t believe anything from the
bullshits I said.” He pointed to his face “Punch me, as hard as you can; you
may destroy my astonishingly beautiful face and the babes would be distraught
in tomorrow’s party, but I deserve it. Come on!”
Bruce snorted.
“Nah… I don’t want to be hated by your female fans – they would say that I did
it from envy…”
Tony licked his lips thoughtful.
“If you want, I’ll cancel it; I feel that I’m forcing you into things…”
“No, I should get used to what normal people do.”
“Ouch!” Tony didn’t miss the use of the word. “Will you ever forgive me?”
Bruce put his hands on Tony’s shoulders and smiled.
“There’s nothing to forgive, Tony; I understand…”
“I was afraid that you’d have left for Gotham…”
Bruce ruffled his brown hair.
“I was ready to, believing that this will be better for you and me…, but you
have a very strong defender who reminded me who Tony is and that I don’t want
to lose him… I have lost so much already…”
“Don’t take it on you! Pepper knew how much would have cost me if I had lost
you again…” he scratched his head “I must make her an expensive gift: my body
perhaps…”
Bruce’s laughter was completely spontaneous.
“Those stilettos look really painful…”
“Point taken…” he winked. “Now, there’s something I want to show you – come to
the workshop…”
It wasn’t the first time Bruce was in Tony’s enormous, impressive workshop with
the various Ironman suits and the awkward gadgets that nobody had ever seen
again. Various tools, electronic boards with endless notes and equations, and
others constantly updating data from ongoing projects, vials with multicolored
liquids. The laboratory of a scientist and the workshop of an inventor. Bruce
felt overwhelmed, he knew that Tony was admitted to MIT at the age of 15 but
now his entire genius was laid before him.
“What?” Tony asked puzzled.
“Nothing. I’m impressed, that’s all…”
“It’s my workshop, my haven all these years” Tony shrugged. “Every time I came
down here, I was imagining how it would be if we had been together at the
university and then working here…”
Bruce shook his head in denial, smiling.
“Tony, that was a child’s dream: there was no chance I could have caught you in
university even if I was admitted – which I doubt.”
Now, Tony sobered; his eyes darker than their black color.
“We don’t know that: if that bastard didn’t have taken you as his slave, you
could..!” he lowered his head “Look what have you achieved with no formal
education! You handle computers better than almost every computer scientist I
know – your mental abilities are incredible. And I think this is the right time
you pursuit your dream to become a doctor…”
His friend laughed lighthearted but Tony could detect the bitterness.
“It’s too late, Tony. I haven’t even finished the first level of my school – I
would have the year that my parents were murdered…” he smiled “What University
would take someone like me? Besides, I don’t have the time: there are Wayne
Enterprises and… Batman. Maybe in another life…”
Tony tightened his hands’ hold on his hipbones; he wished he could change
everything but even he was unable to do that.
Bruce took in his distress and patted him on the back.
“It’s no use crying over spilt milk, right? Besides our wishes change as time
passes…” smiled “Where’s my surprise?”
“There…”
They had come to a part of the workshop Bruce had never seen again. There was a
huge object covered with a white fabric that looked like a car. Tony went there
with big, enthusiastic strides and uncovered with a swift, impatient move the
object.
“Wow!” Bruce goggled and his mouth stayed agape. He walked awestruck to the
beaming Tony.
“I guess you like it…”
Like it? He was kidding. It was the most beautiful vehicle he ever laid eyes
on. Sleek, glistening black with aerodynamic shape, smooth and sharp curves in
a harmonic combination, a cockpit reminding a racing car and headlights staring
menacingly so much alike Batman’s glare. Dashing and dangerous at the same
time. He brushed the surface carefully and lovingly.(1)
“Yours!” Tony smiled.
Bruce who was mesmerized exploring the car’s surface stopped abruptly and
looked at his friend.
“No, Tony! It’s too much…I can’t take it.”
“Yes, you can; I made it for you, I was inspired by you. If you don’t accept
it, it’ll mean that you didn’t forgive me.”
Bruce rolled his eyes.
“You always gift hand made cars to everyone that you had a spar with?”
“No. There’s only one that matters… And I manufactured it before our spar. Take
it… Please?” he raised a brow and pouted.
“Oh! I feel like I’m taking advantage of your friendship…”
“Yeah, sure… You’ll find her in Gotham when you arrive. Your car; one of a
kind: I wouldn’t accept anything less for my buddy.”
“Thank you, Tony…”
“Oh! Those puppy eyes! Don’t you want to take a look inside?”
He hurried to the driver’s side and opened impatiently the door, hopping
inside.
Tony watched his friend brushing the leather covering the car’s cockpit and the
driving panel; there weren’t buttons but many indicators in the screen to
discover their use and his eyes were glistening with avid interest. He rubbed
his long, lean hands on the wheel, smiling and it was the most beautiful smile
Tony had ever seen: it made his friend look like a child, the deep melancholy
kicked out of his puppy eyes. As a child he hadn’t any gifts, thought, only
pain and humiliation.
He closed his eyes. No, he mustn’t think like that: if he kept thinking like
that, how was he supposed to help Bruce forget? He let the view of the
exhilarated young man absorb him and smiling broadly, went to the driver’s
side.
“You know how to drive?”
“Lucius taught me but I don’t have a license yet.”
Tony shrugged.
“It seems like I gave you the ultimate motive to get that license. Of course,
we are in a private area and you can try this babe – nobody is going to arrest
you…” winked and Bruce gave him an even brighter smile, hurrying to fasten his
seatbelt.
Tony ordered the AI to open the hidden door.
“Follow the yellow strip and you’ll find the surface. Don’t worry about fuel:
the car works with the arc reactor technology.” Bruce gawped at him. “I’m a
genius, baby! Now, step on it!”
And he did. Tony saw only for a few seconds his baby carrying his other baby
before the 2,000 ponies of the car accelerated roaring, erecting his hair in
their wake.
“Wow!” Tony exclaimed.
It was like flying, not driving; as if he was riding the wind, a mighty tornado
with the difference that inside he didn’t feel any rush. He could see the
beautiful, green scenery of Tony’s property running in his windshield, the
wheel one with his palm, the accelerator calling his foot to step it. Oh! And
these steep turns twirling the hill upon which was Tony’s house were so
fascinating, the car taking them at full speed as if they were even road, the
black sea like a carpet offering a spectacular view.
Tony from the workshop watched the car’s frantic course sighing.
“Good thing I put extra safety measures because little guy tops even me in
crazy driving.”
Send a thoughtful glance to the little box on the bench – it was this, as well.
He took it and weighted it in his hand.
When Bruce after twenty minutes stopped the car in front of Tony, his face was
flushed and radiating.
“It’s awesome, Tony!”
“Yeah, but you need to drive more carefully, little guy, because I’ll tell them
to not give you that license.”
“Look who’s talking! Besides, I’m sure you installed an absolutely miraculous
safety system; what is it? Airbags?”
Tony chuckled.
“Airbags are dangerous and too mundane. In the case of an impact, the car’s
inner sensors get activated and a protective net of microfibers drenched in
titanium blankets the driver and the passengers, keeping them away from the
harsh surfaces and deflecting any debris, although it is made with a special
alloy almost indestructible; it’s similar to the Ironman’s suit with the
difference that the activation is automatic.”
Bruce smiled a little shy.
“You plan on keeping me alive forever?”
Tony sobered and brought his sparkling black eyes on his friend’s jubilant.
“I lost you once; I won’t permit it a second time.”
The younger man pressed his lips and Tony patted his still flushed cheek.
“Speaking of which… I have something else to give you.”
But Bruce was overloaded.
“Tony…”
Tony took the box from the table and offered it to his friend who recognizing
it glowered at it and didn’t take it.
“Take it, Bruce.”
“Kryptonite, Tony?”
The older man nodded; he had taken it from the Manor after he shot Al Ghul, it
was the stone the man used against Superman.
“I don’t like a super powered alien drooling over you and you not having
something to defend yourself.”
Not again! Bruce sighed and brought his hands on his waist.
“Tony, he…”
“Bruce, you have suffered enough from people wanting to use you for their
pleasure; and I know that he has his eyes on you despite what you’re saying.
You can’t risk with a man with such powers!”
He pressed his hair uncomfortable.
“I trust him, Tony” he sighed “he’ll never hurt me…”
Tony shook his head disbelievingly. How could Bruce after everything he
suffered be so naïve to trust a man lusting him.
“Yeah, yeah, sure…” his voice was sarcastic. “Take it as a precaution just in
case he misbehaves.”
“No, I won’t take it. I… I trust Clark and even if he makes a move, I can
handle him: I did it in the past.” Tony’s head jerked in frustration and he
mumbled a curse; he took his friend’s hand and squeezed it. “Clark isn’t a
danger for me…”
“If he… if he hurts you… in any way, I will be the one who’ll use the
kryptonite and believe me: he’ll curse the day he landed on earth!”
“And if he doesn’t? These sick people used me not because they were impressed
by my looks, they only did it to humiliate me, to make me suffer and punish me…
Because of my name… So I’m not that good looking to make people crazy to use
me…” he laughed embarrassed. “Clark was simply touched by my… story; he
doesn’t… Besides I’m more than capable to defend myself and you know it despite
your – I admit - adorable protectiveness.”
Tony snorted.
“You’re kidding me, right? Don’t tell me you didn’t notice the stares you get
wherever you go… If I wasn’t Tony Stark, I’d be jealous! Don’t laugh –
seriously!” he lowered his eyes ashamed “Even I was on the verge of…”
Bruce understood what he meant.
“You were just angry and emotionally tired and I tormented you; it wasn’t your
fault, don’t think about it, okay?”
“Take the Kryptonite, Bruce; only then I could sleep reassured the night…”
But he was absolute.
“No, Tony. Thank you, but I won’t. Clark was very kind to me; besides he may be
Superman but I’m Batman…”
Chapter End Notes
     (1). The car that inspired me for Tony's gift to Bruce is here:
     http://www.topspeed.com/cars/others/2016-trion-nemesis-ar162936.html
     I described it poorly, I know...
***** Chapter 5 *****
Lois Lane was granted the honorific invitation that gave her the liberty to
roam among the rich and famous people of Malibu which were enjoying themselves
at Tony Stark’s party, permitting the avid reporter hear and capture things
with her smart phone. It was the first time she was in one of Stark’s parties
and she knew that between a superhero, an almost villain and a man risen from
the dead laid hidden a juicy reportage.
“So, now we have our local superhero, eh? It was about time! What better has
Metropolis or Gotham than Malibu?” a giggling middle aged woman in a tight
dress totally unfit to her busty silhouette was saying to her company.
“And who else was to follow the late trend than our dear Tony? He will do
anything to get some extra fucks!” a man in his middle thirties commented
rolling his eyes.
“I don’t know what you say but I love Tony; this town would have been extremely
boring, if we didn’t have him!” a blond woman intervened returning from the bar
with a flute in her covered with rings hand. “And I think that you’re jealous
of him!”
She giggled and her giggle was mixed with the roaring buzz of the internal pool
area which was swarmed by guests, as the other spacious halls of Tony Stark’s
house. Dancing music was performed by a famous band and some people were
already absorbed in the bit rather than the gossip.
“Speaking of the devil, where’s Stark?’’ a too serious-looking businessman
asked his company of colleagues.
“You know Stark, Sam; he’d want to make a grand entrance, especially now that
he has the limelight on him…” another young yuppie spat sipping his champagne.
“Nah…” the third member of the company commented “I caught a glimpse of him
with a very serious, very odd – completely un-Stark – guy, heading to Stark’s
office.’’
“What about the little Prince?”
“He didn’t show up yet… He is probably scared” Sam chuckled “after Falcone’s
hard training so many people goggling at his rear, surely made the poor thing
hide in the closet…”
The other two laughed.
“It’s not our fault” the third guy added “that ass is impressive even for
Malibu’s standards… The fact that is so… used doesn’t bother me at all! But
dear Tony, of course, got there first!”
“Don’t be so sick-minded, Ron: they are childhood friends. Stark is beaming
like an idiot – more than usually - from the day his return from the dead
became known.” A bald man, with an arrogant smile in his lips joined the
company.
“Horseshit, Lex! Stark fucks anything that walks and the boy is a walking
temptation… You saw him?”
Lex Luthor sipped his 20 years old whiskey, lifting his narrow brows.
“Only in pictures and TV; the CEO of a giant like LEXCORP has many more
important things to do than chasing pretty little abused boys!”
The others laughed in his face, exchanging knowing looks.
“A little abused boy who managed to snatch Wayne Enterprises right under your
nose and become the President… C’me on, Lex, we know how pissed you are!” Ron
jeered him and Luthor’s eyes became shadowed.
“And since you haven’t met him, you don’t have any right to comment about his…
charisma, Lex” Sam spat “right, guys?” the others nodded “Wait, till you see
him tonight and then we talk again… But I’m saying to you: with him in his
house for two weeks, there’s no chance Stark didn’t fuck Brucey.
Bruce was pacing nervously at his bedroom. He initially was going to meddle
with the crowd of the party, although that prospect didn’t make him happy, but
then he saw Pepper accompanying someone to Tony as he was ready to go to his
guests and Tony showed the newcomer to his office. He instantly knew that it
was serious: Pepper’s face and body language cried it and Tony dismissing his
devoted assistant to discuss in his business office while the party had
started?
He decided to wait in his room for Tony to learn what was going on; Tony
revealing himself as Ironman still made his guts clench… And he had the feeling
that this strange man was here for that reason. His appearance and posture,
although dressed with a black expensive suit, screamed that he had nothing to
do with the people crowding the house and he didn’t care to hide it; his stride
was confident and his posture was too rigid, military-like. He was an imposing
African-American, his head bald with a strange tattoo and Bruce managed to
catch the patch covering his eye.
He was worried about Tony; not that his friend couldn’t defend himself against
anyone but now things were more complex. Without a thought about his carefully
pressed dark blue suit, he sat before his laptop and searched. Searched
feverishly having his ear on the corridor; good thing Tony’s office wasn’t far
from his bedroom.
He gave what he saw of the man as an input to the program he had created
himself and it started perusing the hundreds of public and secret official and
unofficial archives and files from different countries.
The program gave him hundreds of results but the most approximate was that of a
Colonel Nickolas Joseph Fury. He opened a few files. He was a military man, a
hard veteran of the Gulf War, of Iraq and Afghanistan, an agent of the
government through and through: FBI, CIA, S.H.I.E.L.D. Of course. The
government and the S.H.I.E.L.D. If Tony thought that the government would let
him work independently, he was on for a swift disappointment. He pressed his
lips in a tight line. Tony, you chose to swim in very muddy waters…
He heard the door of Tony’s office open and a pair of feet that wasn’t Tony’s
leaving. He closed the program after erasing his traces and left his room,
eager to speak to Tony.
He found Tony leaving his office, buttoning his tuxedo. His face was tense and
shadowed, his eyes angry, but upon hearing Bruce approaching he smiled to him
and looked him frowning. The dark blue suit with the white silken shirt and the
dark blue stripped tie was too flattering…
“You’re trying to steal MY fans? And how you managed in one month to have
Armani dressing you? That’s outrageous!”
“Must be my body analogies… and Alfred’s connections” he winked and Tony rolled
his eyes.
“Dat Alfred! Come on, we have some crowds to stun!” he wrapped his hand around
his shoulders.
“Wait, Tony” Bruce understood that Tony didn’t want to discuss it right now but
they must be prepared. “What did Fury want from you?”
“Hello, Mr. Wayne; I’m so glad you already know me…” a slightly ironic voice
shattered the buzz from the party.
Now, Tony was seriously pissed; his eyes were shooting darts to the towering
sneering man who didn’t seem to care. Bruce acted his surprise and his hand
touched his heart.
“I’m sorry if I startled you” Fury's tone didn’t hint any misgivings about his
deed; on the contrary his disbelief about the young man’s surprise was evident.
“It’s not your fault” he caught his breath “it happens often.”
The one eyed man emanated strength and solemnity. He was looking at Bruce
estimating and somewhat sympathetically, his irony abating for an instant.
“PTSD, right?” he inquired him with the air of a man used to getting answers.
“I’ve seen it in some of my men…”
Bruce stared at him puzzled. He shook his head negatively.
“What is it, Fury?” Tony didn’t want to hide his irritation. “I think we said
everything – there’s no reason for you to linger.”
The man’s smile was crooked and then he sobered and his face was like a punch
in the stomach; his mouth set in a stern frown and his only eye sparkling
drilling the minds of those before him.
“Mr. Stark, I assure you I have no interest in your… partying self; I was just
anxious to meet Mr. Wayne and I’m afraid that I can’t rely on your ‘good will’
to introduce us…”
He spoke like he was shooting, completely unfazed by anything. Tony clenched
his fists.
“You have no business with Bruce! Don’t you dare hassle him!”
The man smiled broadly, his pearly white teeth highlighting the roughness of
his features but his eye was frozen on Bruce who felt like being X-rayed.
“Mr. Wayne, you must tell me your secret… How you achieve that?”
“Achieve what, sir?” he asked puzzled, a bit shyly but not scared.
“You are a magnet for superheroes” he said seriously. “You already have three
superheroes defending you: Superman, Ironman and… Batman. And without having to
do anything, while I must chase them to have a word. What’s your secret?”
Bruce lowered his head.
“Being defenseless and in danger? Anyone with these standards is a magnet for
superheroes.”
“As if, Mr. Wayne, as if…” the man commented dryly. “I’d like to have a private
talk with you, when you return to Gotham.’’
“We are talking now, aren’t we?” Bruce didn’t want to show his true mind to
Fury, which was racing with the possibilities behind the agent’s interest.
“That city of yours has been always fascinating to me and lately that has been
multiplied” his eye’s iris’ faint narrowing was revealing to Bruce: Fury wanted
to fish him. “The ghostly Bat and now yourself… Actually, I was the head of the
Special Forces’ operation against the League of Shadows.”
Bruce made his eyes widen in a completely innocent puppy way. Fury nodded.
“It’s a group of self proclaimed defenders of justice, in reality a bunch of
nut cases with extreme training – very dangerous and with incredible
connections. I have a special interest in this League and their leader Ra’s Al
Ghul who disappeared miraculously after Gotham’s events… I hoped that I’d meet
Batman fighting those assassins but he preferred to save you…” his eye emanated
sparks of intelligence.
“It seems that he trusts you and the Special Forces.”
“He had Superman and Ironman on the job” he laughed “Now, how that dawns on
you, Mr. Wayne? A mere Bat ordering Superman?”
Bruce looked him entirely confused, as if he was overloaded with information.
“Undoubtedly, he is a remarkable man, fighting Gotham’s Emperor alone for
years” Fury continued, shaking his head, his expression sad but resolute. “It’d
be a shame if we had to put him in prison or worse…”
Now, Tony had enough. He made two steps and stood in front of the taller man,
unfazed by their height gap. His expression was challenging the man’s
austerity.
“I think that’s enough, Fury. Bruce had been through a lot all these years and
is here to escape Gotham’s grim; he doesn’t need to hear your mumbling about
things that have nothing to do with him. Bruce doesn’t have anything to do with
your activities and if you continue to bother him, I’ll call off our deal,
financing, technological support and destroy the Ironman project, announcing
whose fault was that US lost a considerable force.”
Bruce saw Fury’s face lose some of his arrogance; his staring contest with
Tony’s enraged eyes cut short.
“Okay, Mr. Stark; there’s no need for such animosity. Mr. Wayne, I’m really
sorry for your suffering and if I caused any… inconvenience. I hope I’ll be
granted a meeting with you at Gotham.”
Bruce’s eyes stared the man innocently.
“You’ll have to fix an appointment with my secretary.”
Fury laughed.
“Of course. You’re a man with a wide variety of activities, after all…”
And after an ominous glare from Tony he turned to leave, saluting them
military-style.
Tony turned to Bruce whose eyes were deep in thought but unreadable.
“Have a good time, Miss Potts” they heard Fury and after a few seconds Pepper
was with them.
She frowned seeing them.
“What happened?” she inquired low voiced.
“A big story… the asshole” Tony exclaimed, his arms folded at his chest.
“We must go” Pepper remarked “Tony, your guests are making crazy stories about
your absence…”
“Right!” he turned to Pepper and instantly the cloud Fury had brought dispersed
“notify our Jack.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Are you sure you want to stick to that nonsense?”
“Sure, girl! People want a show and who am I to disappoint?”
Pepper sighed and with one glance made Bruce follow her. Tony shook his head
disbelievingly.
“That girl knows how to dominate men! Good thing I’m the submissive type…”
 
“Ladies aaand gentle – hmm… as far as I know, not so gggentle – men, the one
and only Jack Napier is here! I couldn’t miss it, right? Superheroes are soooo
comic and I’m a comedian, after all!”
“Not a good one though…” Bruce whispered to Peppers from the corner they
resided and she giggled.
“I agree but he is the first who got an Oscar for a comical role…” she answered
in his ear.
“It only took eighteen years for Oscars to lose their credit…” Pepper’s
laughter was loud now.
On the round airborne stage that was gleaming with changing colors was standing
a tall, thin man in his thirties, dressed in a white suit and a red silken
shirt. A white Stetson with a red ribbon at its base covered his head, a short
blond ponytail brushing his neck. He was good looking, his emerald eyes
glistening in a maddening way as he was continually scanning and scrutinizing
his laughing crowd.
“Now, now, let’s see… I was thinking about our Tony, our knight in a shining
armor – seriously now, Tony: Ironman? Iron is too cheap, soooo mundane; I’d
expect something more sparkling from you… Goldman, Steelman – no that’s taken,
and we wouldn’t want Superman pissed, right? Ugh!” he scratched his hat “I
think the most demanding thing for an aspiring superhero, is finding a suuuuper
name. That’s the reason I’d never become a super-duper hero: imagine not
finding a name – a good idea would be to publish a book with names for wannabe
superheroes. Anyway… Imagine, not finding a name and at the end, naming myself
after… an animal!” he waited till the laughter receded. “Like Batman! Bat –
Man? I think he should take the Oscar of superheroes for the dumbest name: who
wants to have the name of a…bat, except than Dracula, but he, at least, had a
better name… Why not Doberman? Boy, you both have the same ears! Anyway, since
there’s no bird, no plane and no Superman, I give you the best superhero –and
hunk - in town: Tony Stark!”
Pepper rolled her eyes to Bruce and he smiled, his arms crossed.
Tony made his appearance as Ironman drenched in gold and red rays of light
under an imposing dramatic music, among the awestruck exclamations and claps of
the crowd who craned their heads to see Ironman’s flight above their heads. He
landed next to the comedian and deactivated his suit, revealing a cheerful,
beaming, charming Tony Stark.
He bowed to every direction.
“Thank you, my devoted fans, and thank you, Jack, for being with us – I know
you have toooo much work looking for the ugliest clothes to wear!” he shook
hands with him “I know you’re a comedian but white dress suit with a cowboy
hat… Meeeercy!” the comedian laughed and Tony turned to the crowd unaware that
Jack was mimicking the infamous shower scene of Psycho on his back “Welcome,
friends and enemies” he gestured to Lex Luthor who was watching with half
closed eyes “I’m just kidding, dear Lex… and have a great time as always in my
humble house on the hill! Autographs will be given afterhours… in private…” he
winked and some girlish yells erupted.
Tony descended the stage and sending charming smiles to every direction,
approached the corner where Bruce and Pepper were hidden.
“What are you doing here in the shadows? Bruce, if you continue like this,
people will think that you try to steal Batman’s mantle…”
“Now, now, Tony, I think that your friend looks more like a puppy than a bat…”
a dragging voice interrupted and the dressed in white comedian bowed. “Dear
Pepper, dashing as always, although you should try more daring colors, as pink
or velvet…”
“Mr. Napier, I wouldn’t think as a proper advisor for my dressing choices
someone wearing cowboy hat with dress suit…” Pepper smirked.
Tony laughed.
“I told you, Jackie…”
“Ooooh! You should see my underwear, Pepps!”
Pepper towered him.
“I don’t think so, Mr. Napier: I just ate! Gentlemen, excuse me” and she
distanced herself, her posture dignified and impressing.
Tony followed her with his stare and then turned to his company scratching his
nose. Jack’s insistent eyes on Bruce took him out of his reverie.
“Bruce, let me introduce you Jack Napier, America’s most acclaimed comedian –
Jack, my friend Bruce Wayne.”
“America’s most famous Lazarus – not that you have any competition in that -
and rape victim!” his eyes glistened maniac and he offered his hand which Bruce
shook lukewarm. “Can I have an interview? I’m sure many people would want to
know where we go when dead…”
Bruce looked at Tony as if asking him why he was putting him through this.
“Mr. Wayne, I see that you don’t appreciate humor…” the man smiled and Bruce
could detect something off around his lips.
“Only good humor, Mr. Napier.”
“Uhuhuhuhuhu!” the man erupted in a screeching laugh and Bruce widened his eyes
to Tony who shrugged. “Tony, I love Brucey – well, beyond the obvious reasons”
his eyes hungrily strayed to the man’s rear end “but also because he has a
sense of humor…”
“I wish you also had one, Mr. Napier…”
“Call me, Jack, boy-toy, thrilled to meet you…”
And with his shrilling laughter he mingled with the crowd, dancing around
people.
Tony stared at his friend regretfully.
“I’m sorry for that, Bruce. Don’t take him seriously…”
“Tony!”
Tony turned surprised and saw almost with terror a group of young starlets
coming at him, empty flutes in their hands and broad smiles at their drunk
faces. They were rapidly on him, their hands roaming his body and the Ironman
felt the need to call for Batman’s aid but his friend had just vanished. He
sighed.
“Cool down, ladies, I’m not in Ironman’s suit now!”
The girls giggled worse than Napier and dragged him dancing to the floor,
untying his tie and rubbing their hips on Tony’s.
“Look at Stark” said a young woman to her company of admiring men. “Being a
superhero surely didn’t change him… Although the party is dull for Tony’s
standards…”
“Yeah, he kept closed the private rooms.”
“It’s because of the wounded puppy. Stark doesn’t want sexual activities before
the eyes of someone who was constantly raped all his life…”
“Then, he should have put the puppy early in bed…” the woman laughed.
“Now that’d have been a shame, Pamysweet…” Napier came from behind, startling
her “Here, take a sip!” he gave her his glass to drink. “He is an adorable
puppy and biting, tooooo…” he barked.
“You met him, Jack?”
“I came for him, Stevie. I mean the man is ass-some, haha!’’ he sobered
instantly “but he is soooo interesting, too; so much tragedy in only 26 years?
He is what good comedies are made of…” his jubilant eyes darkened evilly.
Pam brushed her lips on Jack’s cheek and he turned to her.
“He is tragedy in flesh and blood, what is so interesting in him for a star
comedian, like you?”
He raised his index finger, holding at the same time the glass with his
whiskey.
“Sweatheart, your silicon lips are the bigger thing on your head – sometimes I
wish there was silicon brains too, uhuhuhu! The best comedies are those based
on tragedies, because what differentiates tragedy and comedy is the handling of
the details… A pitiful victim like Brucey” his voice was icy cold and low “can
become easily the object of huge laughs…”
His chatters were looking at him shocked and Napier smiled broadly.
“But only for him to loosen up a little, you know, like a therapy. Laughter is
the best medicine, after all! That’s the reason I’m going to perform in Gotham;
I mean it’s the most serious city in America, serious in a ridiculous way, I
mean is a city filled with animals pretending to be humans” he scratched his
hat “or humans pretending to be animals? Batman? Catwoman? The first city with
mixed population… They don’t need police, but dogcatchers!” his company erupted
in laughter.
Pepper stood in front of the bar and sipped broody her cocktail. She couldn’t
find Bruce though the party wasn’t chaotic as most of Tony’s parties. On the
contrary, Tony was dancing with two of his bimbos the slow, sensual ballad the
band was playing, in the center of the swarmed hovering floor.
“May I have this dance?” Bruce’s low, suave voice brushed her ears and she
jerked.
“How? Oh, my… Please, don’t do that…”
“I’m sorry.”
“You asked me for a dance?”
Bruce smiled gently and Pepper registered his charm.
“The last time I danced was eighteen years ago, when my mother was teaching me
but I hope I won’t step on your foot…”
He offered her his hand and she took it, following him to the ground floor
which didn’t attract many partiers. Bruce touched his hand on her waist and
took gently Pepper’s in the other; Pepper rested her lean fingers on his strong
shoulder. They started moving in the waves of the music, Bruce correcting his
steps laughing carelessly and Pepper helping him.
“You’re doing great, Bruce” she encouraged him taking in his flushed cheeks.
“With a little practice you’ll be perfect!”
“It’s my dancing partner…”
And surely Pepper was impressive in her red-flame, silken dress which was tied
in the neck, leaving a delicious V opening to her skin tight cleavage, brushing
loosely her shapely thighs to the knees, her endless, shapely calves exposed
with the red stilettos highlighting gorgeously her femininity. Her flame-blond
locks were curly groomed and caressed her entirely naked back. What a back!
Tony thought as Bruce’s and Pepper’s laughs reached his ears and stared at them
dancing slowly on the near empty ground floor.
“Count to ten” Bruce whispered to Pepper’s ear.
“Why?” she asked puzzled.
“That’s how long will take to Tony to come here…’’
Pepper laughed and her fingers brushed Bruce’s broad back.
“Mr. Wayne, you’re wicked!”
He winked.
Pepper was still at seven, when Tony patted Bruce’s shoulder.
“Little guy, you can’t hog the most beautiful woman of the party! This dance is
for the veterans!”
“Okay, old guy. But next time I won’t be so merciful…” Bruce smiled at Pepper
and left them alone, heading to the balcony, glancing now and then at his
friends.
Tony followed for a few seconds his friend’s departing figure and then turned
to his assistant.
“Do you want to go to the hovering stage?”
“No, I don’t like crowded spaces…”
Tony sighed and wrapped his hands around the young woman’s soft body, taking in
that Pepper was towering him; he rolled his eyes.
“Not that it discourages me, but I think that you wear stilettos to look taller
than me.”
“But I’m taller than you, Tony’’ she spat.
“Whatever… Besides the most expensive perfumes are in small bottles…”
“Not if you have the money to take the bigger bottle…” she smirked but Tony’s
grimace was so funny that she laughed.
“So… Are you trying to seduce my innocent friend?”
“And if I am?” her eyes pierced his playfully.
He leaned to her ear.
“I’d be a better candidate…”
“You were busy with your fans, Ironman…”
“Not anymore…”
He cupped the back of her head, cherishing her hair’s softness, and brought his
lips over hers, touching exploratively, hesitantly – the possibility of a slap
always there… But Pepper stormed his lips almost aggressively and Tony was
astonished, goggling at her sparkling eyes, as he delved into the sensation.
Bruce smiled tenderly and walked to the hovering above the dark ocean balcony.
The whole wall windows were withdrawn due to the warmth of the night and it was
as if you were floating among the clouds above the black waves. He inhaled
deeply the gentle sea breeze and the sound of the waves. The balcony was barely
illuminated so the moon was brushing the neon blue granite floor bordered with
glass; Bruce felt like home.
He leaned on the glass-steel rail and let his gaze travel far away. The sounds
of the fest didn’t reach him here and he was feeling completely free; during
the whole evening he was sensing a menacing pair of eyes watching him: maybe it
was his upset for people searching him for signs of abuse and maybe wasn’t just
victim paranoia. At least nothing happened. He breathed calmly, content from
the happiness of the others. The ice melts so that live thrives.
He raised his wrist and look at his watch; the light in Gotham wasn’t lit. He
jerked his head and his eyes were flooded from the moonlight. No, happiness was
something impossible for him; the spot where any positive emotion for himself
could nest was hollow, an abyss where nothing good could stand. He was lucky he
managed to free himself, helping others in the process and he had incredible
people around him. So this must be the closest to happiness, at least for him…
He should be grateful… and he was… but the void inside him sometimes became too
bothersome, like an old wound sensitive to weather changes. And then, as now,
he felt all alone… And it was unfair for the people who loved him…
“Mr. Wayne, how lucky I am to find you here!” a deep, smart with arrogance
voice interrupted rudely his thoughts.
He turned, his eyes still reflecting the black sky and the silver moon of his
world. It was a man approximately at Tony’s age, tall, with charming features,
despite the complete lack of hair and eyes cold as ice, gleaming with arrogance
and irony which was completed by his half smile – half snort. He wore a light
gray tailored suit and he was carrying a half empty flute with champagne. Lex
Luthor in flesh and blood…
Bruce didn’t move from the rail but that didn’t discourage the man from
approaching him strutting.
“That hovering style in architecture is Stark’s best achievement, don’t you
think?”
“Among other things…’’ he spat.
“Except politeness…” Luthor detached his stare from the sky and pierced Bruce’s
face. “He didn’t introduce us. Alexander Luthor; Lex, of the LEXCORP…”
He offered his hand for a handshake and Bruce took it, a canning smile curving
Luthor’s broad face, as his gaze roamed the younger man’s body appreciatively.
“I already knew you… from the news, of course” Bruce commented.
Luthor lifted his brows, laughing.
“I don’t know if that is good or bad, Bruce – may I call you Bruce?” he didn’t
wait for an answer and Bruce just studied him. “Well, Bruce, the thing with the
news is that exaggeration or denigration – do you want me to explain the
meaning of the word to you?” Bruce shook his head in refusal; the man although
spoke with gentleness was like a snake, “…is in most of the cases the result.
Take my advice” he downed a large gulp of champagne “don’t take as granted
everything you hear: always try to know things first hand. For example, look at
Falcone: everyone considered him powerful, invincible and in 24 hours his
company became the company of his slave and he ended up in prison. Who’d
believe that the fret toy will snatch the company before our eyes?”
Bruce pinned him with a stern stare.
“Wayne Enterprises were never Falcone’s; he stole them and now they returned to
their rightful owner” Luthor’s face was full of sarcasm “Mr. Luthor, why are
you so obsessed with Wayne Enterprises?”
“It’s Lex, Bruce. And I’d say their owner…” his eyes peeled Bruce's clothes
unashamed and Bruce clenched his fists. “But my interest was older, right? So,
I’d say that I love challenges and the more something or someone evades me, the
more my obsession flares up…”
Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes and made to leave the trail but Luthor
put his body as an obstacle.
“As I was saying, Bruce…”
“It’s Mr. Wayne” Bruce’s voice lowered some octaves as the color of his eyes.
“Well, Bruce” the man dismissed his correction with a sneering expression “the
news tend to exaggerate or decrease some things; like the pictures or the
screens. You see, I was told that you are a gorgeous man and only if I met you,
I’d fully appreciate your…physics but I was dubious…” he shook his bald head
“Now that I’m seeing you up close, I understand why Falcone kept you alive,
jeopardizing his triumph. Even a disgusting mobster like him couldn’t kill
something so beautiful, so captivating…”
“Oh! Yar truly gorgeous, aren’t ya?” Chill jeered inside his mind.
Bruce felt the steel of the rail sinking in his waist from Luthor’s closeness.
“Mr. Luthor, you’re drunk and I must…’’ his eyes were steel but the older man
was smiling mocking.
“What, little Prince?” he breathed in his face, the stench of alcohol torturing
his nose. “Stark is smooching with Miss Virginia Potts; it is a shame to
disturb them, unless you’re jealous of him, or her” he lifted his brows
inquiringly. “He is fucking you, doesn’t he?” his breath was wet in his cheek
filled with lust and Bruce was repulsed.
“I couldn’t sleep all night thinkin' that asshole having his dick inside ya an'
ya moaning to him for mor'” Chill added his jealousy from the corners of his
brain cells.
He slipped Luthor’s body.
“Tony is my friend. Mr. Luthor, I think you should…”
But the older man cornered him again and Bruce inhaled deeply to control his
impulse to smash him.
“No bullshits to me, little guy” he mocked Tony’s voice “I was at the same
college with him and he was carrying with him a picture of you and himself; you
were adorable from then, an angel and when I said it to him asking to introduce
me to you, he was enraged; he hid the picture in his wallet and never talked to
me again…’’ he laughed sarcastic and Bruce’s eyes glowered. “I don’t consider
that a friend’s reaction…”
“"Yar virginity was mine to take!” Falcone answered Luthor.
“Because your mind is sick!” he exasperated and moved once again to leave.
But Luthor stopped him again. His face leaned upon Bruce’s.
“Come on, Bruce…”
“You are precious, my little whore” Ra’s mocking laugh reminded him.
“Mr. Wayne to you” he gritted his teeth .
“You’re in no position to pose demands and you know it!” he hissed. “You don’t
even have an ID!” his laugh was annoying “Your father’s fortune is at stake and
so is yourEnterprises: we both know that your company isn’t stable and it is
too prone to the sharks swimming the markets” his sly voice was jubilant with
innuendos. “Stark may be your protector but his company isn’t the giant he
wants to show off, so if you really want to reassure your company’s future and
yours, there’s only one choice for you…”
Bruce felt his body tightening in fighting stance.
“Which. Is?”
Luthor brought his lips in Bruce’s cold cheek, his hand caressing the younger
man’s jaw.
“I can insure Wayne Enterprises and make you a true Prince. Come on, Bruce, I
know you like, you need to be dominated. At first, was abuse, rape but after
eighteen years became your existence and now you miss it…”
“Your only purpose giving sexual pleasure to your masters...” Bane’s heavy
accented voice agreed with Luthor and Bruce felt sweat dripping his forehead.
“Falcone was unappreciative; he never rewarded you for your – I’m sure –
remarkable services. But I will be generous” Bruce would have rolled his eyes
if the inferno wasn’t exploding inside him “You don’t have to be dominated by
an old man, baby. Let me fill the void he left, Bruce…”
“Gifting him the body of the last Wayne” Falcone nodded.
As his lips were caressing possessively Bruce’s cheek, Luthor’s groin was
rubbing his, two rude hands pawing his buttocks.
“Oh! You’re delicious!”
“"Yar a fine piece of whore” Chill’s arousal was heavy inside him.
Bruce took a deep breath, clenched his teeth and jolted his knee to Luthor’s
groin, making the older man cry in pain folded in two; the force of the blow
sending him away from the younger man.
Bruce walked self confidently to his pitiful form, towering him, his glare
unflinching and freezing.
“I. Don’t. Like. To. Be. Dominated.”
Luthor raised his eyes confused and disgraced.
“Bruce, what happened?” a worried Tony rushed to the balcony but Bruce didn’t
acknowledge him too absorbed in his opponent’s pained grimaces.
Tony understood immediately and surged to Luthor, grabbing him from the lapels
and heaving him.
“You sick bastard! In my own house?!” his fist sank in Luthor mouth, the man
staggering but managing to stand on his feet.
Luthor brushed his bloodied mouth and laughed, his eyes menacing glared at
Bruce and Tony.
“You’ll pay for that!”
“I’m trembling now” Tony mocked him. “Fuck off, you dork, before I fold you in
a garbage bin and send you to the wasteland where you belong!”
Luthor cast a last glance to the stony face of Bruce and hurried to the exit.
Tony made to wrap his arm around Bruce’s shoulders but he avoided him.
“Are you okay? Bruce?”
Bruce’s eyes gradually focused on Tony’s eyes, their sapphire-emerald color
replacing the darkness.
“I’m okay” he spat.
“What happened?” Pepper flushed stormed to the balcony. “I saw Luthor…”
“We must be more careful with whom we invite to our home… Pepper, notify every
newspaper and TV station we control to expose Luthor’s deed. I’m sure he’ll try
to slander Bruce and me!”
“He doesn’t have a chance” a jubilant female voice interrupted them and Lois
Lane approached them beaming triumphantly. “What he did is already at theDaily
Planet’s site and blog, my personal blog, twitter and Facebook along with
revealing pictures. One million people already know the story and in a few
moments the story will be repost to every affiliated news outlet!”
Bruce turned his eyes to her.
“You’re not alone anymore, Mr. Wayne. By the way, nice blow! Lexie’s little
bird will remember it for a long time.”
Her enthusiastic eyes were so warm that Bruce unwillingly thought of Clark’s
eyes and how their eyes matched.
“Miss Lane, how’s Mr. Kent?”
Tony looked puzzled at him.
She shrugged.
“I guess fine physically, because otherwise he is under the weather. I expected
him to return from Smallville revived but he’s still like a kicked puppy. I
thing is a case of a broken heart: some bitch hurt him. I wish I knew her to
let her know how special Clark Kent is and that she doesn’t deserve his love…”
she suddenly realized shocked that she was talking Clark’s love life with
strangers and blushed.
But Bruce stared at her solemnly.
“Maybe the bitch knows that already …”
And in front of the surprised eyes of everyone he left the balcony with
determined strides, feeling suddenly too tired to bear any human presence.
 
Luthor strode furious to his white, long limousine, his bodyguards rushing to
him seeing his roughed up condition but he pushed them away.
He made to jump into his waiting car and stopped dumbfounded, when he made out
in the car’s low lighting a figure awaiting him. He turned enraged to his
bodyguards.
“Mr. Luthor” a seductive female voice with a heavy Arabic accent brushed his
ears “I don’t think that this is necessary… If I had any bad intention, you
would have been already dead. Please, join me. We have many common interests…”
Luthor’s adjusted to the semi-darkness eyes took in a young woman in her late
twenties, dashingly beautiful with her big almond shaped black eyes sparkling
mockingly. She had her legs crossed and the vast tear at the side of her long
skin tight black velvet dress was revealing her tempting thigh. Her snaky hands
were entirely covered by long sleeves ending at the middle of her palms and the
shining velvet was closing high at her tanned neck.
A fem fatale Luthor smirked and sat beside her, shutting the door and ordering
Mercy to leave the place.
“Who are you, missy?”
She smiled and her smile was poisonous, filling Luthor with dread.
“Talia Al Ghul. Yes, you knew my father. We have many things in common…” she
dragged the words, her sensational lips caressing the air.
“Such as?” Luthor somewhat calmed asked.
“Revenge.” She handed him a small green glowing rock. “You want Superman and I
want Bruce Wayne” she shrugged “I guess Ironman can be a bonus…”
Luthor laughed sarcastic.
“Kryptonite? I was the one who supplied Kryptonite to Ra’s Al Ghul…”
She brushed her index finger to his broad jaw.
“But your Kryptonite was never enough, right Lex? My father knew the true
lethal Kryptonite for your little enemy.”
He lifted an eyebrow mockingly.
“Then why he didn’t use it?” he asked disbelievingly. “Speaking of the demon,
where is he?”
Talia looked from the opaque window the descending hill.
“He is dead, killed by the same lethal weapon that he intended to use against
Superman.”
Now, Luthor was intrigued and at the same time considering the young woman
completely loony.
“I don’t understand and I don’t like the feeling, so if you don’t speak clear,
I’ll drop you out of my car!”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible…”
She laughed. And the driver’s head turned for Luthor to see a man’s covered
with black silk face.
“Where’s Mercy?” he asked worried.
“With your bodyguards, safe and sound… The Kryptonite I’m talking about is
Bruce Wayne, Lex. He killed my father, too…”
Luthor stroked his bald head amused.
“He isn’t the pretty little abused boy, Lex” she repeated exactly his words and
Luthor shuddered. “And your enemy has an” she smiled “infatuation with him – as
my father had… If we destroy Bruce Wayne, we destroy Superman, as well…”
“If he killed Ra’s Al Ghul, then he is dangerous…”
“I think you just experienced that rather painfully” she smirked.
“If you want Bruce Wayne, why you came to ask my collaboration?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Because Superman, Ironman and Batman helped Bruce Wayne and are his allies, so
in order to vanquish them, we should form an alliance too.”
Luthor’s mind was racing.
“If Bruce Wayne killed the Demon, then could he be Batman?”
She shook her head, her long black hair brushing her shoulders.
“I don’t know that; maybe my father knew but didn’t say to anyone. So we move
with what we already know. Well, Lex?”
“Your…League of Shadows is powerful; so, why you want my alliance?”
“I told you” she said impatiently “If we attack him, his friends will come to
help him; we want you to engage Superman till we get Wayne, then a heartbroken
Superman would be an easy target.”
“And Stark?”
She smirked.
“He has enemies, too…”
“Even if these two are out of the game, there’s Batman.”
“I’m sure he cares more about Gotham than Bruce Wayne. For the last time, Lex:
deal or not?”
Luthor half closed his eyes thoughtful. He smiled.
“I want Bruce Wayne, too…”
Talia shook her head in denial and exasperation.
“This man is evil! You didn’t learn from what happened to the others obsessed
with him? The two are dead, the third in jail.”
“Two dead? Who’s the second?”
“Chill. To make things clear: Bruce Wayne belongs to us; after we get him,
you’ll take his company as reward and we’ll fulfill my father’s biggest dream:
eradicating Gotham in a river of blood.”
She was hissing and Luthor grimaced: slaughtering an entire city was Al Ghul’s
biggest dream? What an idiot! He half smiled.
“You can just lend Wayne to me to pay for my humiliation and then do whatever
you want with him.”
“I guess that I could do …”
Luthor took her offered hand, shook it and then kissed it gently, his cunning
eyes on hers.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Jack Napier jumped out of his old type Beetle painted in patchwork style and
entered his medium sized villa at the outskirts of a neighborhood filled with
celebrities.
“And I'm too sexy for your party, Starky. Too sexy for your party, Starky.No
way I'm disco dancing …” he sang overdoing his nasal voice, twisting his body
like a hysterical stripper.
He walked singing and dancing to the huge living room which walls were covered
with framed black and white or fluorescent colored posters of himself. He took
his hat.
“And I'm too sexy for my hat. Too sexy for my hat… What do you think about
that?” he cast an inquiring look at his white-red cowboy hat, as if he was
expecting an answer and when he didn’t take one threw it to the neon-pink hat
stand but he missed and the hat fell to the floor, making Napier show to it his
middle finger. “Show pooper!”
“I’m too sexy for my shirt”he started unbuttoning his red shirt“too sexy for my
shirt… So sexy it hurts…”he slapped his ass “Ouch! It reeeaaaly hurts!”
He sat at the vanity he had in the living room and scrutinized his face’s
reflection in the shaped as a multi-rayed star mirror and turned on the red,
blue, green and purple bulbs at the perimeter of the mirror. The vanity’s
metallic surface was swarmed with every kind of bizarre bottle, small vases and
different make-up tools, whilst at the base of the mirror stood the Oscar he
won the previous year, dressed with pink laced slip and bra.
He took the cotton pads for make-up’s removal and began rubbing his face, until
two patches of foreign skin were distinguishable covering his two cheeks
starting from the corners of his lips. He peeled them of and threw them to the
floor. He stared with adoration at the face smiling at him.
A good looking face with almost perfect skin without wrinkles but with a
permanent grotesque smile made from two deep scars starting at the corners of
his lips to the middle of the cheeks, one at each side, stitched with black
thick material to make sharp contrast with his pale skin. At the center, his
full busty lips were finishing the scary clown impression. He kissed his own
lips on the mirror.
“I’m too sexy for my love, too sexy for my love… Love is going to leave me…” he
sang in a solemn almost sad voice and his eyes sparkled making him lose himself
in their depths.
The beep from his left working laptop on the short table in front of the neon
blue couch notified him that he had a new message and woke him up. He jumped
over the couch and landed on the bare floor.
“Ouuuuu! I love emails!”
Some ‘friend’ from Facebook had shared something with him, pointing out that at
the moment, this was the number one video in the net. If it was so popular,
it’d be useful for his shows. He opened the link and the first comment caught
his eye before he started the video:
“Luthor gets his balls kicked!”
Now that would be fan!
He hit play and he saw the spectacular balcony of Stark’s house with two men
stuck at the rail – whatever happened must happened after he had left, fuck!
The image focused on the two men and Jack sent a kiss to the one who captured
this, because the phone had very high definition and he was able to see crystal
clear the bald head of Lex Luthor upon none other than Bruce Wayne who was
trying to evade him, obviously pissed off. But Luthor wasn’t letting him, on
the contrary he continued to mumble things – which unfortunately weren’t heard
– and finally glued his lips to Wayne’s cheek, his hands pawing those
deliciously protruding buttocks and Jack licked his busty lips.
“Ha!” he exclaimed. “Lexie, you’re a veeeeeery nauuughty boy! Now I have to ki-
kill you!”
In that second, the young man jolted his knee and sank it to Luthor’s groin,
the bald cried out loud and found his butt landed some feet away from Wayne who
approached him like a boss.
“I. Don’t. Like. To. Be. Dominated.” The comedian heard the voice of the man he
met at Stark’s party yet the voice now was steady and demanding.
“That’s myyyyy boy!” Jack cheered and replayed the video watching fascinated
and laughing, his eyes fervent. “I knew you were a tiger and not a kitten…”
“What made you so thrilled?” a flat, indifferent female voice asked him.
The comedian raised his maniac eyes and stared at the young woman who descended
the stairs wearing only a white shirt that covered half her thighs. She was
smoking a cigar and her brown eyes were cast uninterested at the half naked
man, her jaw-length blond hair brushing her cheeks.
Jack whistled.
“You should have come to the party with that dress – Stark would have goggled
or maybe you could have ‘healed’ the little Prince.”
She came to the couch and towered the sat on the floor man.
“Horseshit!” she exclaimed and sank at the couch leaning upon the screen to see
what Jack was watching.
“Rachie, I think you are a lesbian…”
“Try asexual…” she answered bored without taking her eyes from the screen.
Jack kissed her naked calf.
“Nah, dear, last week we had sex!”
“Exactly!” she answered coldly and the man erupted in a crazy fit of laughter.
“Muhahahahaha! Ahah, haha… And you say that my jokes are awful…”
She sucked her cigar and sniffed at him with her heavy-lidded eyes.
“I didn’t joke, but try it with your audience; after all, your audience isn’t
too intelligent…”
Jack scratched his head.
“That, I guess is offending; but for me or my audience?’’
She shrugged.
“Is this the object of your excitement?” she pointed her finger at the video.
“Yep! Poor LexieLu! He had his hand in heaven – heheh – and then he had his
hand on his broken dick – buhuhuhuh!”
“Now you’re laughing or coughing?” she asked with her bored, husky voice.
“I think booth! I’m heartbroken now” he said mock sadly “BruLex will stay a
dream… BruLex! I’m brilliant: it’s like the name of a French dessert, eh? That
leaves Brucey to me; hmmm… JaBrucey! No” he sighed “it sounds like Jacuzzi…”
The woman rolled her eyes and inhaled the last of her cigar.
“You intend on taking his skin for your scar patches? By the way, be tidier
with the patches you use! Don’t throw them everywhere. Just in case…”
The comedian stood and collapsed beside her.
“Nah! Nobody cares about homeless and strays… And noooooo! I don’t want to take
Brucey’s skin; if I was to take something from him, that’d be his high
cheekbones orrrrr that delicious ass oooorrrr his puppy eyes oooorrrr… any
suggestions?”
She cast him a glare and he giggled.
“I don’t want to kill him” he continued sobering rapidly, causing the young
woman’s curious stare. “Seriously now! I didn’t tell you, huh? We’re going
tooooooo Goootham! Oh!” he closed his eyes reminiscently “I. Love. Gotham!”
“From when? That’s the most boring city in the world!”
“Gotham boring, Racheldeer? With Batman? The giant flying rodent that beats bad
guys! Ooooh! He is my good twin and I his evil twin – he has even my humor!”
Rachel slapped her eye.
“Oh, Jesus! Another one with YOUR humor?”
But he didn’t give her any attention.
“And there’s Brucey… No, I won’t kill Brucey, I’ll just make him smile… He’s
been through a lot; he deserves a big smile… Permanently. And then I’ll hire
him as my second assistant after you, of course: he won’t take your job…”
“I’m not your assistant, Jack: I’m your legal representative!”
Jack laughed screeching Rachel’s ears.
“Huhuhuhuh! Legal representative? Huh! I won’t call someone who watches a man
curving smiles at people’s faces and then still watches him as he rips their
guts slowly a ‘legal representative’? You loooove the spectacle, don’t you? And
the screams… The begging…” he glanced at her with mock solemn eyes “Of course,
dear, I respect your degree in law; you took it from Harvard, after all…
Although… That loony doctor Crane took his own from there, too, right?” he
furrowed his brows innocently “I mean that school is a bit… Mmmm… I mean they
must check the water pipes! Heheheheheh!”
She rolled her eyes.
“And you want to go to Gotham for what? Just to play with that lunatic and with
Bruce Wayne?”
He glowered at her, every bit of joking mood leaving its place to seriousness
and malice. His eyes were completely frozen and shining. He raised his index
finger in front of her eyes.
“No, su-sugar. My games are not ‘just’, they are important, because Gotham will
become my kingdom” his voice was more nasal than usual and monotonous, as if it
was the wheels of his peculiar mind that were talking. “It’s the perfect place:
a city that is perpetually struggling to find order resisting the chaos – I’ll
teach them to embrace chaos and never resist it, because order is soooo dull…
After all, the chaos was the start of all things… I’ll become the ruler of that
wonderful city. They don’t have a king but they have a Prince and a Knight.
Soooo, I’ll marry the Prince and I’ll take the throne!”
Rachel shook her head in disbelieve.
“You finally need to see a doctor!”
But Jack grabbed her throat with one hand so swiftly that she didn’t catch the
motion. He brought his frantic eyes in front of hers, constricting her air
pipe.
“I’m bored of that Jack Napier – killing people for fun, well, has its fun but
enough. It’s time everyone saw my true face and my true talent; MY BRILLIANCE!
I’ll become everyone’s nightmare, the laughter that chills the blood…”
He let her throat and she brushed the bruised skin, keeping her ironic
expression.
“Your true face?”
“Yeeeep” he nodded “Man’s greatest fear: the thing that brings laughter turned
to the thing that causes death and screams of pain…” his maniac eyes were
focused avidly to the huge whole wall poster of Stephen King’s ‘It’. “Rachie,
do you think that the Bat loved clowns as a bat-ling?”
She ruffled indifferently her short white-blond hair.
“Falcone’s thugs say that it isn’t a human…”
Jack smiled stretching even more his grotesque scars.
“Human race is overrated… And bestiality is something I didn’t taste yet…”
Rachel stood from the couch and flexed her average height body, yawning. Napier
turned to her.
“Honey, if we want you to seduce that Dent, you need to change your hair
color…”
“Why seducing him?”
“Because it’d be fun!”
She cursed.
“And why not Bruce Wayne?”
Jack’s eyes became dark and threatening, his lips in a tight, stern line.
“Because you suit Dent better: he is the DA and you a – let’s say – lawyer
aaaaand” he instantly became solemn “ because Brucey is mine; he has a label
‘PRIVATE AREA’ on him and the trespassers will be punished…”
“You’re too piggy: Batman and Brucey?” she snapped sarcastic.
“I like threeeeesomes…” he answered without looking her.
“And why change my hair?” she rubbed a lock between her fingers.
“Because you’re like a porno star not the lawyer Rachel Dawes…”
“Dork! And you?”
“As you, my dear, I’ll finally be myself. The Joker: the crazy card
of the deck that goes wherever it wants, terrorizes everyone and at the end
takes the game…” he mumbled, his stare again on the pictures of Lois Lane’s
article. “Call the boys!”
Rachel looked him lifting one eyebrow.
“The. Boys?”
He nodded like his head was almost detached from his neck.
“Yep, the loonies from the broken clinic. First, we’ll make a stop at
Metropolis…”
 
Clark knew the place, the time and the feeling: the tormenting uncertainty and
the uneasiness, the restlessness of being indecisive.
He was floating in a cloudless but menacing grim sky, the cold freezing
although Superman was impervious to weather conditions. The moon was full and
shining, its silver-blue glow enhancing the feeling of cold and the shiver of
his body that had nothing to do with the weather.
His surroundings with the rich plants and trees forming ominous shadows,
sparkling from the ice particles upon them like they were alive ready to attack
him. Like in those terror movies that haunt children’s nightmares.
But he was Superman, he defeated mighty villains, he was powerful, he wasn’t
afraid of nature; the creepiness had to do with what he was hearing…
The desperate whines and cries that always followed the horrific howl of lean
and compact leather in the air as was descending with extreme force to dag in
tender flesh. His acute hearing could even catch the rush of blood drops and
particles of muscle as they exploded in the air. And then the scream, the
muffled sobs and in the end the effort to draw some air in order to take the
next blow.
And there were many blows: Superman counted eighty as his own sweat drenched
his face and neck and his heartbeat raced to meet his Star’s heartbeat as his
suffering was culminating. Superman could make out clearly the blood slithering
on Bruce’s buttocks and on his thighs to drop slowly to the thick carpet. He
could hear his Star’s exhaustion and Falcone’s excitement as he increased the
force of his whips, seeing his slave’s lack of intense reaction.
And he was just floating choking in his stupid lack of determination, as if
some Kryptonite shackles were holding him… And then the torture ended, Falcone
ordering the others to leave him and Bruce alone. And he listened as the
mobster dragged his slave to the bed; listened the rubbing of leather on tender
flesh and the hoisting of weak hands to be bound tightly on the headboard. He
heard the pleadings of his Star as his tormentor took off his own clothes and
then ripped with a knife the remaining clothes covering the beloved body…
He listened as the mobster’s plumber lips and his wet tongue were conquering
Bruce’s defenseless flesh and his Star’s heart beat desperately like a fish
dying in the sand…
That’s enough! It was like the invisible shackles released him with that and he
stormed to the Manor’s master bedroom, smashing the large window, frames
splintering around him.
Grinding his teeth, grabbed the naked mobster who was sniggering at his slave’s
torment and began bombarding him with his fist of steel, indifferent to his
yells and cries of pain as the mobster had been to Bruce’s cries. Falcone was a
mass of blood and broken bones when Superman threw him to the floor and rushed
to the bed where his Star’s unique eyes were looking at him grateful and
inquiring, numbing Clark.
He was laid on his back completely naked with his shivering legs slightly
spread as his master had set them, his enticing body fully exposed to his
hungry eyes, but Superman was absorbed in the blood that had soaked the bedding
under his hips; Bruce’s blood. With one movement he tore the leather bounding
and tearing his wrists and laid cautiously, tenderly the shaking hands on the
pillow.
The sapphire-emeralds were constantly watching Clark’s eyes, as if exploring
him and his feelings.
Clark took the sheets that formed a buddle at the end of the mattress and
covered gently Bruce’s nakedness to spare him from the uneasiness of being
stared by a stranger.
“I’ll notify, Alfred…” he whispered to him and smiled reassuringly.
He grabbed the unconscious mobster and opened the heavy oaken door to leave,
having the feeling of steady eyes on him.
“Please don’t go…” he heard his Star’s hesitant voice from the bed.
He turned smiling soothingly.
“Don’t worry… Nobody is going to touch you again… I…I’ll take that man to the
police but first I’ll tell Alfred to come…”
“Stay with me for a while” the voice wasn’t demanding or throaty but still it
had the quality of an order, an order you couldn’t –no – you didn’t want to
disobey.
He tossed the mobster at the corridor like a pest and closed the door. He
approached the bed with easy, slow, non-threatening strides. He dragged a chair
to the side of the bed and sat, his eyes on his Star’s wet with cold sweat face
and his red but calm now eyes. His hands were still on the pillow where he had
left them.
“I’m here, Bruce, and I’ll be always here for you…” he leaned upon him but
restrained his eager hand to touch .
Bruce’s stare however was privy.
“Touch me…” his voice was now throaty yet suave.
He leaned more above Bruce’s face; nobody could imagine how much he wanted to
comply but he knew that he must not: Bruce was in a very sensitive position,
saved by another rape and wanted to thank his savior in the only way he knew –
he surely had sensed Clark’s lust and wanted to give him what he desired: his
body; but he didn’t desire only his body, he craved him fully. His mind, his
emotions, his heart and his soul and to have that he should be patient.
“No, Bruce…” he shook his head in denial and he saw the beautiful eyes becoming
sadder than before, like a beaten puppy’s that had begged a stranger to pet him
and the stranger gave him another kick.
He should leave before these eyes coax him do something that would hurt Bruce
and shut him out of his heart forever. He stood and turned to leave.
“Alfred, will be here and you won’t be alone. I must leave now…”
He heard Bruce’s tired head rolling to the opposite side of the pillow; he
heard the imperceptible sound of his velvet eyelids covering his eyes with
dread, his breaths laborious and his heartbeat heavy with despair.
“You’re disgusted by me…” he whispered. “Leave… I’m no good for you… I’m no
good for anyone…”
His voice was determined, steady and strong but Clark’s superhuman hearing
could detect the faint bits of bitterness and pain. He cupped both sides of
Bruce’s hot head and brought it near his bent one. He didn’t open his eyes.
“Please, Star, open your eyes.”
“No. I don’t want to see your beautiful eyes, they are so clear, so warm and
honest, and I don’t deserve to look at them. Leave to find someone worthy…”
“You are worthy, Star, you’re worthier than anyone else. Please, open your
eyes…”
He opened his eyes and Clark had to fight the urge to kiss his long eyelashes
yet his self restrain made Bruce sigh.
“You’ll never love me because whenever you see me, you see the disgusting
victim!” his Star was now the Batman announcing the results of his research.
“You’re not disgusting, for God’s sake! I just don’t want to push you, to hurt
you…” Clark’s voice was cracked, desperate to persuade Bruce for his honesty.
“Then, show me that I’m not appalling… Please, show me that you can love me…
Please, Clark…” his determined, unflinching eyes were in his, mesmerizing,
charming him with their invincibility, with their sweetness.
Every reasonable voice trying to stop him, reminding him that this human being
despite his powerful external was fragile and his hold would wound him more,
wasn’t audible anymore just a white noise. His world was Bruce’s eyes and his
soft, velvet lips as his own were massaging them carefully, gently, nibbling
experimentally, sinking in their warmth…
His Star moaned appreciatively and relieved, making his heart jolt in his
chest. He wasn’t hurting him! He even felt Bruce’s lips moving shyly under his
own to taste his flesh and he smiled, following every motion those rosy lips
did, breathing at the same time with Bruce, sucking the air Bruce exhaled to
take in his body his Star’s smell, his Star’s life…
He felt free, relaxed, happy, so happy that all his fears fled away and he
wanted to love him, to show him that there was the kind of flesh contact that
wouldn’t left him ashamed and hating himself.
His feverish lips with their own volition caressed his hot, sweaty cheek and it
was so smooth, so dreamy that he couldn’t stop kissing; he couldn’t let the
smell, the feeling part away from him. He saw through the mist of his pleasure,
Bruce’s eyes sparkling content; he was happy that Clark wasn’t repulsed by him.
And that happiness was giving wings to Clark, the sense of flying inside him
better than the actual flying he was so keen on.
He stroked with his open mouth Bruce’s fine jaw, descending to his swan neck
that arched to give him better access, but his hands were jealous now, they
wanted their share. He craved to touch, to fill one more of his senses with his
trembling Star, so his greedy hands roamed the brunette drenched in sweat
locks, as his mouth savored the skin of the neck, and the vibrating vein down
to the dimple where the neck meets the chest. He sucked the flesh there and
Bruce moaned and whined and Clark raised his eyes under his sweaty forehead to
meet his Star’s grateful, glistening eyes.
“If you feel… If you want me to stop, tell me…”
But Bruce cupped Clark’s jaw in his hands and lifting his pained body, pinned
his lips on Clark’s, kissing him with the clumsiness of a first doer but at the
same time the demand and force of Batman. And Clark was absolutely melting, his
own hands which were still delved into Bruce’s hair, retreating frantic to his
own suit which was choking him. His hands shaking from the feeling of Bruce’s
lips on his own were unable to find a way to get rid of the upper part of the
suit, so he just tore it, his enormous, covered with perfectly shaped muscles
torso cherishing the air of the room.
His Star’s eyes stared appreciatively at his chest and he surged to kiss
Clark’s shoulders; the massage of those velvety lips covering Clark’s body with
goosebumps and making the almighty Superman moan. He grabbed Bruce’s shoulders
and forced his eyes to look at him.
“Tonight I will worship your body… I waited so much time – a lifetime… I dreamt
it so many times…”
He touched tenderly his Star’s body on the mattress and gently, smoothly,
feathery he took the sheet that had the nerve to caress his love’s naked body.
A perfect body with the sculpted muscles of a statue, a marble statue since his
Star’s skin was pale like an angel’s; strong, bulky pectorals giving their
place to a flat belly toned with hard trained abdominal muscles.
Bruce’s eyes were watching from above Clark’s eyes’ route; his anxiety obvious,
searching for any sign of dissatisfaction or grimace in Clark’s face. But
Clark’s heartbeat was so raving by the outstanding view that he couldn’t
whisper anything to sooth his fears. Instead he rested his body cautiously on
Bruce’s, his enormous palms brushing the naked pectorals which flexed under his
touch, inviting Clark’s lips to ease their need. And he obliged. Kissing the
sweaty deliciously hot flesh, tracing their lines, boosted by Bruce’s moans of
want and his fingers that ruffled Clark’s raven locks, thanking him and leading
him.
His Star’s surprised groan as his mouth enclosed his aroused nipple, terrified
Clark. He looked at Bruce’s drenched in sweat flushed face, Clark’s fear
evident, but his Star was smiling and his smile was more beautiful than the
life - giving sun. And he savored the rosy lips, his hands continuing their
travel in Bruce’s breasts, their dive in pleasure through the ripples of the
tight muscles.
He reached again the nipple he left to the cold and warmed it again with his
wet mouth, kissing whole-mouthed the strong muscle forming the breast and then
his hunger unabated ran with his mouth the arc in the middle of his torso,
Bruce moaning, his breath laborious ending in desperate groans and grunts as
Clark’s mouth and tongue explored his tight belly, licking, sucking the flesh
and rolling it inside his mouth.
Bruce’s body was a writhing arc, wanting more of Superman’s extremely sensual
touch, his tortured hips rubbing into Clark’s arousal. But Clark didn’t want to
break away from that soft, tight belly, smelling like heaven. His tongue tasted
the sweat there and his Star convulsed as if an electric current was piercing
his body, his heartbeat a stampede of strong demanding beats, his rasping
urgent, the emerald stars inside his eyes dancing like his convulsing body.
Clark felt tears of happiness seeing his Star’s face framed by drenched locks
which had glued in the sweaty, reddish flesh that emanated hotness; his eyes
shining like true gems. He felt his Star’s trembling legs wrapping around his
still dressed with wet spandex thighs, using Clark’s body as support to hoist
his body to attach his flesh to the flesh of the powerful being. He was kissing
Clark’s broad neck, simultaneously rubbing demandingly his groin on Superman’s
erection, his clumsy hands exploring the flawless deltoids. Bruce’s head nested
exhausted in the curve made by neck and jaw, his hot racing breath on Clark’s
ear, enchanting his skin and flaring his erection.
His hands were holding desperately Clark’s perfect back and his eyes searched
the clear blue that was covered by his fully dilated pupils.
“Please, Clark…”
Clark could fill his Star’s soaked in sweat naked body crying for him, writhing
and trembling synchronized with his own, persuading him to fully claim him to
save him from his tormentors. And his throbbing erection was yelling its
agreement.
He struggled to lower the second part of his suit but in the end he settled for
ripping the annoying sticky fabric, his erection happy to be free, hungry to
have what he craved for.
Clark’s greedy hands encouraged by Bruce’s wet kisses on his chest grabbed his
buttocks, brushing softly to spread them so to welcome him inside the needing
body. But he felt his hands wet with something sticky and Bruce’s kisses
abruptly stopped, his sensual moans becoming grunts of pain and sobs of fear.
Clark’s panicked eyes looked at his palms: red-black blood and particles of
tortured flesh covered them and his Star lifted his eyes which were filled with
complain and then resignedly just closed, his head resting on the panicked
Clark’s shoulder. He tightened the hold on the naked body to make it feel
again, writhe again but it was slipping between his potent, like melting ice…
He jerked, gasping, hastily opening his eyes to take in his lean bedroom in his
apartment in Metropolis which was vibrating different lights and sounds through
the slats covering his small window.
He rubbed his sleepy eyes. What a dream! His body was still very hot and… Nice…
“Houston, we got a problem…” he said and his voice was throaty, as he took in
the…rebellion in the … Southern States. “Luthor, you son of a bitch!”
It was Luthor’s fault… If he hadn’t seen the video and the pictures Lois took
from that bastard’s assault to his Star, he wouldn’t have seen Bruce in that
suit and he wouldn’t have remembered the day he saved him from another assault
and how his almost naked body looked and felt on his own… Right, keep going
like this…
He disentangled himself from the blankets, his … problem more obvious and
headed for the bathroom mumbling curses. He wasn’t a teen anymore and even then
he always felt embarrassed touching himself…
“Shit!” he said to his stubbly face in the small mirror yet his eyes were
shining happy – happy with nothing! “Okay, stop protesting!” he exasperated and
brought his palm in his aching member.
He closed his eyes and his eidetic memory revived the images of the dream. How
the naked, sweaty, trembling with lust body felt in his arms, hot, velvet and
strong, how the soft exhales from Bruce’s lungs felt upon his hot skin, the
sound of his strong, demanding heartbeat, ordering him to claim his body. He
gasped, as an electric current pierced his spine, jerking his body and flooding
his bathroom…
He inhaled deeply; that was quick… He noticed that he still had Bruce’s
heartbeat and aspiration in his ears and realized that during his orgasm he
must have searched and found Bruce’s presence. If Bruce ever finds out that he
used him as a means for… But it was Bruce’s fault, wasn’t it?
His brows furrowed as the relaxed, sleepy heartbeat became frantic and loud,
like a cry for help. As his breaths which were choking, agonizing, mixed with
hopeless sobs and moans and even cries, pleadings – yes, he could hear clearly
that Bruce was pleading. Someone had attacked him and had bent him, but how?
Stark’s house was a fortress…
Damn Stark and his Ironman! With his announcement he exposed himself and Bruce…
In an instant, Superman was in the sky flying to Malibu his teeth gritted,
determined to smash whoever dared to touch his Star. 
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
     I'd like to thank all of you for reading, leaving kudos and
     commenting.
     Also, I want to warn you about the disturbing content of this
     chapter.
     Last but not least, I want to point that the reference to Star Wars
     was inspired by my friend CompletelyBatty.
The jubilant sounds of chatting, singing and giggling had abated as most of the
clients who cluttered the spacious cabaret had left, but his tired mind was
still aching from the loud sounds, as his racing heart inside his cold body.
Sometimes even his breath became too hard, the knot in his air pipe seemed to
have grown thorns.
He was watching from his shadowed corner, cringed into a small ball, Falcone,
Chill and his most trusted henchmen laughing and making out with the girls of
the store. They were drunk – empty bottles of expensive champagne littering
their table and the floor near them.
He didn’t care that they were celebrating because Falcone bent Fox’s resistance
and gained the control of his father’s company – he heard them laughing and
bragging about that. It didn’t matter; his parents were dead, they wouldn’t
come back ever and he was trapped here, prisoner –no – slave to his parents’
killer, his body in the absolute control of those horrible men. He didn’t care
about the companies or the house or the money, he just was hungry, so hungry
that his stomach ached. And his hand was in terrible pain – no surprise there,
it always throbbed and pierced his mind… he just wanted to sleep…
Although one year and something  or more, he wasn't sure anymore had passed
since he was living like a normal kid, he still didn’t get used to his new
life: his body still asked to be fed three times a day, at least, still asked
to go to sleep at least at ten o’clock in the evening. And now it was three
o’clock in the morning – the filthy plastic watch on the kitchen’s table was
saying that – and he had to wait for them to leave so to sweep and mop the
floor and only then he would be thrown to that cold cave to manage to sleep for
a couple of hours, before being violently woken up to start his daily chores.
Finally, the cabaret was empty and he began sweeping the dusty and covered with
all kinds of rubbish floor, his mind wanting so badly to travel far away but he
oppressing it to remain there because it was more torturing to imagine
beautiful things and then being dragged back to this, to the pain and the
constant exhaustion and despair, the shame of being naked in front of the men
who killed your parents and of their flesh forced upon yours.
A hand bit on the upper arm of his impaired hand and he jolted, a yell of
surprise leaving his mouth. Raised his eyes and saw the giant smirking from his
towering height, his eyes sparkling with an ominous gleam. He squeezed sadistic
the crippled hand and he cried. Chill began dragging him from the hall.
“I…I have work to do, sir… I didn’t finish…Please…” he protested weakly, a
feeling of dread setting in his trembling heart.
But the man sniggered, the stench of alcohol dripping all over him, and simply
tightened more his hold on the arm, causing the boy’s agonizing sobs and rasps.
He dragged him down the stairs that lead to the basement and for a stupid
instant, Bruce thought that he will lock him to his cell, but Chill passed the
door and continued to a door at the far end of the corridor. Bruce’s heart
kicked violently in his frail bones from a sickening feeling.
Chill opened without letting his arm and pushed him inside. It was a bare space
with only a big table in the middle and a strange looking furniture. But
Bruce’s terrified eyes were focused on a drunk Falcone who was staring at him
with a bottle of champagne at his hand; he was beaming triumphantly and the boy
wanted to withdraw yet the giant’s mass was an unmovable obstacle, so he only
cringed as the mobster approached him.
Chill’s arm wrapped his neck and Falcone cupped his small jaw and yanked his
head, their eyes met; Bruce closed his eyes not standing the malice in those
grey eyes.
“Please, sir, I have work to do…”  he whispered and tried to lower his head but
the older man didn’t let him, pushing his head more upwards, his eyes
appreciating his features.
Then, he stretched his palm to Chill who gave him his cleaver; Bruce’s eyes
widened in terror and he tried to resist but the mobster brushed the shining
blade on his stretched neck.
“Don’t move!”
The boy swallowed hard, thwarted by Chill’s arm on his throat. He yelled from
surprise and terror as the blade began slicing his already ragged clothes, the
room's cold attacking his shivering body, as his owner threw the rags on the
floor. Bruce realized panicked that he was standing completely naked, his
parents’ killer scrutinizing him with a mean smile.
Falcone laughing ominously, lifted the bottle, brought the opening on Bruce’s
forehead and let the golden liquid flood the boy’s face. He closed his eyes to
prevent them from being drenched, the alcohol stinging his nose, the liquid
sticky in his skin.
His owner made his hold on the boy’s jaw more secure and leaned his face on the
boy’s. He began sucking the champagne from Bruce’s face, the boy squirming but
Chill immobilized him by pressing more his throat.
Falcone moaned appreciatively and searched every corner of Bruce’s cheek with
his meaty tongue for the expensive liquid. He sobbed as the monstrous wet piece
of meat attacked his eyelids, terrified that he wanted to uproot his eyes.
“Please…”
He heard the motion before he felt the strike at his cheek, making his nose
bleed and his body fly to the floor, landing painfully on his crippled arm. He
didn’t want to cry, he wanted to keep his mouth shut but his body began
quivering mortified and his chest heaving with the sobs he struggled so much to
withhold. Because he knew that he was to be punished with beatings or worse…
And the tears broke away from his closed eyelids; his nose throbbing from the
punch and his cheek stinging, Falcone’s ring had left a deep gush on the tender
flesh.
The sobs had their own will and as the shuffling of Falcone’s feet came nearer,
they became faster and louder.
“Please, sir, I didn’t do anything… You can ask…” the sobs and moans choked
him.
The mobster grabbed his hair and hoisted him to throw him on the wooden table
with a thud, his breath cut in his chest.
“Strap him!” ordered lighthearted his right hand .
He had landed on the table on his stomach and Chill left him like this. He
grabbed his limbs and stretched them so much that Bruce cried, his teary eyes
on Falcone’s merciless face – especially, his cripple arm didn’t stand that
handling.
“Please, sir, I won’t resist… I promise…Don’t tie me…”
But the mobster’s cruel face twisted in a sick smile and the giant bound his
wrist at the table’s corner, dragging more his already flexed arm; the two men
laughing with the boy’s cries who had sunk his swollen face in the cold
surface, slippery from his tears.
He felt Chill’s hand gripping his ankle and stretching his leg to its limits. A
weak complaining moan left his lungs and the henchman laughed and tied the
ankle at the corner, following the same procedure with his other leg, spreading
him so much that he was feeling his body ready to tear in two.
Bruce didn’t understand; his limbs were stretched painfully, the ropes so tight
immersed in his flesh that he could feel blood dripping: why all these? What
they wanted from him? Why his pain made them so happy? Why they must do these
things to him, they already took everything from him? He was only a kid…
He felt behind his closed eyelids Falcone approaching him and then his hand
brushing his filthy locks, almost gently, but this ‘gentleness’ made Bruce’s
spine shiver.
“Bring it on!”
Bruce’s tied body jolted as much as his bounds permitted, when something cold
touched his stretched anus.
“No…” he yelled but it sounded like a kitten’s cry.
Something cold and tough was pocking at his opening and his heart trembled,
shaking his bones. It was something metallic, something big, really big, twice
his opening and the giant was pressing it to his flesh to make it fit. His
fingers struggled inside their bonds, but in vein; they had restrained him too
suffocating. So he just sank his nails to the wood in an attempt to forget what
was happening to him.
“Use s’me lube?’’ Chill asked frustrated “His hole ‘s too stubborn” he pressed
more the object to his entrance, its pointy edge inside but the rest too big to
follow.
“No lube” he had his fingers sank in Bruce’s hair, feeling the squirming head.
“Cut him with my knife?”
Falcone fisted the boy’s locks and made him look his stony face.
“No, his ass had to learn…”
Bruce focused his teary, terrified eyes on the mobster’s wolfish eyes; whenever
he looked his mother that way, she immediately forgot whatever mischief he had
done and hugged him to console him. But his mother was gone now, she didn’t
exist…
“No, sir, please… Don’t…’’ he wanted to say other things too but an
excruciating pain pierced his small body and he screamed, the object’s half
length entered his body, bending his muscle’s resistance, leaving tears on the
flesh.
Falcone without letting his head looked at the boy’s rear and smirked.
“Now, we’re talking. Stick it inside!”
Bruce shut his eyes, teardrops flooding his hot face, the pain dominating his
entire being, cutting his tormented by sobs breaths, as the rest of the object
found slowly its way inside him, stretching and ripping his tender flesh. He
was crying like a baby now, but not daring to look the mocking face of his
master.
Who brushed his tear soaked cheeks.
“Push it more inside or it’ll slip!” and the hostile object cold and firm
settled deeper inside his body, tearing his insides.
“Please… it’s too big…” but the words were drowned in his screams and whines.
His owner yanked his head uprooting his locks and shook him till his red eyes
locked with his full with hatred eyes.
“Tonight we celebrate, kid! Turn it on, Chill!”
He heard a screechy sound and he felt the enormous object moving inside him;
his eyes widened from terror, ready to pop out to the mobster’s fun which
enhanced as Bruce’s discomfort turned into unimaginable pain, his whimpers into
desperate cries.
The forth-back motion of the object was difficult since it was crammed in the
raw channel, resulting in taking the flesh along to its course. Falcone let
Bruce’s distorted from the screams face to fall on the table and watched
fascinated the object’s slow drilling motion. The small body covered with sweat
convulsing and writhing, begging for mercy.
“Step on it!” he laughed to the giant and he obliged.
“No! No! I beg you…” it was too much, too fast that it burned his wounded flesh
“It hurts so much… so much…” he whined “It rips me…”
“Faster…” the mobster smirked at his begging eyes.
The gashes around the object became deeper and Bruce’s heart raced as he was
feeling his stretched body tearing apart, he couldn’t breathe from the sobs and
the screams.
“Plea…’’ he struggled to whisper but everything stopped around him.
Cold water and the same unbearable pain welcomed him back, blood dripping from
his strained anus, the object stuck inside his tender muscle but not moving. He
could hear his heart struggling to escape from his ribs. The wolfish man jerked
his head.
“You know, passing out is forbidden…”
“Please, sir… I can’t… bear it… Have pity…”
 “Turn it on, Joe! He needs a good lesson…”
“No, no, no” he bit his lips as the slow torture began, its speed becoming
frantic and Bruce stopped begging because he understood that there was no
point; nobody would show mercy to him and the pain wouldn’t stop, until he was
split in two or his tormentors were satisfied by his blood and suffering.
Even his body didn’t convulse anymore and Falcone grunted in frustration.
“Give him a shot!”
He heard from a distance a swift sound and a hot, stinging feeling like
thousands little needles piercing his anus and then his spine. He squirmed like
a tied snake.
“Again!” he laughed and this time the current was more punishing.
But Bruce couldn’t raise his head, the tears and saliva flowing to the table.
“Why?” he whispered with his raspy from the screams voice to the man’s cruel,
sniggering eyes.
“Tell me yar name, boy” he winked to Chill and another current burned his
gashed muscle.
“Bruce…” he gagged in his sobs “Wayne.”
Falcone leaned upon his exhausted head.
“That’s why, kiddo” he whispered in his buzzing ear. “Yar mother an' father
made that to ya, when they made ya. Their little Prince…” he mocked.
“No… they…”
“Show him”
Chill shot him with more voltage and he cried.
The mobster swallowed his ear in his mouth and massaged it like a caramel,
Bruce’s eyes shut in surrender.
“The pain’ll stop, when ya admit that they doomed ya…” and he distanced
himself.
Bruce flexed his numb fingers.
“Say it!” the wolf roared and the boy closed his eyes, the object starting its
excruciating movement.
He dragged his drenched in sweat head in refusal on the table.
The electric current attacked his body forcing it to jolt in the air and
convulse till the creepy sound ceased and the body collapsed, Bruce rasping
weakly, his heart screaming.
“Say it, little bastard! Curse them!”
Bruce barely opened his spent eyes, the object continuing drilling his
agonizing body.
“Curse them!” he screamed and the awful sound pierced Bruce’s ears before an
even stronger current burnt him.
“I don’t know to curse!” he forced himself to spill the words quickly before
they hit him again.
“Poor little baby…” Falcone feigned sympathy taking his jaw in his large hand.
“I’ll help ya.”
He was lost for a minute from Bruce’s range of vision and returned with a large
picture of his parents with a small baby in their midst - him. A warmth filled
Bruce’s ruined body and tears surged again his eyes, sobs choking him. He
remembered how it had been before…
A heartrending yelp jerked his entire body as the strongest current until then
spiked him, the object moving frantic back and forth, twisting his insides.
“P…Plea…’’ the exhaustion numbed his lips.
“She is a bitch, a fucking bitch, a slut, a hooker: look at her an' tell her or
else” he leaned above his head “the next shot will fry ya…”
He brought the picture in front of him and glared at him impatiently. The
object was still impaling him faster than before and his rear end was sore,
gashed and bleeding; his heart was beating too fast and too heavy.
“Speak, ya little shit! Chill…”
“You are a bitch!” he exclaimed with all the despair and the terror that were
piercing his chest “a…a fucking bitch!’’ he looked shyly his tormentor and he
shook his head, urging him to go on, the boy swallowed hard “a slut and a
hooker!” he closed his eyes exhausted and his head fell on the table.
“Your daddy now” the mobster laughed satisfied. “Tell him that he is a dork, a
prick, a dick…”
Bruce’s breaths were too slow, his lips opened and his eyes shut; it was above
his strength to speak, but Falcone grabbed his wet hair and shook him
violently. He half opened his eyes.
“Speak or that stick will fuck ya till yar split in two!”
He kept his head erect and shook it, the giant increasing the speed of the
thrusts.
“No” he whispered “you… you’re a … a” he forgot what the man had said and was
punished by faster thrusts.
“A dork, a prick and a dick” Falcone reminded him soothingly and Bruce nodded
trembling, his eyes drained from tears.
“You are a dork, a prick and a dick” he said the words as fast as he wanted the
pain to stop.
But it didn’t stop and he stared at the mobster’s cold face desperately.
“Tell them that yar happy they died an' that ya piss in their graves…”
He just repeated; there was no meaning anymore, just the pain and his shattered
body and the blood and his heart that cried.
Finally, Falcone held the picture in front of his head that was supported by
the man’s vicious grip .
“Spit on them!”
He tried but he didn’t have any saliva, so he tried again, this time liquid
marring their smiles and the happy baby between them. Falcone laughed satisfied
and dropped the boy’s head; the thrusts stopped and the huge thing inside him
was pulled out, hurting more his already maimed anus.
And they just left, leaving him spread, strapped on the table, trembling unable
to coax some tears; his glassy, swollen eyes staring at the smiling faces which
seemed angry, hateful, reprimanding – branding in his brain that they’d never
forgive him…
“Bruce! Come on, Bruce! Please, wake up!”
Someone was shaking him, someone was pleading with him to wake up; someone was
pleading and it wasn’t himself. That voice although distant was so familiar, so
warm despite the agony, so beloved; it was Tony. He was again imagining Tony’s
voice to accompany him in his loneliness. He opened his tired eyes and
everything was immersed in mist.
Someone was holding him and he must escape him before he starts torturing him
again; he jerked, he twisted his still numb body but the man holding him didn’t
let go. Tried again, desperate now and the man shook him stronger.
“Bruce, it’s me, Tony! Please, look at me!’’ he made Bruce's eyes focus on his
worried, determined face and recognition shone hesitantly in his misty eyes and
he stopped writhing. “Who am I, Bruce? Tell my name!”
He raised his head and steadied his eyes.
“To-ny. You’re Tony” he answered his voice too weak and buried in his panting.
It was scary.
Tony’s hold loosened but he didn’t let him, although he breathed relieved. But
Bruce’s stampede of a heartbeat panicked him and so felt Superman who was
watching undetected by anyone from the whole wall window.
Clark had arrived, the moment Stark entered Bruce’s room obviously terrified by
the screams and pleadings of his friend. Stark’s urgent entrance stopped him
abruptly just before storming inside, smashing the bullet proof drenched in
titanium glass, taking Bruce in his arms and waking him up from the nightmare.
It was a mere nightmare that made him rush from Metropolis to Malibu. However
it was anything but ‘mere’…
The image of Bruce’s body writhing and squirming on the mattress, his locks and
face drenched in cold sweat, his features distorted in utter terror, agony and
pain was unsettling. His screams were like he was tortured right now by an
invisible tormentor and his pleadings… Those child like pleadings… they had so
much despair and weakness that his guts twisted. Goodness! Clark’s eyes were
still teary as Bruce’s eyes were… He was feeling so numb, like someone had
stabbed him with kryptonite; Bruce’s pain paralyzing him.
“I must go to the tunnels and dress… I must save some people… Some people may
be in danger…” Bruce’s panting formed some agonizing words and his body
struggled to stand.
Tony however tightened his grip to make him realize his presence again and,
indeed, his friend focused on him.
“Bruce, where are we?” he asked demanding, hiding his inner turmoil from his
friend’s condition.
He swallowed and nodded as if admitting his error.
“In Malibu…”
Tony nodded a bit relieved but Bruce’s frantic chaotic pulse returned him to
his previous panic.
“Jarvis!” he called to the corridor “call an ambulance!”
“No, Tony, no” Bruce’s hands held him desperately and his feverish eyes found
Tony’s. “It was just a nightmare and these are its side effects…”
‘Just?’ mouthed Clark.
“Just?” Tony inquired but called off his order. “Okay, I won’t call an
ambulance but I want you to listen to me and do what I say, okay, little guy?’’
and after Bruce’s nod “inhale deeply from your nose and let the air fill your
lungs…”
Bruce remembered the simple relaxation technique and did it.
“Now, exhale slowly from your mouth… very slowly…”
They repeated the same thing many times before Bruce’s heart found a relatively
normal pulse and his panting gave its place to steady despite somewhat shallow
breaths. Clark found his body copying Bruce’s vitals and even for him was
exhausting; were he in Stark’s place, he’d have grabbed Bruce and taken him to
a hospital! Who was kidding? He wouldn’t have been any better than Stark in
dismissing Bruce’s plead – order…
“Tony, I’m going to throw up…” he tried to keep his voice steady and if Clark
was a human, he’d have been fooled; but as Stark sensed, Bruce was trembling
from the nausea, his face ashen.
Tony helped him stand and supported him till the bathroom door. Bruce stopped
and looked at his friend, wet strands framing his sparkling eyes.
“I can manage from here… you don’t have to see this.”
“Cut the crap!” Tony snapped and hugged his shoulders with one arm, leading him
inside. Clark for the first time cheered for Stark.
Tony guided Bruce in front of the cubicle and helped him kneel just before
Bruce’s self control gave away and his body retched violently, the contents of
his stomach spurting inside. Tony was hugging him, steadying him as much as he
could clenching his teeth, but the strong body was convulsing again and again,
throwing up everything and when everything was out, retching again, saliva and
other transparent liquid the only thing left to be out.
Tony rubbed soothingly his friend’s quivering back.
“That’s enough, little guy” he whispered, his voice hoarse “there’s nothing
left…” he bit his lips feeling the urge to call that damn ambulance.
Clark was clenching his fists, his breathing hard and pressed as Bruce’s
torment continued.
Bruce jerked two more times, his locks falling in his eyes, the shaking and the
pain in his abdomen strong. Tony supported him to stand and flushed.
“Come on, little guy” Clark could make out that Tony was ready to erupt in sobs
but was putting on a brave face.
Bruce leaned on him yet spared his friend from the most of his weight, letting
Tony guide him in front of the sink; he avoided his reflection and Tony washed
Bruce’s soaked in sweat face.
He filled the cap of mouthwash with liquid and brought it to Bruce’s lips.
“Rinse your mouth” he obliged and Tony refilled the cap “again.”
They repeated the procedure three more times and Tony brushed his friend’s
sweaty hair.
“You need a shower, little guy” he said tenderly and cautiously made to pull
the pajama’s shirt off Bruce’s body but his friend started away from him, his
eyes darkening ominously as if he was under attack.
Tony ran his hand in his hair and sighed.
“Don’t!” it was Batman’s low, menacing voice.
“Okay, Bruce, okay; calm now…” he watched as his friend was controlling his
breathing and approached carefully “Can I put my arm around your shoulders to
assist you return to the bed?” his words were cautious, slow and carefully
chosen.
Bruce realized that he had been too aggressive, took a deep inhale and nodded,
letting Tony wrap him in his arms taking in regretfully his friend’s worried
black eyes.
Tony helped him to his bed and tried to touch him to the mattress but Bruce
resisted, his intense sapphire eyes piercing his friend’s.
“I cursed them, Tony” he snapped and Tony was puzzled, uncertain if his friend
hadn’t collapsed again.
“Who?”
He swallowed; it was so hard to confess.
“My parents. He made me curse them…”
Clark’s eyes widened and Tony’s hands caressed his friend’s locks, without
commenting to encourage Bruce to speak.
“It was when Lucius dropped his inquiry and Falcone gained the control of my
father’s company. They took me to the basement and strapped me on a table; they
had stretched me and my crippled hand hurt too much – not that this is an
excuse… Falcone had cut my clothes and I was naked; they used a metallic
object” he focused his eyes on Tony’s who struggled to remain calm and not show
his repulsion. “An object, like” he inhaled “you know, like a dildo. They had
it attached to something – machine – and they stuck that thing inside me.”
Tony noticed that his friend was speaking like all these things that made him
throw his guts out had happened to someone else. As if he was just reading a
story from a book.
“It was really big… I think twice my…my anus. And they forced my body to take
it in and I was gashed and ripped but they just turned on the machine and that
thing… was thrusting in me wounding me more. And then they shot me with
electric current through that object. And I was pleading, begging, it hurt so
much, and I was asking why and he told me that it was my name…”
Clark gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, his nails digging his
invulnerable flesh. His chest was heaving.
“He told me that if I wanted the pain to stop, I must curse them… I didn’t want
to but they were increasing the power of the current and the machine was
speeding faster – I know this isn’t excuse for my deed.” Tony just couldn’t
articulate a word. “And I did it, Tony, I cursed them, using the words he
wanted. I called my mother a slut and a bitch and a hooker and my father a dick
and – I don’t remember what else. And I said that I was happy they were killed
and that I piss in their graves and I spat on their picture… My mother took the
bullets that were for me and I called her…” his voice was cut like his breath
in his lungs.
Tony caressed gently his friend’s hair, bringing the stray strands which
shadowed his eyes back to their place. He was trying to breath calmly so to
keep his distress hidden not wanting to upset more Bruce. The lack of tears in
his eyes and the lack of emotion in his voice troubled Tony.
“How old were you, Bruce?” he asked in a low voice.
Bruce looked him puzzled and Clark held his breath.
“I… I’m not sure… Things… things were very confused… every day seemed the same
with the other… But it was after I had run away to the alley at the first
anniversary of their death… So, I guess I was nine or ten…”
Tony felt his arc reactor ripped from his chest and Clark braced himself in
order to stay afloat.
“You ran away to honor them?” Tony whispered.
“Yes, but Chill found me and…and punished me in there” his eyes were sparkling.
Tony understood how that monster punished his nine year old friend and what he
heard they did to him after some months pierced his mind like burning spades.
He took his friend’s head and buried it in his chest, so that Bruce wouldn’t
see his tears. But his chest was heaving violently with oppressed sobs and
Bruce understood and raised his eyes to Tony’s wet eyes. The older man shivered
seeing how expressionless those beautiful eyes were.
“You agree that they won’t forgive me, right? How can they? I caused their
murders, they died to protect me and then I cursed them to save my ass; what
kind of a brat does that?”
Tony’s shaking hands caressed Bruce’s cheeks and his trembling lips kissed his
forehead and Clark didn’t feel any envy for that.
“No, Bruce, no…’’ his voice sank in the depths of his throat. “I think that
they’d have begged you to curse them in order to stop your suffering…’’
He brought again Bruce’s head on his shoulder and caressed the brunette locks.
The younger man was slightly trembling but Tony didn’t feel any humid from
tears.
“Maybe… maybe it’d help if you… you let yourself…”
“I can’t cry, Tony… I think” he laughed bitterly “I drained…”
“It was that scum Luthor that brought that to you with his…” he found once
again his voice drowned by rage this time “he upset you and brought back all
these memories! My fault, my! I shouldn’t have thrown that damn party… I’m an
asshole!”
Bruce raised his head although the warmth of his friend was too comfortable to
part with but he couldn’t let him blame himself.
“No, Tony, it has nothing to do with your party. It’s not the first time…”
Tony frowned.
“All these days here you’re seeing nightmares…”
He nodded and Tony shook his head in disbelief. Clark knew that already.
“You kicked Jarvis out to not alert me every time…”
Bruce’s eyes were determined and not at all regretful. Tony couldn’t be angry
with him, not after everything he confided in him.
“Okay, okay… you must get some sleep… you need some rest.’’
But his friend shook his head in refusal.
“There’s no chance I sleep now; I’ll do some stuff.”
“No, you won’t! It’s two in the morning; you can’t stay awake…” he moved his
head, his mouth half opened. “You weren’t sleeping all these nights, at least
normally…”
“I’m not a heavy sleeper…” he tried to smile but the nightmare - flashback
still haunted him.
Tony stood from the bed.
“Tonight, you’ll sleep – stay here!”
He left the room and Bruce had the urge to disobey yet he didn’t want to hurt
more Tony; he had already burdened him with his… stuff, at least he could give
him that.
Clark was waiting, hoping that Stark indeed had a way to help Bruce get some
peaceful sleep.
Tony returned to the room and touched on the nightstand a familiar wooden box,
making Bruce look him in the eyes moved. But Tony patted his friend smiling and
brought a bottle of mineral water from the mini bar with a fine crystal glass.
He filled the glass with water and pulled out of his sweatpants’ pocket a small
vial that Bruce recognized as a medicine.
“You’ll drug me?!” his eyes widened and his posture became defensive.
Tony sat by his side on the bed, he made to caress his messy hair but Bruce
jolted.
“I don’t take drugs!” his voice was throaty and threatening.
Tony remained calm. This reaction made him consider that they had drugged him
for their entertainment.
“Leslie prescribed that when she learnt that you’d come here; she was certain
that you’ll face sleep disturbances and asked me to give you two drops of that
to help you relax and sleep. It’s why I wanted Jarvis in your bedroom” He
smiled. “It’s a mild sedative for children…”
Some of the tension left Bruce’s body and he stared at his friend.
“I’m sorry I was so aggressive to you, Tony.”
Tony opened the vial and took some liquid.
“Aggressive? You should see some of my ex’s!” he oozed two drops in the water
and offered the glass to Bruce.
He was still hesitant.
“Tony, I don’t want it; I don’t need any sleep…”
Tony widened his eyes suggestively, still offering the glass.
“For me? I won’t be able to sleep, knowing that you’re awake… and if I don’t
sleep, someone else won’t be able to sleep, too…’’ he added and winked.
“Pepper?”
“You know, a fine gentleman like me doesn’t kiss and tell… Well?”
He took the glass from Tony and downed the water with the sedatives; he lied
down and stared at Tony.
“Satisfied now?”
“I’ll stay till you fall asleep.”
Bruce felt pressed.
“Tony, I’m not a child. I’ll try to sleep; you gave me sedatives so you
shouldn’t worry. Go!”
The older man shook his head resolutely.
“No way.”
He sighed and closed his eyes. If he managed to sleep, Tony would leave without
more worries.
“I’m sorry for what you heard tonight… I shouldn’t have…”
“For once in your life stop thinking! I’m glad I was here and I’m content you
confided in me… it was about time and I hope you’ll continue!”
Clark nodded: of course, Stark was content: he was at Bruce’s side easing his
pain, while he was an outcast, condemned only to hear, unable to comfort with a
friendly touch, a friendly kiss…
Stop thinking, Tony repeated in his mind, as if it is easy… He could see his
friend’s eyes moving under their lids, his breaths hurried…
“Tony, it’s no use…” he motioned to raise himself but Tony touched him back.
He opened the wooden box and slow, sweet notes filled the room and Bruce’s
restless body and mind; his sapphire-emerald eyes were molten.
“Tony, I don’t deserve that…” he whispered, his resignation kept inside; it was
his favorite lullaby which his mother sang to him when he couldn’t sleep
otherwise. He could hear the echo of her sweet voice and her warm smile… and he
had cursed her to save himself… He didn’t deserve to be soothed by her.
“I believe that your mother would want to do that…”
Bruce let his tired eyelids rest upon his eyes; his mind traveling through his
mother’s sweetness to the days he was roaming the Manor with his tiny legs,
laughing trying to avoid his mother’s outstretched arms, a toy Star Wars’ blade
of light in his hand; he had a green blade while Martha held a red one. Alfred
was casting mock disapproving glances to the little troublemaker while baking
his favorite biscuits, the house already flooded by the irresistible smell of
cinnamon. He closed his eyes and inhaled the smell deeply, his mouth watering
and suddenly two velvet hands wrapped him;
“Gotcha! Mmmm… What am I to do with you? I know…” Her voice menacing but
giggling at the same time and the kid understood.
“No! No!” but he was giggling too and his mother tickled his little belly and
then his armpits till the boy was writhing with laughter.
“Surrender, Skywalker!” she mimicked Darth Vader’s voice.
“Never!” he answered but his defiance was lost in his giggles and Vader covered
his little face with kisses.
Tony watched avidly his friend’s face for any sign of discomfort but he was
really asleep, his lips seemed to form a carefree smile. He touched his fingers
at his neck and his pulse was that of a sleeping man. He brushed tenderly his
cheek, his eyes tender, his lips even softer as they touched his friend’s
locks.
He heard the door opening slowly, cautiously and Pepper’s hesitant face looked
inside.
“Is he alright?” she whispered and Tony gestured to her to go to the corridor
and rose slowly following her outside, living the music box open, playing its
healing melody.
She was wrapped in her silken white laced night robe; her face was worried.
“What happened?” although in the corridor she was still whispering.
“A nightmare… No, a flashback invading his sleep… I didn’t want to wake you up…
Go to sleep.”
He moved to the opposite direction but Pepper’s hand in his shoulder stopped
him.
“Where are you going?”
He looked at her with his wild eyes, he pressed his lips determined.
“To wear a new Ironman suit, go to Metropolis and blow each limb of this
monster before I kill him!”
“Tony!”
He stared at her worried eyes.
“Life imprisonment isn’t enough!’’ he clenched his fist in the air and closed
his eyes. “He was only nine, Pepper – you saw him at the pictures; he was like
a little angel, cute and sweet as a kitten and they..!” he lowered his eyes and
pressed his hair violently “He was just nine when they first raped him… and
then they defiled him even worse…” his voice was cut by angry breaths “they
used things and machines to penetrate his body… to make him curse his dead
parents… He was a little boy full of life and dreams and they erased
everything, leaving only pain and darkness!”
Pepper cupped his face in her hands, her eyes were teary.
“I’m sorry, Tony…”
“And what he told me was only one night of his life, only a few hours from his
suffering; only one night of 6570 days and nights, only a few hours from 157680
hours of abuse… Only one rape…”
“I know, it’s so unfair to Bruce, it’s awful, but if you get mad and start
killing, you won’t help him: you’ll sank him in despair. Think what’s best for
him: he lost everything but now he has you again – do you want to take that
away from him? Again? Bruce didn’t want his tormentors dead or he’d have done
it himself. Neither wants his best friend ruined for these bastards! Please,
Tony, calm down…” she kissed him gently on the lips and took his hand in hers
coaxing him to follow her.
“There’s no chance I let him go to Gotham, like this!”
She shook her head.
“You know you can’t thwart him… And there’s Alfred and Leslie to take care of
him.”
“Yes, but I won’t be there! I can’t let him once again be taken from me…”
“He won’t, Tony…” she whispered softly in his ear.
Clark stood outside the huge window watching his Star sleeping, counting the
inhales and exhales heaving his enticing chest, counting even the heartbeats,
even his brain activity to be reassured that he was sleeping. The sweet melody
was soothing his mind, too, blending the pictures of the eight year old Bruce
with the adult who was sleeping.
The sleep caressing his artistically chiseled features, giving them an
enchanting quality; children like innocence. His rosy lips were half opened
forming a gentle smile, the warm air leaving graciously his chest, envious of
the new air that would reside inside this man. How he wanted to kiss feathery
these lips and then his long thick eyelashes as were brushing his high
cheekbones. He was safe now in his sleep, away from the harsh reality even for
a couple of hours… In the healing embrace of oblivion…
He moved in his sleep and brought his body in fetal position, his arms
protectively around his chest… His locks were still wet, stray strands framing
his eyes.
Superman’s heart was ripped in shreds and he realized that his cheeks were
soaked. From tears. He accelerated upwards… Up and up and up… until the Earth
was a soundless mesmerizing blue, green and white mass… How such beauty can be
the heaven of such cruelty?
He replayed Bruce’s narration; the young man’s detached voice rending his guts
more than if he was crying. He was sure that his Star hid the details, not
wanting to disgust his friend… What kind of man inflicts such tortures to an
innocent child who had already lost everything? Now he understood why Bruce
said that he was impaired; certainly, all these wounded his sensitive small
body…
He remembered his dream and let his self mocking laugh free; Bruce would never
ask Clark to touch him, never… It was just too much after all these…
He felt so powerless… What’s the meaning of being almost a God, if you can’t
change the past to save an innocent, to heal and give hope to a tortured being,
to make things right again?
He screamed, he screamed with all his might, with all the power of his
superhuman lungs; in space nobody could hear him… So he screamed more, pouring
all his despair because everything he craved for would remain only jeering
reality-like dreams, pouring all his powerless rage for the things he couldn’t
mend, all his frustration for being a useless powerful alien…
***** Chapter 8 *****
Fury entered the pass code to the small square pad camouflaged under a brick on
the wall of a dirty, common alley and showed his only eye to the retina
recognition system. A long hiss opened the weathered, indistinguishable wall in
two, permitting him to jump inside, before sliding to close again.
He had boarded a civilian flight right after his encounter with both Stark and
Wayne and after some hours of rest – actually, he never needed more than six
hours of sleep – returned to the hidden central of S.H.I.E.L.D, dressed in his
casual long coat. Although the official director, he had to report his progress
to the others and be updated for the latest global developments; if, of course,
news didn’t get there first. As was the case with one Mr. Luthor.
A dubious character, always wanting to be a full time villain but hiding behind
his billions, posing as an innocent – as if there is something like this in
their world -, lurking for the best opportunity to defeat Superman and be the
undisputed ruler. Superman… Fury couldn’t enlist him because he had a
privileged access to the President of the US – or maybe the President had a
privileged access to Superman, he wasn’t sure, which was the best way to
describe it. So, S.H.I.E.L.D. was of no use in his case.
As he was browsing the major news sites during his flight, the aspiring super-
villain’s face was highlighted together with the melancholic beautiful face of
Mr. Bruce Wayne; a new scandal shaking America’s elite and burning the
comments’ sector. The video was revealing, another success for Miss Lane.
Luthor probably intoxicated – or not – harassed Bruce Wayne during Stark’s
party. But the most entertaining part of the video was the end: the young man
was cornered in the rail, Luthor’s protruding lips were on his cheek and hands
in his buttocks, and then the cringed youth kneed the CEO of LEXCORP right on
the balls, causing the man’s yell and sending him feet away from him, cupping
his groin.
Fury laughed aloud, when he first saw it, causing the startled stares of his
half-asleep co-travelers. Luthor chose the wrong kitten to play… Poor Wayne was
trying so hard to cover his true self but it seems that everyone was conspiring
to force him drop his mask.
Walking in their headquarters through the huge hall covered with whole wall
screens projecting live coverage from different countries from every corner of
the planet, he saw the same video replaying in two screens, entertaining the
late shift agents. He thought to reprimand them – agents of the S.H.I.E.L.D.
should be solemn after all, but he didn’t do it; it’d be unfair, since he was
also entertained by the same video…
Only the desk of Maria Hill was serious, the young agent reading avidly
something in the desk’s PC. Obviously, what she read didn’t make it to the huge
screens.
He approached, towering the sat young woman who raised immediately her eyes to
him.
“Good morning, Director Fury; how was your meeting with Ironman?”
He waved his hand.
“I guess fine; the man is stubborn and unfazed by anything but he agreed to co-
operate with S.H.I.E.L.D., financing and supporting technologically our
activities.”
He was trying to read the screen’s text but except from the frame that was of a
news site, he couldn’t discern the letters – damn, liquid crystals and damn,
one eye vision!
Agent Hill smirked.
“Your favorite vigilante reappeared…”
Fury frowned, the wrinkles around his lost eye more eminent.
“Batman? Where?”
The young woman looked him curiously.
“In Gotham, of course. Where else?”
Fury lopsided, his mouth half opened in disbelief.
“Impossible!” he muttered to himself.
“Because Bruce Wayne is at Malibu?” her eyes sparkled.
Agent Hill was his confidant and knew his theory, although she never let out if
she agreed or not. She turned the screen to an angle that he could see and
played the video; it was a security camera’s footage, filled with snows, from a
small store in Gotham, showing a giant black shape with ‘wings’ on a stone
gargoyle watching briefly the street and as if sensing the camera swiftly
disappearing in the cloudy grim sky. The video’s time read 3 AM.
“Wayne was at Stark’s party…” Fury said low, scrutinizing the video. “There’s a
video from last night’s party showing him kicking Luthor’s ass…”
The dark haired woman immediately leaned on the screen.
“What time was the video from the party captured?”
“Approximately 12 AM.” His eye was half closed in scrutiny.
“The video from Gotham is captured at 3 AM, three hours later; with Stark’s
technology he could have made the distance…”
But Fury shook his head in dismissal, his hand rubbing his jaw, his hands
folded at his chest.
“No. With the time difference, the two footages coincide… It can’t be…”
The young woman shrugged.
“Maybe Bruce Wayne isn’t Batman, after all. He’s been through a lot to have the
courage to face criminals every night.”
Fury pressed his lips, making them protrude, he gave the impression that he
wasn’t hearing her at all, his gaze focused on the whole wall screen showing
Luthor slumped on the granite surface.
“Oh! The kid is a tough case…” he smiled broadly “more difficult than I thought
but so fascinating as I expected.”
Agent Hill looked him seriously.
“I think it’s best to search for a different alternative. Bruce Wayne can’t be
in two places at the same time and if Bruce Wayne was Batman, then why not
escaping Falcone’s clutches three years ago, when the vigilante made his first
appearance? He was all the time guarded or locked or at Falcone’s bed so he
couldn’t possibly roam Gotham beating criminals. He couldn’t save himself, how
could he save other people? Agent Fury?”
He was in deep thought but hearing simultaneously.
“Send an agent to Gotham for investigating the footage” he snapped, his lips
pressed and turned swiftly, his long coat’s hem flapping the air.
 
His body felt light and pleasantly numb, his mind empty except for seagulls’
cries and sea waves from a distance. Underneath him something so soft and cozy
like he was floating on a fluffy cloud. He didn’t want to leave that heavenly
feeling but he should put his mind at work: there were so many things waiting –
no, demanding - his attention, he had no time to lose. And behind his eyelids
something golden and warm was calling him soothingly.
He opened hesitantly his eyes and the cheering sun of Malibu saluted him on a
cloudless, clear blue sky, the sparkling sea expanding endlessly to the
horizon, charming his eyes, through the whole wall window which was so discreet
that you had the impression that you were floating in this scenery.
 The sun was high enough so he had overslept. He yawned and stretched his
hands.
“Good morning, Sunshine!” Tony’s cheery voice welcomed him.
His friend was sitting on a chair right by his bed and despite his carefree
voice his eyes upon him were covered with a shadow of worry. He turned his gaze
at the stand and saw the music box, his lid shut. So, it wasn’t just a dream;
the music was true.
“Don’t tell me that you brought me breakfast in bed?” he teased Tony, wanting
to kick the worry from his friend’s eyes, the events of the previous night
slowly returning.
Tony didn’t need more prompt. He laughed and shook his head disbelievingly.
“Nah! Breakfast in bed comes only after sex and usually I am the recipient.”
Bruce pouted frowning in thought.
“Funny. I thought that after sex you were the recipient of slaps…”
 “Don’t listen to the red head defamer…” he became sober. “How are you
feeling?”
Bruce took his wrist watch from the nightstand and looked the rectangular black
display.
“Like someone who’s been sedated for… eight hours! For pity’s sake, Tony, you
said that it was for children!” he jolted in sitting position.
“Your organism is virgin” he took in the tiny twinge in Bruce’s eyes at the use
of that word and he nodded. “Yes, virgin” he repeated pointedly. “And you
needed it.”
Bruce stood from the mattress and immediately fell to the tiled floor to hoist
rapidly his body on his palms, continuing with a stampede of push-ups, under
Tony’s impressed gaze who whistled.
“I should be happy then… that you didn’t sedate me for three days…”
Tony lifted his eyebrow.
“Now that’s a nice idea! Well, Rocky, do your morning workout and come for
breakfast – my ego can’t stand the spectacle…”
Bruce laughed and watched his friend walking out overstretching his height in
dignity.
Truth be told, Bruce felt an urge to hide in the shadows and run back to Gotham
after everything that happened last night. It was difficult to admit it to
himself but he didn’t want to face Tony after what he had confessed to him, he
was… afraid and he hated it. However, here it had so much sunshine, so much
light that a creature of the night like him was exposed without any shadows to
retreat to and Tony had caught him before he even opened an eyelid, so escape
was impossible.
He sighed. At least, his friend didn’t start inquiring more about the
nightmare. Maybe he’d be spared of questions and they would have a last day
unmarred by unimportant things. He knew that it was too much to hope; Tony
believed, as everyone else, that if he spoke about those years, it would
magically heal him… No cross that! No heal; he was already healed, he freed
himself, he is fighting criminals and they were afraid of him. So, no heal:
they believed that speaking would change the past. As if…
He strolled to the kitchen his hair still wet, after a dreamlike shower – he
would tell Alfred to buy such a hydromassage cabin for the Manor. He was
dressed in plain jeans and a blue-black T-shirt.
He saw Tony leaned upon his red – gold tablet, smiling widely; his eyes were
sparkling.
“Wicked!” he exclaimed without realizing that Bruce was there.
“What’s ‘wicked’?” Bruce asked sliding in the stool beside Tony, making him
jolt surprised, hardly avoiding falling to the floor.
“Damn ninja training!” he snapped, glaring at Bruce’s amused expression. “Don’t
do that to your friends!”
Bruce snorted and took a cupcake.
“Ironman must learn to avoid such intrusions; you’re lucky you have me for
training!”
Tony rolled his eyes.
“I’m lucky I have you but not if you cause my death from heart attack… Your
milk, Bruce… Lee.”
Bruce cast him a sideways glance.
“He wasn’t a ninja…”
“Fuck off, smart ass!”
Bruce erupted in lighthearted laughter: he wanted the day to be like this! Tony
abandoned his mock offended expression and smiled, his friend’s laughter
relaxing him.
Bruce took the huge glass of milk, showed it off to Tony and drank it, closing
his nose with his fingers.  He left the empty glass on the bench and Tony gave
him a caramel wrapped in shiny paper.
“Good boy!”
Bruce took the caramel and shoved it to his jeans’ pocket.
“Well, what was so wicked? The shares of Stark Industries rising? That reminds
me that I’m the awful President of a drowning company!
Tony sipped his espresso and shook his head.
“Oh! You are a nice President; you made your company’s shares rise without even
moving your finger… Hehe! You moved something else… The kick you gave to
Luthor’s dick was an upwards kick to your company and another blow to LEXCORP’s
groin: his shares dropped. Harassment and cupping your smashed balls aren’t the
best things for an arrogant tycoon.”
“Really?’’ Bruce touched his glass with orange juice on the table.
“It seems that the markets interpret the incident as an indication of your
leadership, your intention and willingness to kick the asses of some giants who
want to swallow you. A dynamic new air blows at Wayne Enterprises, as a
stockbroker said to Pepper. Oh! I wish Lois had captured my right crochet,
too…”
“You always want to steal the show…” he smiled. “Finally, some good news! You
didn’t tell me what was the wicked.”
Tony turned his tablet to his direction; the screen was covered by the security
camera’s footage of the Batman. Tony winked.
“What’s this?”
“Are you sure your house is bug - proof?” he winked.
Tony looked affronted and opened wide his arms.
“Please, buddy; you’re talking to Tony Stark!”
Bruce shrugged.
“Don’t tell me…” he goggled awed “I didn’t have an idea!” He changed into
serious mode. “It’s a hologram; Lucius’ doing. Fury is sure that I’m Batman, so
I need to create some doubts. At least…”
Tony frowned.
“Holograms can be easily distinguished. This ‘organization’ of his surely would
have the technology to discover it.”
“Lucius has perfected holograms into making them almost indistinguishable from
the real thing – and especially, from a security camera of a small shop. They
won’t be able to tell and perhaps I get rid of Fury, even for a while.”
Tony grimaced and scratched his hair.
“Won’t be easier if you admit that you are Batman? You kept your identity
secret because the city was under Falcone’s control but now that law is once
again in the city, you can identify yourself and help them…” Bruce shook his
head in refusal. “I can’t be thinking of you fighting bad guys and police
shooting at you, as if you are one of them.”
“I can’t do that, Tony.”
“Why? You don’t trust Fury? He can provide coverage for Batman. I know, he is
arrogant, idiot, selfish, a smart ass, but I think he really means good.”
Bruce frowned and Tony had the impression that his eyes turned to the Batman’s
lenses.
“I don’t trust anyone that seeks to gather ‘superheroes’ so to guide them to
missions. Who is this Fury, after all? What is this S.H.I.E.L.D. and what do we
know about it? How can we give them so much power without knowing who are its
directors?”
Tony drummed his fingers on the granite bench, his head lowered in thought.
“Fury is second in command in S.H.I.E.L.D. and the government knows every
detail about him. I mean, he was in every major conflict the country had, he
was in FBI and CIA; federal government has thorough files on him.”
Bruce crossed his arms in his chest; his eyes were filled with disbelief.
“Exactly. He is the best display for an at least shadowy gang. But beyond Fury,
who else do we know?”
“Maybe they want to keep their identities secret, as you do” he pierced his
friend with his gaze. “Maybe that’s the reason you don’t trust them, because
you’re so much alike…”
Bruce shook his head in disbelief.
“I work alone and I’m not recruiting a powerful army of superheroes, using
blackmail and threats, keeping their identities and who knows what else
confidential information as leverage against them. And unlike them I’m the only
responsible for my deeds, in their case those superheroes will be responsible
if something goes awry. I tell you, Tony, I don’t like it at all and especially
that you found yourself delved into this…”
Tony’s gaze was unreadable.
“It’s better that I’m in, I can search things from inside, since you have
doubts about them. But, Bruce, you don’t trust them because they keep their
identities secret and control things from the shadows which is exactly what
you’re doing…” he commented solemnly and lifted an inquiringly eyebrow. “How
you expect people to trust you?”
Bruce pinned him with a piercing stare.
“I’m doing what it needs to be done: I don’t want them to trust me. That’s my
safety belt if I turn bad…”
Tony nodded and touched his hand in his friend’s shoulder.
“You don’t trust yourself yet you trust him so much as to not take the
Kryptonite…”
“I don’t want the power to destroy Superman and being tempted to become what I
hate…”
“And if he…”
Bruce rolled his eyes and jolted his head exasperated.
“He won’t! After everything you heard last night, you still believe that anyone
could want me?!”
Tony bit his lips and held the side of his friend’s neck, bringing his eyes
right in front of Bruce’s eyes.
“After what I heard last night, I believe that you deserve to be loved more
than anyone else. About last night…”
Bruce cupped Tony’s hand on his neck.
“No, Tony, let’s not say anything else about that; last night I told you more
than I should have…”
“I know that you said just a hair: how you survived that? I mean such torment
must have wounded your small body too much…” it was difficult to find the
proper way to articulate his question.
“The next morning, Chill took me to their doctor, the same who had removed the
bullets from my arm. He stitched me up and gave me some antibiotics – they
wanted me alive…”
“I assume he knew who you were.”
Bruce smiled.
“Of course. He was jeering me during his treatment: it seems that my maimed
rear was a very funny spectacle…”
“Oh! Mr. Wayne, you seemed to have a terrific night! That little ass… You’re so
soft, little Prince…”
Tony cleared his throat.
“I don’t remember any doctor in the list of defendants.”
“He died some years ago from a stray bullet during a ‘dogfight’ between thugs.”
Tony lifted his eyebrow.
“Looks like there’s deviant justice, after all… Your experiences with that man
make you so hesitant to go to a doctor?”
Tony felt his friend’s body tense and removed his palm from his neck.
“Doctors examined me for the trial…” he answered defiantly.
The older man looked him lopsided.
“You know that I don’t mean that.”
He took a deep breath.
“You mean seeing a therapist to be normal again, like normal people do, I know”
Tony lowered a bit his gaze, hearing again his own words from Bruce’s voice
made his inappropriateness even uglier. “Let’s face it, Tony: I’m not normal; I
was raised – no – trained by them to not be a normal human being. And the thing
is that I don’t know if being normal again matters to me anymore. You see,
sometimes I crave to be normal like I were when I was a child and some others I
know that’s a lost battle and the only thing I want is to be left alone to beat
criminals and save people from a fate like Bruce Wayne’s…”
Tony swallowed hard and coughed dryly.
“You’re not alone, Bruce, and you’ll never be again; we won’t abandon you” he
raised his eyes “and despite what those scums did to you, you’re more normal
than most people I know – even myself” he laughed and Bruce did the same. “You
deserve to live happily and that’s why I’m talking about you seeing someone…”
Bruce jumped from the stool and Tony closed his eyes sighing.
“My security system barely caught something last night around 2 o’ clock in the
morning” he decided to drop the issue for the time being, since he had his own
purposes.
The younger man turned his interested eyes on him.
“What was it?”
“Not sure. It was outside the range of the surveillance system’s analysis and
in the air… at the side where your room is…”
“Maybe birds? Do you have any scanners of body indicators?”
Tony raised his eyebrows sarcastic.
“I wouldn’t have known my job, if I didn’t have. But the indicators are messy;
not a bird not a man… It seems” he exhaled, looking at Bruce pointedly “a UFO…”
The younger man turned his back and filled his mug with coffee from the
machine. Bruce didn’t want Tony to see his troubled expression and the drops of
sweat in his forehead; this was what the last night’s fiasco lacked: Clark
overhearing…
“It is better that you don’t drink any coffee…” Tony said nonchalant.
“What?” Bruce turned, his eyes widened; something was off…
“My cardiologist waits us and coffee may affect the examination…” he answered
indifferently without leaving from his gaze his tablet screen.
Bruce slumped on the stool beside Tony.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
Tony turned, looked at him indifferently and shook his head in denial.
“No, no jokes with your health – and I already hear your heart starting
beating, relax.”
Bruce ran his hand in his locks.
“All because of a nightmare? You didn’t have a nightmare in your life? Everyone
gets a raised heartbeat seeing a nightmare… It’s normal!”
Tony’s expression was a total not buying.
“No, what I heard last night had nothing normal. Yes, I saw some nightmares in
my life but my heart wasn’t crushing my ribs nor beating completely crazily…
Malibu doesn’t have shadows for you, so we’ll go.”
Bruce rubbed his forehead.
“Give me a break, Tony. Tonight I’m returning to Gotham and there I’ll have
Leslie cornering me all the time and then Alfred… Why we can’t enjoy our last
day without” he gestured “all these?”
Tony stood and held his friend’s shoulders, looking him in the eyes.
“Don’t remind me that you’re leaving…” he sighed at the prospect. “Calm down,
Bruce; he is a fine, very polite doctor – you know how much I cherish good
manners, no scratch that! And then we’ll have the entire day to enjoy
ourselves. I don’t deserve a small favor?” he blinked his eyes and pouted his
lips like a puppy begging for a biscuit, and his younger friend smiled.
 
Luthor’s mood was cloudy not as the sky in Metropolis but in Gotham. Damn that
Lane! How she managed to capture that unfortunate moment? And now the US and
the planet were laughing at him! His PR people suggested they counter attack,
using their TV stations and newspapers but he fired them immediately; they were
idiots! How to counter attack when there was a video, especially when that
video was aired right after the incident? Who suicidal man would say something
bad for Bruce Wayne when the video showed Luthor harassing him? After all, he
had everyone’s sympathy those days… Wayne and that Lane had checkmated him in
the first game!
And LEXCORP’s shares’ fall proved that: even a cold field as the markets
reacted to his failure. If not for morality’s sake – there’s no morality in
markets – for his ridicule and Wayne’s dynamism that sent Wayne Enterprises’
exhausted shares to increase their value. He couldn’t believe it! He boosted
the company he wanted to smash, striking its fragile owner. Watching the video,
even he had to admit to himself that Wayne was impressive in contrast to his
lamentable slumped form. No, counter attack would make things worse; retreat
was the best choice and wait, like a cobra.
Wait and avoid the jeering pack of journalists that like vultures smelling
blood surrounded his limousine as soon as his jet landed in Metropolis, even
though he purposefully delayed his arrival till the noon so to disperse his
pursuers; and then the same at LEXCORP’s skyscraper. He gritted his teeth: they
wanted to coax a statement from him before he had time to prepare. And those
idiots in Public Relations were useless! Firing them was the best thing.
Mercy was the most efficient person in his servitude. She managed to maneuver
the annoying lot and bring him to the skyscraper’s underground parking without
any inconvenience and he rushed to the elevator, buttoning his jacket, feeling
his face red. Damage control.
Damn! In his rage, he stepped to the public elevator which meant that he had to
walk the endless corridor to his office, while the private elevator would have
brought him right inside his office.
He resisted the urge to kick his employees who said ‘good morning’ to him with
lowered eyes for him to not see the sneer in their eyes. Suddenly, a large,
clumsy mass blocked his path. His eyes first took in the ugly, disgustingly
cheap jacket and immediately it dawned to him. Kent! How he managed to reach
the top floor?
He looked the reporter in the face and was dumbfounded. The man was his usual
stupid self, yet he was different. His glasses were slightly lowered in his
nose, revealing two steely, stern, intelligent eyes, shining with an inner
fire. His lips were pressed in a tight line, making his entire face look like
made of stone. Kent, that idiot, was… angry?
“How you made it up here? Guar…”
“Relax, Mr. Luthor” here’s the familiar moronic voice but still something was
lurking underneath “I just wanted a statement about that incident at Mr.
Stark’s last night party; I thought that you deserve to have your version of
things said…”
He shoved his recording smart phone to the billionaire’s mouth. Luthor smiled.
“It was a huge misunderstanding: I made a compliment to Mr. Wayne and he jolted
like he was shot by an electric current” he noticed a twinge at Kent’s face at
the last two words. “You know how rape victims are” laughed “they see
everywhere possible rapists: the poor young man has to undergo some treatment.”
“The video shows you clearly kissing and touching Mr. Wayne forcibly” and the
moronic voice is gone.
“Forcibly? Kissing and touching?” he overacted his amusement. “I was
intoxicated – I don’t know what drinks Stark gives to his guests – and I lost
my balance…” now that was lamentable even to his own ears and he saw Kent
smirking but with… hatred?
“Mr. Wayne had to hit you to avoid you.”
“I told you, victims shudder too easily, resulting in hurting innocent people.
I was intoxicated that’s the reason his blow had so much impact on me; he was
unable to discern my condition and control his paranoid reaction so he hurt me.
However, I don’t plan pressing charges against him” he raised his eyebrows in
mock sympathy that struggled to change his cold eyes “I was so shocked from
what that poor soul suffered – I could suggest to him a good therapist.”
“Your own therapist?’’ Kent’s sarcasm was plain.
“I think that the interview is over; if you’ll excuse me…”
He motioned to pass Clark.
“Of course, Mr. Luthor” he stuttered.
The enormous, clumsy reporter made to open the path for Luthor but instead
blocked his way, Luthor tried to bypass him but the stupid man attempted the
same thing, blocking him again and on his clumsy effort to clear the path,
Luthor felt the reporter’s foot between his and lost his balance falling to the
floor with a thud. His employees hurried to lift him and Kent turned to leave.
“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Luthor” he stammered “it seems that I’m a bit
intoxicated…”
Clark smirked and jumped to the opening elevator.
 
Obadiah Stane entered his modest office at San Francisco. He wanted a spacious,
luxurious office but for the time being he would limit his aspirations in that
place and focus his activity and budget in more crucial things. His corporation
was still petty in comparison with LEXCORP or Stark Industries or even Wayne
Enterprises, but his works were following an ascending course, permitting him
to smile and maintain his plans. After all, Stark Industries were his, the name
only a fraud; Starks had fooled him but he’d take his blood back, eventually.
At the moment, he let himself smile with Luthor’s laughingstock, his overgrown
mustache and beard giving him the look of a sneering Santa.
But the smile froze when he saw that his office was occupied.
A raven haired young woman clad in skin tight black pants and knee-length boots
sat at his small couch, a giant in height and broad man with his face covered
with black silk stood beside her, his enormous hands crossed at his chest. His
‘guests’ were looking at his direction.
He stormed to them with angry strides; his thick eyebrows frowned on his bald
head. He didn’t think of calling the guards, although his shady activities and
associates should intimidate him at strangers’ presence in his office.
“Who are you?” he demanded “And how you came here?”
The beautiful young woman, her neck half-hidden by her black turtleneck
cashmere blouse, smiled seductively, gesturing to her – definitely – bodyguard
to relax his aggressive stance.
“Good morning, Mr. Stane. Is this the way you welcome your potential
benefactors?”
“Benefactors?” the man’s eyes shone with rage. “Are you insane, lady?”
The giant grabbed him from the lapels of his jacket without even catching a
glimpse of the motion. The young woman stood with a lazy movement and came to
him. She was 6’ tall with a body slim and curvy like a snake and Obadiah
frightened by the man’s hold realized that her eyes were that of a snake, too.
“Mr. Stane, there’s no need for such rudeness. I came to offer you what you
want and you offend me” she shook her head in disapproval. “Let him!”
The giant instantly obeyed and Obadiah straightened his abused lapels, looking
at him irritated.
“Talia Al Ghul” she introduced herself offering her long hand.
Stane took it halfhearted under the giant’s threatening glare and Talia smiled
amused.
“I think that it is more appropriate if we discuss what I offer seated.”
The businessman gestured reluctantly to the armchair in front of his desk and
sat at his chair behind the desk; he noticed that the man remained standing,
glaring at him warningly. The bald man rolled his eyes and took in the ease
with which the young woman crossed her long legs and smiled at him, as if they
were at a gala.
“Are you from East?” he asked, her accent too evident for a man like him who
had many deals with people from that part of the planet.
“Of course, a man with your… ‘activities’ would distinguish easily my accent.
However, my descent is rather complicated, Mr. Stane, and is of no interest to
you in comparison with the reason I’m here.”
Her full red lips didn’t smirk, just reflected the seriousness in her dark
eyes.
“And what’s that reason?”
“I know that your company…”
“Corporation!” he corrected her irritated because there was nothing more
annoying to Stane than minimizing his corporation.
Her eyes flickered with sarcasm.
“I wouldn’t characterize a bunch of small companies scraping by with what the
giants leave and smuggling weapons to various terrorist groups… a corporation.
Perhaps, in your wildest dreams… or if we help you out.”
Stane pull out of his jacket pocket a handkerchief and swept the sweat from his
forehead. The bitch!
“You. Help. Me! And what exactly are you other than an insulting bitch!”
The giant was agitated and ready to attack him but the woman just smiled and
with a soft movement of her fingers calmed the man. He wasn’t a bodyguard, he
was a dog, Stane thought, but the woman was definitely powerful.
“I am your good angel, Mr. Stane” she dragged her words.
“More a devil!” he stared pointedly at her long straight raven hair.
Talia laughed.
“Devil was an angel before his fall; but you’re not wrong about that, there’s
something of a certain Demon in me” she commented reminiscently. “What matters
to you is that I can give you power and satisfaction…”
The man seemed puzzled.
“Satisfaction?”
“Howard Stark threw you out of Stark Industries although you had devoted your
efforts and intelligence to their blossom. He excommunicated you because he
knew that those companies belonged to you more than to him; he was afraid of
your abilities, so he doomed you to be buried in mediocre businesses being
constantly the obstacle to your ascending” Exactly! Stane thought, at last,
someone agree to that… “And now his son, as arrogant as his father, attacked
your clients, making them unhappy and suspicious about your trustworthiness as
a provider, jeopardizing the present and the future of your” she laughed
“corporation and your own safety – these… “clients” are too irritable and
vindictive.”
Her glistening, cold eyes pierced him and read his surprise on how well
informed she was. She nodded.
“I also know that they know you were the smuggler’’ she paused, enjoying the
panicked gaze of the man and him mouthing they “You want back what is yours,
Mr. Stane, right?” her voice was filled with understanding “So do we. For that,
I propose you collaborate with us, promising that you’ll get more than you
imagine.”
“Wait! Wait! Wait!” he snapped confused. “They?”
Talia leaned on the back of the armchair like a queen, her self confidence
radiating.
“Stark wouldn’t have discovered so quickly the buyers of the weapons you
smuggled, if he hadn’t had help. And be sure, Mr. Stane, they’ll be watching
you closely, waiting a tiny misstep to send you in jail; you’ll be an easy prey
if you don’t use our help. And if you deal with us, Stark Industries and
revenge will be yours…”
Stane was an entrepreneur with experience; people don’t offer you so much
without taking anything.
“So much for me… and for you what?” he lifted an eyebrow.
“The satisfaction of restoring the balance.”
Now was Stane’s turn to laugh.
“Little lady, cut the bullshits! I’m in this field almost forty years and I
don’t swallow horseshit! If you want a deal, you’ll show your cards!”
Talia’s smile vanished and she crossed her fingers in front of her beautiful
but frozen face.
“We lost something that belongs to us and when all this ends, we’ll take it
back.”
Stane leaned on his desk towards her.
“Who are you?”
“The League of Shadows”
The man felt an icy stream running his spine and backed to his chair, his face
pale. In his long experience in the deep underground of the eastern parts of
the world he had heard about these people and their power and activities; even
the cruelest criminals were afraid of them.
“I don’t think that the League of Shadows needs someone like me” he stammered –
he wanted revenge on Stark but these people caused him terror “you can smash
Stark yourself…”
“We want you to do it; divide and conquer, Mr. Stane. You’ll take care of Stark
and we’ll get what was taken from us.”
“And what is it that you want back?”
She didn’t want to answer but he continued to look at her insistendly.
“Bruce Wayne”
Stane laughed.
“Falcone’s toy? The almighty League of Shadows plotting against a poor kid?”
Talia uncrossed her legs and stood, straightening her body.
“That poor kid killed my father and orchestrated a near fatal blow to the
League. The poor kidalso found the buyers of the load of weapons you bought
from PART Ltd just before Stark gained the control, and who the trader was,
that means you, and now the poor kid is definitely organizing with Stark your
destruction!”
Stane was speechless, his shallow breath echoing in the room.
“You can triumph with us or being devastated alone: your choice.”
“Stark has the Ironman now… He is invincible.” he mumbled.
Talia half smiled.
“Don’t worry about that; that won’t be a problem.”
 
***** Chapter 9 *****
The low humming sound of the flying jet’s engines was relaxing but he was tense
– of course, there was no chance he would sleep during the journey, although
the oblivion sleep offers was tempting. Tony’s private jet was more than
comfortable and it was immediately out of discussion his friend would let him
return to Gotham with a scheduled flight. So he left Malibu the same way he had
come, with Tony’s private jet, since he didn’t want to use the plane Falcone
had… It wouldn't be long before he landed in Gotham but he still had Malibu in
his mind, well not exactly Malibu, but Tony and Pepper.
Since he was to travel with a private jet, they had more hours available to
spend at Malibu. So after they took Pepper from the Stark building, they went
to enjoy splendid coffee with a view to the ocean and then a royal meal at the
roof garden of a seaside hotel; their evening began with bowling and ended in a
very pleasant, quite cozy piano bar where Pepper had the chance to continue
teaching him to dance; till, of course, ‘the veteran’ intervened to take his
teacher. Although their day was full and devoted to having fun without
strangers among them, the departure was difficult.
Standing a few feet before the jet which had already its engines working, he
was feeling glued to the ground. Pepper hugged him and kissed his cheek.
“Be careful, okay?’’ she laughed “And keep on kicking their asses!”
“You’ll take care of my outrageous friend?” he answered and she nodded smiling,
her eyes a little watery.
“Plotting till the last moment against the innocent! Little guy, you’re
impossible!”
“You asked for it, ‘veteran’…” he mocked him, smiling broadly to cover his
sadness for parting from him.
And Tony’s solemnity was heartrending.
“Always, Bruce! I’ll be in touch every day: you won’t get rid of me so easily
and I’ll learn everything from Alfred so mind your attitude!” he shook his
finger threateningly.
“Who’s plotting now?”
But Tony dragged him swiftly in his hug and tightened his grip.
“I’ll come visit as soon as possible… Promise me you won’t get lost again…”
Oh, Tony…
“I promise.”
Tony grabbed the back of his neck and brought Bruce’s forehead to touch his
own, their eyes locked saying an ocean of things that couldn’t be told with
words… And then Tony removed his hand, knowing that it was time.
He stopped at the jet’s flight of steps and turned his head, his hand waving.
“If you ever get sick of that shithole, remember that Malibu and Tony are
waiting…” his friend yelled to be heard through the engines’ roaring.
He nodded smiling and got inside but even seated at the luxurious cabin of the
jet his eyes were cast to his friends who continued to stare at the jet’s
window till the plane was a spot in the air.
He was content that he was returning at last in Gotham because so many
responsibilities were waiting for him and he had many things to do and he’ll
see Alfred again, but on the other hand, he felt a painful gap in his heart:
the three weeks he lived with his best friend too wonderful to part easily
with. Yet he couldn’t continue this forever, could he? He wished he could; that
void in his friendship with Tony too big to be covered in three weeks, if ever…
He looked at the screen of his notebook Tony and himself eighteen years younger
smiling: he asked from Tony to make a digital copy of that photo, because he
doubted if Falcone’s fury had left any picture the Wayne family held. His
friend wanted to give him also the music box that Bruce had gifted to him after
their quarrel that last Christmas, since its music was helping him so much to
relax. But Bruce refused; it was a gift, a token of his love and friendship to
Tony and a gift can’t be taken back…
He let his gaze wonder to the white clouds surrounding the jet through the dark
blue sky, expecting to see a red-gold figure floating upon the wing. Nothing
was on the sky; Bruce sighed.
Tony wasn’t happy that he was left outside of his cardiologist’s examination
room, but Dr. Spencer was adamant and Bruce was grateful for that.
“Mr. Wayne, I can detect some tension” he smiled politely “I imagine that it is
difficult but, please, try to calm down.”
“Last night I took some sedatives so maybe we should leave it for another
time…”
“Mr. Stark informed me about that but the particular sedative is so mild that
it won’t influence the examination.”
He took a deep breath and just followed the doctor’s instructions.
And it was a thorough examination; he was thinking Tony waiting all this time
at the hall. It was uneasy for him yet both Dr. Spencer and the nurse were very
supportive and relaxing – not to mention that the examination didn’t involve
parts of his body that made him uncomfortable as the coroner’s examination did.
Finally, Dr. Spencer let him dress and waited him at his office with the
electrocardiogram’s and cardiac stress test’s results. His expression was mild
and soothing.
“Mr. Stark will be thrilled to know that your heart is strong and healthy,
considering the circumstances” he said, realizing that his patient had no
intention to ask.
“Could you tell him that so he doesn’t worry and…”
“Overprotecting you?” he smiled understanding. “I’ll tell him whatever you want
me to divulge from your tests results; but I don’t blame him for being
overprotective and wanting you to have the best medical care.”
Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes and as if Dr. Spencer understood ,
leaned towards him, his face warm but serious.
“Mr. Wayne, your heart doesn’t manifest signs of a malfunction, but we can’t
ignore how severely your heart reacts to your flashbacks.”
Bruce shook his head and gestured to the air.
“Tony exaggerates…”
The doctor intertwined his fingers on the table and pressed his lips.
“I wish he did… But the thing is that these nightmares/flashbacks are
exhausting your heart and your heart is already too spent from constant
physical and psychological hardships. Thus, I think it is for your benefit if
you seek a specialist’s assistance in handling those returning flashes of your
experiences, before they damage a heart of remarkable stamina.” Dr. Spencer’s
eyes shone with sympathy behind his round shaped glasses.
Bruce motioned to stood and the kind doctor followed his movement.
“Mr. Wayne, what these people did to you doesn’t belittle you. On the contrary,
you’re an admirable young man and we just want to thwart these people from
continuing harming you. Remember that a great burden becomes lighter and more
bearable when shared…”
Bruce inhaled heavily.
“I’ve already told too much; I don’t want people digging my soul. I want at
least my soul to remain mine…” his soul was his haven, the only place the
other’s couldn’t find him all this years, although battered.
Dr. Spencer lowered his eyes and nodded.
“Tell me that you’ll consider it or, at least, that you’ll speak to your loved
ones about what you feel…”
“I… Thank you for your concern, doctor; it means a lot…”
At least, Tony was relieved. His heart was strong and healthy, just
overreacting at reliving the past: whose heart wouldn’t react like this to such
things? Ugh! He wished people stopped pressing him to speak about all these
things… Now that he’d have so much work to do his sleep would be so scarce and
exhausted that nightmares wouldn’t make it to him – after all, they were just
nightmares… He rubbed his forehead and scrolled the screen to peruse the news
from Gotham.
“The struggle for Gotham’s City Hall rages; Anthony Garcia blows Armand Krol’s
arguments in the second debate.”
“FBI hands Gotham’s guard to GCPD; temporary Commissionaire Gordon recruited
personally the new members of GCPD, reassures citizens that the city will never
fall to illegality again.”
He nodded: Batman would make sure of that.
He sipped his orange juice and opened the encrypted files he had in his
notebook; Gotham’s wannabe rulers of the underworld. Chechen, Maroni, Gambol
their pictures right above the thick text about each of them. These were the
names of the more important players: each one was entrusted with a sector of
the city during Falcone’s reign and was obliged to refer to Gotham’s Emperor
and give him a huge percentage of the money. Those low profiled mobsters were
fuming for years about Falcone’s exploitation but didn’t dare to move to
overthrow him, since he had the backup of the police and the League of Shadows.
Chechen directed the drugs’ trade, Gambol the prostitution and human
trafficking, and Maroni the smuggling of guns and the ‘protection’ of shops and
nightclubs; at the peak of the pyramid was the big boss, Falcone.
As Falcone’s toy, he had seen them many times not in the daylight giving their
regards to Falcone; Gotham’s Emperor despite his power kept the pretences. Of
course, none of them paid Bruce any attention except for the expected for a
decorative object but he was hearing carefully for both Ra’s Al Ghul’s
servitude and his own purposes.
Police didn’t arrest them even once since they were good employees for the big
boss and during the events of the previous month they kept an even lower
profile, certainly planning their next move, after the FBI and the Special
Forces retreated from Gotham. The main question was: they’ll keep the existing
order of things or start a war for the kingship? He must gain more information
about their intentions and their moves; and that wasn’t something fit to
Batman…
He ran his hands in his hair, his mind already racing. The dark colors of the
night slowly began to retreat to lighter tones: dawn was coming. The
tranquility of his days with Tony ended…
A small pop in his screen notified him that he had a new message. Tony.
“I knew you wouldn’t be sleeping… I already miss you…”
“Don’t speak like that… Pepper will be jealous…”
“Pepper misses you, too… Maybe I should be jealous?????”
Bruce smiled.
“No, you’re the Veteran, after all…”
“Any UFO appearance during your flight?”
“No! Have a good time, you and Pepper…”
“Hug Alfred from me and try to get some sleep till Gotham…”
“I will.”
The small chat ended. He entered the address of the Daily Planet site and saw
himself and Luthor still taking the prominent spot with the infamous video
underneath, comments having reached a crazy number. In the related articles,
his eyes were caught by Clark Kent’s name: “Lex Luthor blames it to alcohol,
Wayne’s overreaction” by Clark Kent.
“The CEO of the entrepreneurial giant LEXCORP obviously upset about the
publicity his unfortunate  last night 's  moment has taken stated that the
whole incident was the result of a ‘misunderstanding’.
Mr. Lex Luthor, 34, outside his luxurious office in LEXCORP’s skyscraper put
the blame for the claimed harassment to ‘intoxication’ and Mr. Wayne’s
hypersensitivity.
“It was a huge misunderstanding: I made a compliment to Mr. Wayne and he jolted
like he was shot by an electric current. You know how rape victims are, they
see everywhere possible rapists: the poor young man has to undergo some
treatment.”
As for the gestures the video shows him clearly doing, Mr. Luthor explained
that they were the results of him losing his balance…
“I was intoxicated – I don’t know what drinks Stark gives to his guests – and I
lost my balance…”
Last but not least, the tycoon laid the responsibility for the extent the
incident took to Mr. Wayne who, as he said, overreacted due to his childhood
trauma and hurt him, clearing however that he has no intention on pressing
charges against the man for hitting him.
“I told you, victims shudder too easily, resulting in hurting innocent people.
I was intoxicated that’s the reason his blow had so much impact on me; he was
unable to discern my condition and control his paranoid reaction so he hurt me.
However, I don’t plan pressing charges against him.” 
You can hear Lex Luthor’s statements here.
Bruce lifted his eyebrows. Wow! First, Falcone claiming that he provoked him in
sexual activities and now Luthor blaming him for uncalled-for assault. He shook
his head in disbelief and laughed. Perhaps, he should feel enraged or insulted,
but the only thing he found inside him was amusement. He was sure that Luthor
would regret his statements when sobered up; his allegations were at least
lamentable and more embarrassing for him, and Luthor as a cunning man would
realize that.
He stretched on the too convenient chair and yawned although he wasn’t sleepy.
From the round small window gazed at the first pink-gold colors in the horizon
and his city shaping slowly, a small thick spot among the blue-black menacing
Atlantic, as the plane began its descending.
“Mr. Wayne, please fasten your seatbelt” the young hostess that kept her
presence quite discreet during the flight smiled to him. “We’ll land in Gotham
in a few minutes; dress warm, your city is still under winter’s bounds.”
He smiled back and fastened his seatbelt, his eyes on the island-city and her
buildings hoisting between the water channels. Sun’s first golden rays –
deceiving about their actual warmth - were giving her an aura of beauty and
peace that Bruce wished was true. That the buildings were indeed light and warm
and not grim and cold, the streets glistening and not filthy and the people
enjoying the morning sunshine carefree and not fretting the day that was
beginning.
The jet landed smoothly on the jetport’s lane and Bruce was relieved to see
that only one familiar car was waiting for him, its owner stood in front of the
driver’s door gazing at the plane with anticipation. Alfred! With the
chauffer’s hat and leather gloves.
He felt the same eagerness as he was sure his butler was feeling yet he walked
to the cockpit to thank Tony’s pilot – Happy – for the pleasant trip and to
wish him a nice trip back to Malibu. Then he returned to the cabin to gather
his notebook and his sole suitcase. The hostess happily helped him and he shook
her hand thanking her before descending the stairs.
He covered the space between the lane and Alfred’s Rolls Royce too fast, before
his loyal friend could come to him to help him with his luggage. He dropped his
suitcase and laid the handbag with his notebook on the ground and hugged Alfred
who for an instance tensed from the unusual warmth of the gesture but then
tightened his grip on the young man.
“What that Anthony Stark did to you to be so ecstatic to see me?” he inquired
with his characteristic cool demeanor to the young man’s head on his shoulder.
Bruce laughed light hearted and raised his head to see Alfred’s solemn face
which was cracked by the old man’s emotion, his blue eyes smiling at the young
man’s laughter.
“I missed you so much, Alfred! Next time you’ll come, too…”
“I missed you, too, Master Wayne, but there were so many things to be done.”
“And Tony told me to hug you…”
“So that unique outburst of pathos was you channeling Master Anthony’s
temperament?”
“No. That is…” and tightening his grip on the man’s wrist hoisted him from the
ground for a few seconds and then landed him gently, smiling with his eyes
sparkling.
‘My child’ Alfred thought but stopped his hand from brushing his brunette locks
and flushed cheeks. Instead, he patted his young master’s strong biceps.
“How are you feeling, sir?”
Bruce swallowed. Tony informed Alfred about the nightmare or it was a casual
question.
“Fine, Alfred.”
The kind butler nodded and didn’t insist. He took the only suitcase and put it
in the trunk. Then opened the back door for his young master and after Bruce
stepped in, he closed the door and took his place behind the wheel.
“It’s a good thing you decided to return so early in the morning; that will
spare you from all these barbarians roaring for a statement. Even in vacations
you were quite proactive, if I may say so…”
“Reactive, Alfred, just reactive” Bruce commented from the depths of the soft
leather backseat and Alfred nodded, smiling.
The young man directed his gaze to the waking Gotham, her streets still almost
empty and calm. Pleasant warmth flooded him; despite the pain and despair he
experienced inside her borders, he still loved the city and the people.
“To the Manor, sir?” Alfred asked looking at Bruce’s reflection in the car’s
small mirror.
“No, Alfred, although I’m excited to see the changes you did, Wayne Tower is my
first priority.”
“May I remind you that it is rather early and that you just disembarked from a
three hours flight?”
“I neglected too much Wayne Enterprises and I’m afraid that even those who
supported me will reconsider…”
Alfred lifted slightly one eyebrow.
“After yesterday’s rapid rise of the shares? I doubt it, sir. It seems that you
make correct business movements even when they aren’t… quite business
movements…” he half smiled.
“It was an instinctive reaction…” he looked absentminded the morning mist over
the streets – some hard workers were already on the streets and Bruce
remembered all these years that he was waking up so early to do his chores.
“Alfred, why am I attracting such behaviors?”
The old butler pressed his lips, hearing the melancholy in that young voice.
“It’s not your fault, sir. Please, remember that…”
Bruce nodded faintly but didn’t distance his eyes from the city. A huge
billboard with the familiar smiling face of Jack Napier made him sick in his
stomach. It was announcing that the ‘Prince of Hollywood’ – Bruce rolled his
eyes – was coming to Gotham to make people smile; his performances would take
place at the Opera House. Such a decadence for that beautiful theater!
As the Rolls was strolling the streets, more billboards caught his eye: the two
candidates for the Mayor’s chair were advertising themselves and their dreams
for the city. Bruce lifted an eyebrow.
“It’d be better if they agreed to share the responsibilities due to the crucial
moments the city had than divide people like this…”
“Oh, Master Wayne, I wish more people considered the city’s wellbeing as you
do…Dear God!” Alfred suddenly exclaimed and turned into a corner avoiding the
front of the Wayne Tower.
The young man immediately saw what his butler saw first and felt disappointed:
he wouldn’t be able to see the huge white-platinum ‘W’ on the building’s front,
replacing that horrible golden ‘F’. The pavement and the street before the
Tower’s entrance was crammed with journalists carrying huge or smaller
microphones, photographers with monster cameras shooting pictures of the
building and video cameras ready to roll. All of them had a hungry look in
their faces, as if they were famished hyenas, waiting their prey. Good thing
Alfred noticed them soon enough avoiding being located.
He sighed. It seems that someone from Gotham’s control tower alerted them that
Tony Stark’s private jet landed and Bruce Wayne was heading to the Midtown. He
should apologize to Commissionair Gordon for the riot, although wasn’t his
fault.
Alfred brought the car unnoticed to Wayne Tower’s underground parking, almost
empty since it was too early for the most employees.
Bruce stepped out of the car before Alfred could open the door for him and the
loyal man stared at him disapprovingly.
“What? Can’t we abandon formalities when in private?”
Alfred shook his head.
“I should remind you that your attire isn’t the most appropriate for the
President of a multinational corporation.”
Bruce stared at himself; he didn’t wear a tailor’s suit yet his black leather
jacket, black jeans and cashmere sweater were decent enough. However, Alfred’s
lifted eyebrow met immediately his ascending eyes, the butler’s insistence
clear in his face.
“I have a suit in my suitcase; I’ll change at my office…” he attempted to
appease his butler who however seemed outraged.
“A wrinkled suit?”
The young man felt his face redden at the disapproval in Alfred’s voice as if
he had suggested the most inappropriate thing. Alfred took pity on him.
“It’s a fortunate thing there are few people in the building. I shall fetch you
some fresh DECENT clothes to change – until then, I expect you to stay inside
your office.”
“I promise” he smiled.
Hurried footsteps made both of them turn to the direction of the elevators.
Bruce relaxed and gestured to Alfred that everything was fine.
“Welcome, Mr. Wayne!” it was Mr. Petrou the former Falcone thug whom Batman
saved and Bruce vouched for him, preventing his imprisonment.
The man was honestly beaming to see his employer again and Bruce immediately
shook hands with him.
“Now, that I see you are in good hands, Master Wayne, I can take care of your
attire.”
The proud man entered the car and left. Mr. Petrou looked puzzled at his boss’
clothes.
“What’s wrong with your clothes? They look fine…”
“Not for Alfred, Mr. Petrou” he smiled fondly. “Never for Alfred…”
They moved to the two elevators, a white-platinum big ‘W’ smiling at him
between them.
“Want me to carry the handbag for you, Mr. Wayne?” the man asked eager to be
useful.
“No, Mr. Petrou, thank you. I’m completely depend on you to guide me to my
office.” He frowned thoughtful “If there is one, of course…”
The good man called the elevator and smiled to his employer’s doubt.
“Of course, there is. Mr. Fox took good care of this; it is at the thirty-
ninth floor, right at the center of the Tower, the same office your father
used.”
He sensed Bruce’s emotion and the smile faded from his face but the young man
smiled again even though somewhat restricted.
“I remember his office; it was very cozy…” stepped inside the elevator and Mr.
Petrou followed. “How is your son, Mr. Petrou?”
The man’s eyes shone with pride, as he pressed the button to the thirty- ninth
floor.
“He works hard for Falcone’s trial – it’s a matter of hours for the verdict -
and Gotham’s current issues. We didn’t have enough time to catch up – maybe
when he moves in Gotham. But still it’d be difficult…” a shadow of regret
covered the man’s wrinkled, polite face.
“Why?”
“I don’t want people connect the new DA with a former thug… I don’t want to
cause problems to his career now that he is going upwards…”
Bruce looked the man saddened but determined.
“This is unfair; you’ve been through a lot and finally you’re together. Such
things shouldn’t keep you apart… I think that all these should count in favor
of the both of you.”
The man looked him in the eyes and sighed.
“People aren’t as good and kind as you, Mr. Wayne” he smiled melancholic.
“What’s important is that we settled things – thanks to you – and we can be
again father and son, even secretly.”
Bruce nodded yet he still considered it unfair.
The artificial female voice announced that they had reached their destination
and the doors opened smoothly. Mr. Petrou with a slight bow let the young man
exit the elevator and guided him to the floor. On the space between the two
elevators again the same big white-platinum ‘W’ caught Bruce’s eyes.
The corridor was spacious and decorated in one side by the view of the
neighboring buildings through the bullet proof whole wall windows; the natural
day light was reflected in the glass in a way that the building didn’t need any
technical lighting during the day. Bruce was glued, admiring his city from
above; the transparency of the glass giving him the feeling of floating, of
flying; he had missed that feeling so much...
Mr. Petrou at his side smiled and Bruce realized that he was acting like a
child, so he gestured to the man to continue.
The spacious corridor on the concrete wall side had a huge built-in screen
showing footage from Gotham’s most famous sights. At the end of the hall, in
front of him, stood a modern, made of glass and steel desk upon which lay a
really slim, flat PC screen, a sleek black telephone and various things
relevant to a desk’s organization. Behind the desk a modern metallic-leather
chair waited its occupant and opposing it a black couch made of leather seemed
very comfortable for the people who would be waiting, an oval shaped glass
table carried some magazines to entertain the waiting.
“Your secretary, Cynthia Philips, hasn’t come yet; you took us by surprise.”
“MY secretary?” Bruce asked and immediately realized that it was stupid but the
awed kid inside him beat his reason.
But Mr. Petrou smiled warmly.
“The secretary of the President of Wayne Enterprises!”
The man said it in such a way as if he was referring to the President of the
US, but Bruce was happy to realize that for this man he was valued higher than
the American President.
Bruce made two hesitant steps on the thick light brown carpet and stood before
the huge wooden door; it was completely different from the stupidly pompous
door to Falcone’s office. This was plain and had his name written with black
simple letters in a metallic platinum sign; he brushed the letters cautiously
with his fingers.
Mr. Petrou opened the door for him and Bruce stayed agape for a couple of
seconds trying to swallow his emotion.
***** Chapter 10 *****
The huge office was exactly as he remembered it, from the soft, light-brown
carpeted floor to the same color walls to the simple wooden desk.
Upon entering the office, your eyes were captivated by Gotham’s sky, since the
wall facing the door was made of crystal clear glass and the direction where it
looked had no other skyscraper. At the left corner of the wall sat the big
rectangular wooden desk that he’d recognize everywhere; he had seen countless
time his father sitting there, struggling with paperwork.
“If you don’t need me anything else, I’ll return to my post; for whatever you
want, press the button with the number two on your desk’s phone and ask for
me.”
“Thank you for everything, Mr. Petrou.”
“I did nothing, sir. Have a great day!”
Mr. Petrou left and Bruce thought that his intention was to let his boss admire
his office without intruding eyes. He inhaled deeply that particularly pleasant
odor of the freshly painted and constructed place.
Bruce moved slowly to his – HIS! – office. The room was enormous. On his right,
a huge –approximately 42’’-, plasma TV was built-in the light brown wall,
surrounded by a leather brown corner sofa with a sphere shaped glass and steel
low table in the front; under the screen near the sofa was a wooden mini bar
with various bottles, a bizarre but impressive device that Bruce guessed it was
a modern coffee machine and behind the glass display glistening crystal glasses
on the marble small shelves. At the far end of the same wall, where the window
ended, opposing his desk stood the rectangular modern fireplace in a niche
covered with decorative stones.
He looked at the left wall and saw a bizarre sound system from which only the
neon lighted moving screen was visible; like the TV neither that had any
buttons. On the same wall, a large framed painting of the 19th century Gotham
was hanging.
 He moved to the desk, left his handbag and stroked the ergonomic, tall leather
chair. Upon the desk, a cordless large super slim computer screen with the
company’s ‘W’ on the back and a shining keyboard with a black mouse waited for
him to use them. On the other end, lay the same black sleek phone he had seen
at his secretary’s office and between them several items that add to a desk –
on a wooden small table at his left was laid a miraculously small printer,
sleek black as the rest of the PC set. But what caught Bruce’s eyes immediately
was the silver framed picture. He took it reverently in his hand.
His parents smiling at a pouting in his mother’s arms frowning baby… So, Alfred
had managed to save a few things. He left the picture gently in its place.
He sat at the chair and tried to relax. It was overwhelming; he was the
President now and he didn’t have the knowledge of how to administer a company.
But neither his father knew anything, he was a doctor.
“Good morning, Mr. Wayne” a cheery polite voice entered the room and Bruce met
Lucius Fox’s brilliant smile. “How were your vacations?”
He was holding a thick parcel and the young man wondered what that was.
“I had a wonderful time, Lucius, thank you.”
Lucius approached the desk, casting glances to the room.
“I hope you like it: I tried to reconstruct your father’s office with some
modern touch. Of course, we can change whatever you don’t like.”
“Lucius, you made an awesome work! Even in my wildest dreams, I wouldn’t
imagine something like this. Thank you! But it must have taken a lot of money
to be made and the current situation…”
Lucius’ smile became broader and he waved his hand.
“Don’t worry: the entire work was solely Wayne Enterprises’ doing so we didn’t
spend a lot – besides, selling Falcone’s items brought some profit to the
company. And it was my pleasure, Mr. Wayne! I always had a secret unfulfilled
dream of becoming an interior designer. Oh! Here” he pressed his palm on the
left wall and a door opened “is the bathroom: not as luxurious as in the Manor
but it suffices. And remind me to show you the security system of the office.”
“Have a seat, Lucius” he gestured to one of the two brown leather armchairs
facing his desk.
The older man cast him a satisfied smile that glowered at his lively eyes.
“And this is for you” he laid on the desk the parcel he was holding and sat. “I
think that the room could use some extra heat…” he clapped once and red-golden
sparkles began dancing in the fireplace, stealing for an instant Bruce’s eyes
and his nose, since a mesmerizing smell of pine wood flooded the space.
Lucius looked affectionately the young man opening carefully but eagerly the
parcel.
Bruce took in his hand a small card: it had his photo on it, his name and his
data. His identification card…
“Congratulations, Mr. Wayne, now you’re officially again among the living!”
Lucius laughed. “Wayne Enterprises’ legal department took care of these during
your absence.”
Bruce smiled and looked the rest of the papers: passport, insurance and some
thick written papers that he wasn’t sure but they seemed like titles of
ownership. He raised his eyes and stared at Lucius.
“Are these…?”
Lucius nodded.
“Yes. While you were at Malibu, the State decided that since you’re the heir of
Thomas Wayne and the circumstances under which Falcone snatched the Wayne
fortune were illicit, you are the rightful owner of the entire Wayne Estate,
including the Manor, and the entire real estate your father owned, except from
the few buildings Falcone sold. The bank accounts are still blocked due to
FBI’s research but that’ll be over in a couple of days when the government will
confiscate the amount of money gained from felonies and the rest will be
granted to you. And” he pulled out of his jacket’s inner pocket a check book
“you can’t move around without this’’ he handed it to him “for the time being
it is financed by the bank account with your mother’s money, as the credit
cards you’ll find at the bottom.”
Bruce sat in his chair, although all these official papers were more than
satisfactory, he had other worries.
“My long absence created a bad impression, eh?”
Lucius waved his hand nonchalant.
“You know how these things are: haters will hate. But the important thing is
that you managed to give a boost to Wayne Enterprises’ shares, so whatever
grudge is dispersed by that. Besides every employee has the right to a leave,
as Mr. Fredericks put it.”
“He is very supportive” sighed. “Lucius, I was thinking that we must direct
Wayne Enterprises to new fields that Falcone not even considered. Of course,
weapon manufacturing is out of discussion.”
Lucius lifted an eyebrow.
“Dagget and some others will pose some resistance; weapon legal and… illegal
trading was bringing huge profits to the company…”
“But in the long term brought the company at the edge of the cliff…” Bruce’s
eyes were determined and the older man nodded, smiling. “Besides, we control
the board; I don’t think Mr. Fredericks approved of these activities.”
Lucius shook his head in denial.
“No, he didn’t; he and I were loyal to the decency your family established for
the company.”
“On the other hand, minus Dagget, I believe that the other gainsayers will
change their stance, when the company will begin a profitable course in fields
more prestigious and less shady and dangerous.”
“Such as…”
Bruce mulled it a bit more in his mind and then focused his intense eyes to
Lucius.
“Tony and I discussed the possibilities of creating artificial body parts which
using technology similar to that of the Arc Reactor will be as normal as
possible, and expand it even in the cases where a neurological damage forbids
full functionality, replacing the lost abilities with the Reactor’s technology
in the brain.”
“As in neurological syndromes like Parkinson… Sounds interesting… Convenient
since Wayne Enterprises – and without wanting to brag – myself have proceeded
in the creation of almost perfectly fitting body parts.”
The younger man nodded.
“I’m sure that you two will make wonders!”
“How you came with that idea?”
Bruce smirked.
“When you spend your days for six years with a dead arm hanging from your
shoulder aching all the time, this is your wildest dream.”
“I’ll fix an appointment with Mr. Stark to exchange knowledge and form a
working plan and a scientists’ team. Your idea is quite intriguing.”
“Thank you, Lucius.”
“Now I must return to Research and Development, but first some explaining: in
the top drawer of your desk you’ll find a list with the building’s inner
communication numbers, second, from now on, your office’s door will open only
with your finger prints on the pad at the side of the door, hidden under the
‘W’. Thirdly, as I have shown you your bathroom’s door reveals itself only by
touch. And fourth, TV and sound system work with vocal orders: open, close,
station, volume etc. Ah! Your office uses recessed lighting and turns on and
off with vocal order.” He rose. “I think your secretary is here: she can help
you with whatever question you have or you can call me.”
He registered him amused.
“I like your attire…”
“I wish Alfred agreed…” he sighed.
Lucius laughed and turned to leave, but Bruce stood abruptly.
“Lucius…”
He stopped and stared at him interested.
“Yes, Mr. Wayne?”
Bruce bit his lips in uneasiness and looked his trustee in the eyes, a puppy
sparkle in his sapphire-emerald irises.
“I wonder if you have any… books about business administration you can lend
me.”
“Gladly, Mr. Wayne.”
Sometime after Lucius left, Alfred brought him a perfectly pressed brown
stripped suit with a shirt with the color of creme, dark brown tie and brown
shoes, informing him that Gotham’s police managed to disperse the crowd of
journalists on the front of the Tower; they had created a major traffic
problem.
Alfred left relieved after inspecting his young master’s new attire and taking
the reassurance that only Lucius had seen him with the previous clothes.
Bruce began feeling like a true President when the first pack of documents for
signing was brought to him by his secretary, a middle aged woman with sturdy,
stern posture and a smart, pleasant face that easily turned into formidable,
boosted by her square glasses and high bun.
She was very competent and was answering all his ignorant questions, explaining
the details patiently and willingly – Lucius chose right. Yet she seemed
surprised and impressed by his extent knowledge about Wayne Enterprises.
Cynthia left with the documents signed and Bruce’s agitation ebbed. That
Cynthia was a female Alfred or a second Leslie.
His intercom beeped and Cynthia informed him that Dr. Leslie Thompkins was
there. Speaking of the devil… He bit his lip; don’t let Leslie hear that… He
told Cynthia to bring her in but he frowned. Leslie at the Wayne Tower was at
least odd.
Cynthia led Leslie inside and Bruce rushed to her, shaking her hand cordially.
“Good morning, Leslie, how are you? Please, have a seat.”
Bruce thought that the sofa was more appropriate to discuss with Leslie who
knew him since he was a child. She sat and he did the same.
“I’m fine.”
With that Cynthia left leaving them alone.
“May I offer you something, Leslie? I might not know yet how this… coffee
machine works but I can ask Ms. Philips.”
“No, Bruce, thank you.”
 “Not that I’m not pleased to see you, Leslie, but I know how busy you are in
the clinic, so you could have called me and I’d have come.”
“Hmm…” she frowned in disbelief. “I went to the Manor first but Alfred told me
that you came immediately here.”
“Is that bad?” Bruce asked raising his eyebrows.
Leslie was too serious and that wasn’t good.
“How are you feeling, Bruce?”
Right… Tony informed Alfred, Alfred informed Leslie and the conspirators’ gang
tightened the loop around him.
“Tony told you about the nightmare” he rubbed his forehead, a headache slowly
forming.
“Nightmare-flashback.”
“Whatever… It was only a nightmare and I succumbed to him and went to his
cardiologist and he reassured him that my heart is fine. I can show you the
results from the various tests…”
Leslie however wasn’t satisfied, her face the familiar stern-concerned mixture,
her wise eyes looking him above her glasses.
“You need to do some examinations.”
“More examinations?” he exasperated. “Leslie, I was examined for the court and
then by Tony’s cardiologist.”
“The coroner’s examination focused on finding evidence not on your health. And
the cardiologist is a start but not enough.”
Bruce felt pressed and restrained himself from rolling his eyes, something that
knew that irritated Leslie.
“And what will be enough?”
Leslie pierced him with her strong and determined eyes.
“CTscan, blood and urine analysis, examination by dermatologist, urologist,
gastroenterologist, neurologist, ophthalmologist, dentist, orthopedic,
rheumatologist.”
Bruce felt a wave of panic slowly rising inside him: so many doctors, so many
hands on him.
“Wait! You’re kidding me, right?”
Her face gathered the sum of her solemnity and her eyes were invincible.
“And we have your vaccination to consider; I don’t think that Falcone took any
care for your immunization…”
“No” he shook his head “he had more ‘important’ things in his mind. But Ra’s”
he took in Leslie’s questioning gaze “the man who somewhat made my life more
bearable, had his doctors treat me.”
“What they gave you?” she asked rhetorical with her eyebrow raised in
disbelief.
Bruce smiled shyly. The image of himself lying completely naked on a raised
cushion with two awkward looking men examining every corner of his body and
Ra’s cupping his jaw in his palm, trying to sooth him, invaded his mind.
“They didn’t exactly account to me for their actions, but I’m sure that Ra’s
wouldn’t have done something to risk my health.”
“I don’t think that they vaccinated you?” Leslie’s voice was slightly raised, a
sign of her controlled irritation.
“No. They definitely weren’t fans of the western medicine…”
He remembered how Ra’s opened his resisting mouth, permitting his doctors to
pour some bizarre liquids with strange taste in. Then forcing his mouth to shut
in order to swallow, although his gag reflection reacted strongly.
Leslie shook her head.
“Now we have to figure out what these men gave you…” and noticing Bruce’s
absentminded gaze “This man, Ra’s, was molesting you, too?”
Bruce jolted at the word. He saw again the lion-like man leaning upon him,
after the doctors left, and capturing his small lips in his mature ones,
tasting them greedily with eyes closed from pleasure.
“I was old enough…” he snapped.
Leslie was seeing perfectly clear that Bruce was still attached to one of his
molesters, the most wicked of all who treated the desperate child with mock
kindness in order to make him his slave and unwilling to admit the abuse.
“How old were you?” she asked calmly.
“I think fourteen…” and seeing Leslie’s eyes hardening “he was good at the
beginning, he showed me kindness and healed my hand; he gave me good food,
cleaned me and talked Falcone into making my life a little better.”
“Still you were too young and certainly not of consent age – not that any of
them ever asked you! That man was also an abuser, maybe the worst of them!”
Bruce looked her in the eyes.
“I don’t say otherwise, Leslie. I know he was a horrible person that took
advantage of me, like the others did, but really he treated me nicely… at
first. And when… when he… touched me, he cared to make me feel…”
Leslie tried hard to not widen her eyes; that man really was evil. He was
molesting a child, trying at the same time to make him feel pleasure so that
the rape became something confused, resulting in emotions of guilt for the
child and acquittal for the assailant. Oh, Bruce!
“I’m not justifying him” he said as if he had read her mind. “He was taking
advantage of me and my need to have a person taking care of me, but he hurt me
too much and almost killed me, in the end. But I’m just stating the facts…”
Leslie nodded. Bruce was admirable which made her appeal more urgent.
“Bruce, you must take those examinations. We must be sure that you’re perfectly
health and there’s nothing that could threaten your new life. You were for
almost your entire life malnourished and during the most crucial years of your
development; you were living under the worst hygiene conditions; you were never
vaccinated; and, the worst, you were abused physically and sexually with every
sick way came to their minds: they could have infected you…” she hated to
remind him but there was no other way.
Bruce closed his eyes and sighed. Rose from the sofa and walked to the enormous
window facing Gotham’s skyline; he ran his fingers in his hair. Leslie came to
stand beside him, her wrinkled hand on his shoulder.
“Why you don’t let me move on? Why you make me return there? Why you don’t
allow me continue my life without all these? Do you think that I’m denying my
past? I’m not! How can I? A month ago Falcone was still fucking me!”
Leslie pressed her lips, her saddened eyes on his eyes, despite their height
gap.
“I know you are in peace with your past and I know that you are moving on with
your life in the most remarkable way and for that reason I don’t want a
disease, the possible damage from malnourishment, or something else, destroy
everything you accomplished. I want to make sure that there is nothing ominous
in your organism and if there is to fight it in the beginning…” her voice was
low but determined.
Bruce looked her and she thought that was seeing the little boy who was coming
to the clinic with his father.
“You’ve already analyzed my blood and you didn’t find anything…”
“Blood analysis doesn’t cover everything; we need to analyze samples from your
urine, your other bodily fluids and examine the different systems of your
organism. What you’ve been through had an impact to every aspect of yourself.”
Bruce looked at the sky resolutely.
“All these require several hours…”
“Actually, a day or two” Leslie answered unfazed.
The young man stared at her shocked.
“A day or two? I don’t have that time, Leslie. I was already absent for three
weeks!”
She shrugged.
“So two days won’t make a big difference… And you can come to the clinic during
the weekend: thanks to Tony’s generosity, the clinic now is fully equipped with
personnel and diagnostic devices.”
Leslie doesn’t understand, Bruce thought, there’s not only the company…
“If you were here early in the morning, you’d have seen hoards of journalists,
pestering people because of me. Imagine what will happen, if Bruce Wayne goes
to a clinic for examinations… Imagine the headlines guessing what disease I’m
carrying; imagine the nuisance to your patients…”
“You’re just trying to evade it…” the doctor stated sternly. “If it was your
father asking you to undergo all these examinations, would you have reacted the
same?”
Bruce’s eyes shone angrily.
“Leslie, don’t do that!”
She cupped his cheek.
“Thomas and Martha wanted the best for you; they would have insisted on you to
be examined thoroughly so that nothing would threaten your life again… I’m
trying to do what they would have done, although I know that I’m not the same…”
Bruce kissed her palm.
“I know how much you care and I appreciate it… And I…I love you, too.”
Leslie’s always strong eyes quivered and Bruce thought that saw some tears.
“Promise me that you’ll come, Bruce.”
He bit his lip.
“I…I’ll try…”
Leslie lifted her eyebrow.
“When you don’t promise something, you’re not willing to do it.’’ Her face
became stern. “Alright, young man; if you don’t come with your own volition,
I’ll have Alfred sedate you; imagine what the headlines will be when an
unconscious Bruce Wayne is admitted to the clinic!”
Bruce looked at her shocked.
“You’re sly!”
She smirked.
“I survive at the Narrows since before you were born. Slyness is only one of my
Narrows-proof abilities…”
She stretched and kissed him softly on the cheek. She had to return to the
clinic so he accompanied her to the elevator.
“I wrote some vitamins and other supplements to Alfred but I want to have a
clear view about what nutrients your organism lacks… So, Bruce, please, come to
the clinic” Leslie told him as the elevator’s doors slowly closed.
He just smiled, before the doors completely shut and turned to his office.
However, a very intense piercing pain flooded his mind and hardly stopped any
signs of discomfort to manifest at his face. Instead, he smiled to his
secretary’s intrigued stare. His face must have lost some of its color.
“Mr. Wayne, are you alright?” the woman asked concerned.
“Fine, just fine, Ms. Philips.”
But as soon as he entered the haven of the office, collapsed to the sofa, only
to grimace in extreme pain and lay instead on his stomach to avoid aggrevating
the aching area.
His bottom ached without a reason; it was as if someone had just spiked him
with something enormous. He gritted his teeth and moved his hand hesitantly to
his rear but the fabric wasn’t wet. The pain was only in his mind, he pointed
out to himself, probably due to the discussion he just had with Leslie – but,
fuck!, it was so real, as if the object had drilled him and now left his
opening gaping. Breath, he reminded himself, breath slowly and deeply and it’ll
pass… But the stinging in his sensitive area became stronger and more violent
and his heart began beating scared.
“I see the Prince has woken…”
A sneering voice invaded the space and he tried to get up, but with panic
realized that he was bound too tightly, spread to his limits. He wanted to
scream but he remembered the woman outside – it’s only a flashback, relax and
it’ll go away, he tried to console himself only to find his eyes teary.
“Sleepin’ nice?” he sniggered and went to the back of the table. “Holly shit!
That’s huge: ya won’t have any problem with yar asshol' anymore…”
He untied him but he couldn’t move to ease his aching limbs.
“Com’ on, kid!” he fisted his cold hair and pushed him to collapse on the
floor.
His exhausted battered body protested yet he couldn’t move in a more
comfortable position. Especially, since he realized that his naked body was
upon his half dried blood from last night.
“Move yar ass, boy! Doc is waiting to make yar hole presentable…”
But he couldn’t move so Chill grabbed him from the cripple arm and hoisted him,
trying to set him on his legs which immediately bent, sending him again to the
floor, his arm painfully stretched in the man’s hand.
This time, the Vulture didn’t experiment with his trembling legs, just muffled
him in a blanket and holding him like a doll, stepped out of the cabaret and
shoved him in his car’s trunk. Bruce heard the engine roaring and then the
vibration as the car ran; his eyes were sore with dried tears stinging his
irritated flesh.
The distance wasn’t long and he felt the jolt from the stopping. In a few
minutes, the dull light from Gotham’s day hit his tired eyes and Chill covered
him entirely in the blanket, taking him in his arms.
To stand him on his feet, always supporting him so to not collapse again, and
pulled the blanket from him, letting his naked body shivering under the
doctor’s sarcastic eyes. It was the same man from that night; the one that
pulled out the bullets from his arm. He cast his eyes on the floor.
“What’s the problem with our Prince? Bad caviar?” he mocked without leaving his
seat by the examination table. “Put him on the table.”
Chill did as he was told and Bruce found himself again lying on his stomach,
his wound exposed to jeering eyes.
“Wow! That’s what we call a ‘Black Hole’! You seem to have had a terrific
night, Mr. Wayne! But what your parents will say when they learn this? A Prince
acting like the worse slut…” Bruce felt the doctor’s cold hand slapping gently
his buttocks and then stroking his flesh. “You’re too soft, little Prince.”
Bruce had his eyes closed not only from shame but also because even the gentle
ministrations caused him extreme pain, yet he heard the doctor walking away and
then putting gloves on.
“Tie him to the table’s legs; he’ll squirm a lot…”
“No…” he yelled and his voice was too hoarse from previous night’s screams and
the many hours of silence.
He didn’t want that ‘doctor’ touch him, he’d rather die… He tried to resist as
Chill took his tiny ankle and moved it to the table’s edge to strap it.
“No!” he yelled louder and twitched to free his ankle.
But the Vulture tightened his grip and smashed the little foot to the metallic
surface, strapping it. Bruce felt a strong slap in his buttock and the wet
sound told him that it was from the gloved hand of the doctor.
Chill continued to strap his other limbs without any nuisance and Bruce show
the doctor’s face, his mouth covered with the familiar medical mask. His eyes
weren’t mocking now but threatening.
“I’m trying to save your ass here, you brat, so shut your fucking mouth and
stop bothering me!”
He let his swollen cheek touch the cold surface, trying to avoid the stimuli
from his wounded area.
He screamed, he screamed very loud when a stinging liquid – antiseptic -
touched the inner walls of his anus and writhed desperately, wounding his
wrists and ankles; his cripple hand crucifying him. He whimpered but Chill’s
enormous palm squashed his head to the table, stopping every jerk of his head
during the treatment.
The liquid inside him burned so much that his legs trembled.
“You should be more careful” the doctor said indifferently to the giant
smearing cream to his wounds. “You almost ripped his indestine; unless the boss
got bored of him and wants to rub him out. He is too small and untrained yet,
right, little Prince?” his annoying jeering laughter hurt Bruce’s ear.
But the needle stitching the gashes in his anus was worse and Chill pushed more
violently his small head to the table. Yet the metallic surface didn’t thwart
his whines and moans, not his new tears…
“I’ll give him antibiotics but for at least a week you won’t use his ass” he
laughed “after all, he is beautiful in every part of his tiny body, so you can
use them, right?” he took his chin in his fingers and forced his trembling from
the sobs mouth to open for him to fill it with different pills. “You’ll bring
him to me every day to see if his poo irritated his wounds.” His lattexed
finger stroked his swollen cheek and he smiled to his frightened eyes. “You see
what troubles you caused us? Good thing your little butt isn’t a bad view…” he
laughed and Chill imitated him.
Bruce kept inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, his eyes shut, his mind
wandering to find something relaxing that would take him away from the
artificially lighted examination room, the unpleasant smell of antiseptic and
the doctor’s brushing gloved hands. Keep the slow rhythm of breath, he said to
himself, and find something pleasant, damn you!
He recalled the deep feeling of numbing relaxation and the surrendering
exhilaration of floating on the sky, the polar sky which was covered with the
different waving fluorescent colors of aurora borealis: green, red, blue… Blue
as the eyes of the beautiful, kind man who was holding him gently in his
embrace. Gentle as his soft lips upon his own, secure as the man’s heartbeat
stroking his…
His heart was beating calmly now, following his steady aspiration. His cheek
was feeling the leather of the sofa and not the cold metallic surface, the
pleasant perfumed smell of the office beating the aggressive smell of
antiseptic. The caring hands of Clark kicking out the doctor’s insulting
touches… And he wasn’t in pain anymore.
He heaved his body and cautiously sat on the sofa, rubbing his eyes. If only
the mention of a medical examination, brought that, he didn’t want to imagine
what the actual examination would bring… No, there was no reason to put himself
to that hardship and especially when he had so many things to do; he understood
Leslie’s reasoning but now wasn’t the time…
A soft knock to the door startled him and he called them in. It was Ms. Philips
a bit agitated.
“Mr. Fox said that there’s something interesting on GCN…”
He gave the vocal order and he saw in the large screen the familiar court room
of Metropolis’ Justice Hall; the crowd thick as in the day he testified – Clark
and Lois among them -, Falcone, Harvey and the jury in their seats. The GCN was
covering live the announcement of the verdict for Falcone. The verdict of the
jury was unanimous: guilty as charged for the countless felonies he was accused
for. Therefore, the former Gotham’s Emperor would spend the rest of his life in
prison.
Bruce’s eyes were unreadable.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Superman was watching the derelict warehouse at Metropolis’ docks floating
above the sea, his cape waving at the breeze. It was still daylight but the
warehouse was at a particularly secluded place, among warehouses abandoned
decades ago, so nobody unwanted was to approach the side. At first he
considered the guys insolent ‘working’ during the daylight, but seeing the
place he changed his characterization to smart: who would suspect that even in
that deserted place, they were loading something illegal during the day?
Not even him, especially considering that Clark Kent worked during the day. But
he had to take a leave for today, since he was informed about the transaction.
Clark returned to his small apartment after a light dinner and drinks with his
colleagues from the Planet; it was well past midnight and despite the fact he
rarely felt tired, he craved for his medium sized bed. He unlocked the door and
motioned to turn on the lights, when:
“Don’t!” a deep hoarse voice ordered from the shadows and Clark felt a shiver
running his spine, making him struggle to keep the chain with his keys from
falling.
Damn… He hadn’t heard anything… the sound/smell proof suit came immediately the
answer. And, of course, he didn’t expect him to come to Metropolis and mostly
in his apartment to have his super vision searching the shadows. His apartment:
how did he know? Stupid question… How he entered his apartment? Another stupid
question… He was Batman after all. And what was important for Clark was that he
was here… Better than he ever hoped…
From the curtain of the small balcony multicolored lights from the street and
the nearby buildings were cast inside the pitch black living room and Clark,
without having to use his special vision, was able to see Batman’s familiar
frame detaching himself from the shadows.
He was imposing as the night he confronted him in Gotham, his black suit’s
material, although tough, was revealing every finely sculpted muscle, emanating
power and danger. His eyes were covered by the menacing white lenses and the
only visible part of his face was tense, his lips in a tight line.
Clark hoped for one of the blinding smiles of Bruce but he knew that this was
unimaginable for Batman.
“You can come closer” Batman snapped because Clark was still standing at the
threshold in front of the shut door.
As if being in my home? Clark mock asked himself. How different this being was
from the sleeping like a fetus Bruce…He obliged, he wanted the proximity
although he until now was hesitant to approach: after all, a month had passed
since their disappointing discussion in front of the Wayne graves and the
Malibu incident didn’t count.
Clark straightened his posture and towered the other man who didn’t mind. It
was obvious that he was in a hurry for something important.
“Why you didn’t call me?” Clark asked truly intrigued. “It is easier for me to
come.”
“It was my turn. I can’t have you constantly on the run because of me” his
voice was emotionless but determined; determination the only layer of his voice
that reminded him of the Bruce in the cemetery.
Clark took off his coat and spread it neatly on the back of a chair. He stared
at the dead lenses.
“You can turn off the lenses or pull off the cowl” he smiled “I know your
identity and I’m your friend…” and I missed s o much seeing your eyes and your
face from up close.
Batman indulged his half request and deactivated the lenses, revealing his
sparkling sapphire-emerald eyes which however were very dark, covered by the
shadow of the Bat and his mission.
“Chechen made a deal to buy cocaine and heroin from Byth Rok here in Metropolis
and Tuesday morning they are to meet to finish the job and transfer the cargo
to Gotham. Gotham after FBI’s interference is too dangerous for the local
dealers to try and bring drugs through the usual channels, harbor and airport,
so they ended up using highways, hiding the drugs in common merchandise.”
“Tuesday morning? Morning? That’s insane; I mean, in Gotham, okay, crimes
happen during daylight” he caught the scolding look of Bruce “but in
Metropolis? How do you know?”
Batman tilted his head and looked him in disbelief, as if saying ‘are you
really expecting me to reveal my methods?’ Okay, Batman had no mood for small
talk…
“Dock 32, warehouse 405” the harsh voice said resolutely “5 am”
Clark frowned; he was expecting maybe something milder for their first meeting
after one month.
“Why you don’t inform the Metropolis’ Police?”
“You do that; you’re their man.”
“You could have taken care of that yourself” Clark crossed his arms, looking at
his fellow crime fighter with doubt.
Batman’s eyes became even stonier.
“It’s your city.”
“So it’s a matter of… jurisdiction?” he asked mockingly, lifting an eyebrow.
Batman tightened his lips.
“I can do it myself, if you don’t want.”
Only then Clark remembered embarrassed that Batman doesn’t act during daylight;
not that this would thwart him, if there was need. But this time, there was no
need.
“I’ll do it” he coughed “what you said about ‘my city’ means that you don’t
want me in YOUR CITY?” his clear blue eyes almost complaining sank in Batman’s
steely ones.
However, he detected a small, faint change in those unique eyes.
“When I needed your help, I asked you” he snapped somehow lower and Clark
nodded. “Police will hear you and they’ll need your help catching both locals
and Chechen’s gang; even Chechen himself will be there.”
He turned to leave but Clark stopped him, touching his shoulder, causing
Batman’s inquiring look at his hand that made Clark remove it.
“Falcone was convicted in life imprisonment a week ago…”
Batman just nodded, his eyes still.
“How you fill?” he asked softly.
“Nothing changed but it’s justice” his voice was icy cold and distanced himself
from Clark who felt Bruce tense from the close proximity.
Batman turned graciously and opened the balcony doors, the sounds of Metropolis
and the still cold night air stormed inside.
Clark wanted to expand the visit even if it wasn’t exactly what he dreamt.
“How you’ll get back?”
He half turned.
“The same way I came…” he snapped mysteriously.
“Can I hope for an interview?” he asked trying to hide his longing to see Bruce
again.
He saw a half smile brushing Batman’s stony jaw and eyes.
“As everyone else…” he activated his lenses and jumped from the balcony,
leaving Clark with the hunger to see, hear, smell… touch Bruce’s body without
any armor hiding it…
Hurried footsteps and a familiar heartbeat although frantic and scared snatched
him out of his reminiscence. He cast his eyes at the street outside the
warehouse where the goons were loading the merchandise in trucks covering the
drugs in wooden cases filled with ice and fish. A woman was running panicked
away from the warehouse; Superman gaped: she was Lois! How she found out? Of
course, Lois had her resources…
Obviously, she was sprayed with something when the goons discovered her
sneaking – he could catch the smell - and now she was running without knowing
where she was heading… right on the rushing at the scene police cars and news
networks’ vans which came along to cover the news.
He dove on the street and took Lois in his arms just before the police car
would smashed her even trying to halt  and launched to the air.
Lois at first struggled in his embrace, her mind still misty from whatever drug
they sprayed her with and the hallucinations it provoked, but as soon as she
took in his face, she giggled completely un-Lois-y and before he knew it, he
felt her lips locked on his, sucking with a unprecedented passion that Clark
needed so much to soothe him… And without realizing it, he was kissing her too
with the same vigor; he needed a kiss like this, a passion like this, this
warmth…
Until some flashes of cameras woke him up and almost with panic saw that his
colleagues were absorbed in catching with photographs and video cameras his
kiss with Lois rather than the henchmen's arrests  and the confiscation of the
drugs. He bit his lips and sure that the Police had the control of the
situation, tightening his grip on the squirming for more Lois headed to the
closest hospital for his partner to receive the proper medical care.
 
Lex Luthor offered with gallantry a crystal round shaped flute with expensive
rare brandy to the raven haired young woman who was sitting one leg upon
another at the luxurious meeting table of his gargantuan office at the top
floor of LEXCORP skyscraper. Opposite her sat a man near his sixties, bald with
thick beard and mustache who seemed agitated.
The sun was still high above the Metropolis skyline, a fact that Stane didn’t
appreciate much.
“You’re sure this is the right time of the day for a meeting like this?” he
inquired his partners, taking the glass Luthor offered him.
Talia stroke gently the air with her long fingers, her eyes mocking innocence.
“But why, Mr. Stane? People like us have nothing to hide, after all…”
“Don’t they?” the man asked frowning – he still didn’t like much this alliance
with a highly dangerous woman, leading a squad of dangerous lunatics, and a
tycoon who was stuck with destroying Superman.
She rolled her heavy lidded with fake lashes eyes and tilted her head bored to
Luthor’s direction who occupied the head of the table.
“Explain to him, Lex, that people are stupid: they’ll never suspect you if you
work under the sun. On the contrary, a scene set in the night immediately
predisposes to shady activities…”
Luthor however was moody; the stupid incident with Wayne had more toll than he
had estimated and people still either reprimanded or laughed at him. Of course,
he didn’t give a shit about other people's opinions but it really began being
annoying.
“There’s no need, dear, you’ve already explained it…”
Talia laughed and her shrill laughter irritated Luthor more.
“Lex is very influenced by the backlash his advances on Mr. Wayne had…” Luthor
cast her a cold stare. “I assure you, Lex, in the end you will be laughing!”
He just lifted an eyebrow; big words all the time… And where was her ‘dog’?
Maybe a dog catcher caught him?
But Stane was frustrated; he didn’t agree to that to hear them bumbling about
their obsessions.
“Alright, I get it!” he stood abruptly. “You have your obsessions but what’s my
part in this? I don’t have time to waste on bullshits!”
Luthor smirked at him, while Talia looked at him coldly estimating.
“You can return to your… important” he chuckled “deals of ten bucks…”
The older man fumed and was ready to depart but Talia raised a palm in silence.
“Calm down, gentlemen. Lex is a bit edgy and forgets that I say who leaves and
who stays. And Mr. Stane stays. I assure you, Obadiah, that your time isn’t
wasted; after all, you have your obsession, too…” she dragged her words
pointedly, lifting an eyebrow.
Stane sat again somewhat soothed and sipped his whiskey.
“It’s not obsession; I just want what is rightfully mine” he said insulted.
“As all of us…” Talia replied and without an explanation gave him a manila
folder. “You’ll see that your time is not at all wasted” her sparkling black
eyes pierced him and the man unsettled needed a minute before taking the
folder.
He opened it and perusing the pages goggled; he looked the young woman puzzled.
“A little gift to establish our mutual trust” she answered.
“How did you find these?” after all it was an impossible task to find how
Ironman’s suit works and how to build it.
She just changed her crossing leg lazily and sipped her brandy.
“Is this really important, Obadiah?” and when the older man didn’t reply, she
smiled confidently “You only have to prepare yourself and wait for the proper
time…”
Luthor that until then was watching the exchange curious about what she gave to
the man to make him goggle like this, turned feisty to Talia.
“And the proper time is for you to decide?” his defiance was evident, as his
sarcasm that curved his face in a half smirk.
Talia however seemed more amused than annoyed, when leaned to his place
steadying her glistening eyes in his icy ones and Luthor was reminded of her
father.
“I. Plan. You. Execute.” She spat, her breath hot in Luthor’s face.
Luthor took the challenge.
“And why we should follow ‘your planning’? After all, your League doesn’t look
to me as mighty as you claim” Talia smiled “and why I should trust your plans –
which you don’t let as in – when your father was killed by his young student?”
Talia’s face was expressionless, her breath caught in her chest, and Luthor
satisfied smiled “Your family doesn’t seem to me very keen in planning…”
Talia frowned and her eyes became glassy and Luthor felt the cold of her wrath.
“My father had a soft spot for him’’ she spat “although he trained him, he made
the fault of considering him frail and vulnerable. He was underestimating him
and overestimating his student’s sense of honor and gratitude.”
Luthor laughed sarcastic, while Stane was watching perplexed his mind already
racing on the data he got.
“Gratitude? Oh, you’re so insolent! You said that your father was using him and
was expecting him to feel grateful? Even I am not so selfish!”
“Are you really defending him?” she asked ironic, lifting a brow. “My father
saved him, gave him a purpose…”
“Can we work on our purpose, instead of arguing about your father and him?”
Stane intervened sick of their pointless dispute not sure about who ‘him’ was;
it was still difficult for him to believe that the formidable Demon had a…
passion for Bruce Wayne and all this fuss was about him. The young man
interested him only because he was a friend of Stark’s and thus a possible
vulnerability for him.
But Luthor’s and Talia’s eyes were locked.
“In his bed?” Luthor shot his bomb smirking and Stane stared while the young
woman clenched her fist.
Screams and shouts from outside invaded like a wave the dangerous silence of
the office and Luthor abandoned his ‘battlefield’, irritated for the blatant
dismissal of his orders for no interruption.
He strode to the office’s door, fuming for Mercy’s negligence.
“Where’s that Mercy?”
The double door to his office burst open and he jolted surprised backwards, a
bizarre throng with machine guns flooding the space, pointing at Luthor and his
partners. Luthor noticed that the goons were wearing clown masks, a woman among
them with a deep red wig, an eye mask and dressed in military attire.
But the most absurd was the man leading them and Luthor who was right in front
of him stared. He was tall and thin, clad in a dark purple suit matched – a
figure of speech…- with a brazen blue shirt and an acid green vest that was the
same shade as his curly long hair. His face was covered with white paint that
made his surrounded by black paint green eyes more menacing, yet the most
sickening thing in this grotesque face were the scars in both sides of his ruby
painted plump lips; the scars raised to the middle of the cheeks and the black
stitches holding them together were like those in Frankenstein’s monster.
“Mercy from Heaven! I gave her a break…” the odd clown shouted, making a
suggestive hitting movement to his own head.
 “What joke is this? How you got here?” Luthor gritted his teeth.
The man lifted a finger and shook it in denial synchronized  with his head.
“Noooo, this isn’t a joke – this is Joker!” he bowed in a mock mimic of
medieval courts’ Jokers.
Meantime, his clowns-goons scattered in the room pointing their guns to
Luthor’s guests; Stane a bit shocked but Talia completely unfazed if not
amused, which caught Joker’s eyes; he walked to her tilting his head in mock
curiosity.
“Ooooooh! What weeeee have here? Morticia Addams!” he motioned to take her hand
but she withdrew it “Sooo flattered; I looove Addam’s Family, especially that
Hand” he made his dressed in purple leather fingers move like walking. “And I
see that you, preeeety, looove baldies” he pointed Stane with the edge of his
constantly moving eyes.
Talia’s eyes were expressionless with a minuscule yet stark irony, piercing
fiercely the man’s crazy ones.
“Nice outfit!” he whistled ascending with his eyes her slim body dressed in a
dark blue business suit its skirt some inches above the knees with rips in both
edges, exposing her endless legs ending at blue stilettos.
The woman wore a light blue silken shirt that its cleavage barely reached above
the opening her jacket’s lapels made, leaving a huge part of her rich bust
naked.
“Hooolly cowwwww!” he exclaimed following the depth of her cleavage, letting
his jaw hanging to push it with his palm back in its place. “How can a cow be
holly? If you are a Buddhist, yeah…” he scratched his nose. “Darling, I’d
gladly do you buuuuuut I’m an engaged man, soooo I’ll wait till I’m married
because I’m not the loyal type…”
Talia just uncrossed her legs indifferently and changed leg, cautiously to kick
the man’s groin. The clown left her jumping and laughing like a maniac.
Joker stretched his body and fixed his jacket.
“I like her! Buuuut my heart belongs to…” he singsonged approaching the
flabbergasted Luthor who felt pity for the whole crime scene if a man like this
was now among them... “And that brings us” his voice became dead serious and
menacing at its low pitched depths “to the bald loverboy, here!”
His motion was so rapid that Luthor didn’t perceive what happened till the back
of his neck was clenched in the purple leather pinch, his face in close
proximity to the clown’s, a smell of raspberry jam filling his nostrils.
“I wanted to grab hair” he shook his head “is more dramatic, but since there’s
an evident lack here…” he sighed “I’ll take what I can… Well, my boy, you seem
to have a problem controlling your dick – pardon me, Morticia – from entering
private property…”
Luthor was irritated from the clown’s nerve to attack him and his face was
tense and threatening till the purple-clad man conjured from nowhere a narrow
but shining sharp knife and touched his cheek.
“What you’re saying, you freak?!” the tiny flickering of fear in his chest
enraged him; he was used to terrify not being terrified.
Joker tilted his head as if wondering if he should be insulted or not but
unable to decide continued.
“You dared to harass my fiancée” he gritted his teeth and the edge of the knife
pressed Luthor’s flesh who looked totally perplexed.
“Are you crazy?!’’ the CEO exclaimed.
Hearing that, Joker rolled his eyes and knocked Luthor’s head with his fingers
as if he was knocking a door.
“Are you sure this store you run isn’t bankrupt? Because this shining bulb
seems empty!”
He made two steps backwards and opened his hands, gesturing with his head at
his posture.
“You see someone dressed like that, painted like that and still have doubts if
I’m loony?!!!”
In a rush, before Luthor even considered to get away, he regained his previous
threatening position.
“Back to our civilized discussion… If you’re wondering, yeeeep!, I got a
fiancée.”
“And what I have to do with her, you moron?!”
“I didn’t mention a her… You goosed my beloved…”
Luthor was on the verge of a breakdown not so much from fear but from not
catching a thing this loony were saying.
“I only goosed…” he admitted pushed by his exasperation and the Joker rasping
like an exhausted dog and glaring persistently nodded. “…Bruce Wayne…” Luthor
stayed agape from the ridiculous realization.
“Yeah…, sweet” he licked his lips, closing his eyes, as if tasting “frail
Brucey…”
Now, Luthor began laughing; what he heard making him forget the knife.
“Well, I didn’t see any engagement announcement and mostly he didn’t wear an
engagement ring, did he?” he jeered the crazy man.
But even before finishing his phrase the knife’s blade touched the inside of
his mouth right at the lips’ corner; Luthor for the first time felt terror,
sensing the vibrations of the man’s utterly serious wrath.
“I. Am. The. Joker! And I make people like you smiling… permanently. He
resisted and you continued, you TOUCHED HIM. YOU TOUCHED MY PROPERTY and this
means death penalty.”
Luthor felt with dread the stinging of the blade in his mouth and cringed but a
deafening crashing sound took everyone’s eyes from the scene and to the
destroyed window where a stern Superman stood, his hands in his waist. He was
leaving the hospital where Lois was still bumbling and was roaming the city
hoping desperately – and in vain, he knew it – that Bruce didn’t see the kiss,
when he heard voices and commotion at Luthor’s office. Although, he didn’t like
the billionaire, he was Superman…
Joker’s goons fired simultaneously yet Superman completely unfazed melt with
his heat vision the smoking guns and the clown tilted his head disappointed.
“What a waste! Oh! And that must hurt… LexieLu’s pocket! So much for the bullet
proof windows, bliahhhh…” he nodded to the empty space where the window stood.
“Let him go… whoever you are!” Superman ordered, his eyes puzzled from the odd
gang and its odder leader.
Joker grabbed Luthor and brought him in front of him like a shield.
“It’s Joker and… although you’re not the superhero I want to meet” he lowered
his voice as if saying a secret “black is classic and always trendy and without
wanting to insult you… red, blue and yellow it’s toooo” he scratched his head
with the tip of the knife “kitsch! Oh! And between us – I always wanted to ask
that; don’t take me for tactless – forget the ladies, now; between us: that
huuuuge thing… theeeere” his eyes pointed to Superman’s groin “is real or a
pair of socks? Hehehehah!”
Superman registered the man dumbfounded: what was that? He didn’t resemble
anything he ever met; he didn’t seem to take anything serious. He was a man who
joked with life and death.
“You won’t answer, huh?” Joker inquired disappointed, tightening his grip on
Luthor. “I knew it was socks!”
“It’s over, Joker; let Luthor go and surrender!”
Joker nodded to his men to attack Superman but before they even began their
motion the hero blew, the power of his breath sending the men in the wall,
while the female part of the gang just withdrew out of the room. Joker,
however, who already knew what would happen to his goons, was laughing with a
shrilling way that ached Superman’s ears.
And just a minute later a loud explosion from the storey under and a woman’s
cry for help made Superman to rush there but he returned immediately,
discovering furious that nothing had happened and obviously the female gang
member just created a decoy. They truly believed that that would distract him
much?
He found Joker with Luthor seriously pale now, in front of the gap the broken
wall-window had left. He pointed his eyes to Joker’s blade the blue becoming
red and the metal melted, the man laughing from the burn he felt.
“You eat too much chilly, huh?” he remarked to Superman’s eyes.
“You can’t flee” he answered pissed.
Joker nodded dead serious.
“Yeeeeep, but he can fly!” and with that tossed Luthor to the void of the
ninety stories giggling.
Superman gritted his teeth and dove behind the screaming CEO and Joker
completely indifferent gestured to his henchmen to follow him. He blew a kiss
to Talia who was watching utterly uninterested the scenes and left the wrecked
office.
After a couple of minutes, Superman landed inside the office holding a
trembling Luthor who tried to look cool, shocked to not being able to detect
Joker nowhere in the building – that stupid Luthor had lead in the walls.
“I guess I have to thank you…” Luthor said coldly, cleaning his expensive
jacket.
But Superman grabbed him from the lapels and hoisted him, his legs dangling.
“Hurry again Bruce Wayne and I’ll be the one who will toss you from the
window!” his face was stone and ice, his eyes reddening.
Luthor just stared speechless and Superman dumped him to the floor, storming
out of the window to the Metropolis’ sky.
Talia stood lazily and approached Luthor who was regaining his footing and
Stane followed. A battered Mercy just entering the office worried.
“You were right” Luthor said to Talia “indeed, he has something for Wayne.”
Talia shrugged, smiling.
“And you don’t know a thing…”
“And that…man? Who is him and what he has with Wayne?”
“He is what his name indicates; a joke!” answered Talia contemptuously. “Forget
him; just a nut case, playing bad guy!”
“Easy for you to say…” mumbled Luthor.
Stane looked at both of them confused but demanding simultaneously.
“What’s with this Wayne kid anyway?” he spat aggrevated.
 
The ragged man shuffled on the pavement in front of Ms. Gambol’s small
restaurant; the old lady had kept the store opened for decades fighting with
stubbornness every hardship and financial crisis. Of course, in the recent
years the small restaurant was flourishing, enjoying the protection of Ms.
Gambol’s mobster grandson and the clientele of his rich colleagues and
henchmen. Due to her eighty years of age, the formidable little old lady didn’t
run every detail of the store’s life, yet she visited the place almost daily to
make sure that her beloved store which ‘raised three generations of Gambols’,
was strong and well working.
Freddy, his long dirty white blond hair falling aggressively on his wrinkled
filthy face dragged his feet, clenching his shred ancient coat that someday
might have been blue but now was just gray under the layers of mud and dried
alcohol. His eyes were expressionless, almost dead, and huge bags were under
them; their color – not that anyone really cared – were a faded brown.
The people of Adams Street knew barely anything about him and frankly who
cared? He was just a homeless from the many, so big deal! They just registered
his insignificant presence; some jeered him and continued their course. It was
a homeless who dragged his ruined from alcohol legs to restaurants across the
Narrows in hopes of finding or getting any leftovers from the menu. But only
old Ms. Gambol was giving him some pie she had cooked and some coins, not
complaining about his silent slumped form outside her restaurant in stark
contrast with other owners who kicked the man mercilessly to stop bothering
their clients’ eyes.
Sometimes, Ms. Gambol tried to make him speak about himself but Freddy with
gestures explained to her that he was mute.
There was no doubt that Ms. Gambol was a nice lady with a good heart, despite
the fact her grandson was one of the biggest mobsters of Gotham, controlling
prostitution and the network bringing women and children from and to other
countries. She was aware of her Gambie’s – as she was calling him – illegal
activities, but was averting her gaze from his cruelty. Besides what a poor lad
was to do in such a cruel city and in such a cruel world? All their family had
was that small restaurant and there were times that they were hungry since the
mob bosses snatched their few takings for ‘protection’. Until her Gambie took
things in his hands.
“Why you let that filthy beggar in front of our door?” Gambol asked his granny
furious, having just disembarked his sleek black Mercedes.
“He’s a poor, miser’ble being, Gambie! And ther’s God watchin’ us… Aft’r’ all,
he’s just slumped ther’, nevr botherin’ anyon’.”
“He bothers me, granny! He stinks! Good thing, that Wayne dumpster opens or
I’ll have to kill him and throw him to the river!”
“Gambie!” the old woman exclaimed disapprovingly.
But her grandson put his hand around her small shoulders and guided her inside,
spitting at the man’s battered, full of holes shoes, Freddy didn’t even changed
his lowered at the cold pavement eyes where he was sat using some yellowed
newspapers to supposedly protect his body from the water flooding the pavement
from the constant rain.
The two henchmen guarding the door to the restaurant didn’t even registered
Freddy’s presence, absorbed in their discussion about the gathering of Gotham's
three mob bosses  in a meeting that would decide the future of Gotham’s
underworld in the dire times after Falcone’s fall and law’s return. Return… The
men were sure that this was only a small interval, as their boss was sure, and
then the one that would beat the other two, will become the new king of mob and
Gotham. As the boss was saying, it takes patience and brains to get rid of the
other two.
Freddy was hearing the same things whenever his exhausted legs brought him to a
mobster’s joint… Poor city!
From the inside of the restaurant the large TV was barking with stupid reality
shows, someone was changing rapidly looking for something interesting to watch.
He left it to the evening news, since Gambol roared so, and soon the biggest
pimp in town started laughing amused.
“That’ll teach ol’ Chechen! He was ‘lmost caught in Metropolis, hehe!’’
Freddy just raised his eyes at the loud laughter and caught the images of a
sunny blue sky, unlike their gray rainy sky and a small red and blue spot that
slowly became Superman, as the cameramen zoomed, holding a woman and kissing
her passionately. The newscaster was commenting that the hero had saved
reporter Lois Lane just before she was crashed by a police car and when he
realized that their hot interaction was seen, he grabbed the young woman and
left to take her to a hospital.
The man’s tired, dead eyes stayed for a moment glued in the TV screen replaying
the kiss, under the enthralled comments of the newscasters. The restaurant’s
door opened and Freddy bowed again his head, only to see two glistening
expensive black shoes standing in front of his ruined ones. And then two strong
hands picked him from the wretched lapels of his coat and heaved him from the
pavement, gritting his teeth because the beggar was a bit heavier than he
calculated.
“Look at me, punk!” Gambol gritted his white teeth and Freddy trembling in his
hands raised shyly his eyeballs under his thick dirt white eyebrows. “If you
ever come here again or near my granny, I’ll fill your shit body with bullets!”
Freddy felt the two henchmen clenching his arms and Gambol brought out of his
jacket a gun which pressed at his forehead causing the old man’s whining.
“Exactly, shitbag! Go to Wayne’s bin, they want useless shits like you, but you
don’t want me seeing your ugly face again! Not even smelling you!” he twisted
his mouth and nose in disgust and walked away gesturing to his men, cleaning
his gun’s point on a rag and putting it in its place.
With their boss’ gesture, the two men threw with force the fragile man on the
street, sending him to land in a mud puddle from the constant slow rain that
was drenching the city from the morning. Both of them looked their hands
repulsed and hurried to rub them at the same rag, cursing.
Gambol’s Mercedes roared and accelerated fast, leaving the small, empty street,
avoiding the old man by inches.
Freddy coaxed difficult his hands to support his ragged as his clothes body to
rise to its knees. He was soaked with mud and although his facial hair was
leaking mud too, he could feel warm liquid dripping from his mouth and nose.
He staggered to stand on his feet that was frozen from the icy mud and
stretched his hand to find support to the wall. They didn’t want him here…
He shuffled his feet till a deserted alley two blocks away and lifted the
metallic manhole cover and jumped inside, returning the cover to its place. He
walked some distance on the narrow curb following the water’s flow and then
seeing another ancient rusty cover, lifted it and sank beneath to find himself
to a mesmerizing sparkling environment of stalactites and small cavities
forming something resembling sometimes a stony forest and sometimes a palace
with many arched halls.
He made a few steps and found the off road motorcycle waiting for him. He took
the casual yet clean and pristine coat from the motorcycle’s seat and wore it,
covering his ragged appearance and then covered his head with the helmet. Then
he rode the bike and accelerated, the complex cavities – stalactite context
becoming a blur. The bats which were hanging from the glistening ceiling were
startled from the odd roar and formed a black cloud following his passing.
He followed the tunnels nature hundred-million-years work had built through
what above the ground was called Midtown, till the secret point where the
natural tunnel crossed Chelsea Tunnel and from there the foggy light of
Gotham’s evening and the artificial lights of the street accompanied him till
the Palisades. Then he left the road and mingled with the forest to come across
a small waterfall which he crossed with a sharp jump to land to the other side
of the water curtain where a huge cave was gaping.
Stepping down from the bike, he was drenched but, at least, the dried mud was
almost rinsed. He pulled off the helmet and rested it on the bike’s seat. He
walked with confident strides through the slippery surface of the cave, passing
by the black tank-car Lucius provided him, bats welcoming him with their
screeching sounds as they were waking at the ceiling. He approached the
unfinished yet working bench with the huge screen that was divided in several
smaller screens which manifested various different images from the security
cameras police had set in different spots of the city. The moisture proof PC
was more powerful than its box size processor showed but there were still
things to be added to it.
He sat on the comfortable armchair before the screen, took out from his ear the
special earbud and peeled off his long, dirty haired wing, the dirty long wild
beard and mustache, and finally the thick eyebrows and the eye lenses,
revealing an odd mixture of Bruce Wayne’s sparkling young eyes and silky
brunette locks with a wrinkled, aged face. He put the folded mirror erect on
the bench and began removing the makeup of his face, slowly regaining his true
age.
“There is no chance you getting in the Manor in these clothes, Master Wayne”
came suddenly the disapproving cool voice of Alfred, towering the sound of the
waterfall.
The young man turned to the cave’s entrance from where a tunnel led to the
Manor’s inside, replaced now by a modern lift.
“Young master, do you realize that you smell incredibly unpleasant?”
Bruce smiled.
“Good thing we thought to build a shower down in the cave, then…” he answered
and rose from the chair to retreat to the cavity they turned into a shower.
“I took the liberty to bring you some clothes; I left them in the cabin right
next to the shower.”
“Thank you, Alfred.”
Despite the smile in the young man’s face Alfred could detect a shadow, which
for Bruce was an annoying feeling of hollowness in his chest.
“Is there a hope that tonight you’ll be resting, or spending a pleasant night
in a cozy restaurant in Uptown?” he asked as his young master entered the
shower to be answered by a tilted head and a meaningful look before the door
closed. “Of course…” Alfred sighed and tided up the discarded parts of his
master’s disguise – not without disgust.
After a while, Bruce came out of the shower, fully dressed – Alfred understood
his young master’s unwillingness to be naked in front of anyone’s eyes, even
his beloved Alfred, when there wasn’t a need.
“Clean enough?” he inquired his butler and Alfred lifted an eyebrow.
“With a ten minutes’ shower? I doubted, sir! But since you’re planning on
wearing your other suit and getting dirty again, I guess it suffices for now…”
Bruce massaged his temples and Alfred discerned the slight signs of a starting
headache. The loyal butler approached him, his cool face softening from honest
concern.
“Master Bruce, you stretching yourself very thin… Wayne Enterprises at the
morning after you ran the tunnels with your bike in order to park it there and
find it after spying mobsters in the afternoon, and then being Batman at
nights…”
The young man raised his eyes on his butler’s clear blue eyes and smiled.
“If having to pick me up every day from there to the Wayne Tower is tiring to
you..." but seeing his stern expression dropped it. "And I still have the
evenings and dawns free…” his attempt on lightening the mood was met with
Alfred’s reprimanding stare and Bruce sighed. “This is not new for me, Alfred;
from eight years old Falcone had me working from the dawn till the late after
hours and then working on… other fields” he coughed “and then, even though
Falcone stopped fagging me, I had Ra’s’ hard training and then Batman, so I’m
used to all these.”
Alfred put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder.
“I know that your entire life was a constant hardship and precisely for that
reason I think that now it is time to get some long needed rest.”
His young master inhaled deeply and tilted his head.
“I rested for three weeks in Malibu. Now, I have to work. Besides” his voice
became hard and bitter “I must do things myself…”
Alfred frowned but Bruce walked to the bench.
“Mister Kent is always there to help” he commented following him.
Bruce rolled his eyes.
“He failed to help Metropolis’ police to arrest Chechen…” he sat on the chair,
browsing the different feedings from the public cameras.
Alfred remembered the images he saw on the news of Superman rescuing Lois Lane
in the docks of Metropolis’ harbor and then kissing the young woman. He lifted
an eyebrow.
“Every man, even a Super-man, have the right to fail sometime and he saved Miss
Lane.”
The young man rubbed some more his temples and turned his glistening eyes to
his loyal friend.
“I don’t say otherwise, Alfred” he replied calmly “but that doesn’t change the
fact that I have to work harder now whilst he could have removed one of the
crucial players.”
“He made a mistake, although I don’t think that you would have acted
differently, if a person’s life was threatened” the young man lowered a bit his
eyes “but that doesn’t change the fact he is willing to help you. Unless the
problem lies elsewhere” the butler’s eyes shone smartly with understanding.
Bruce looked him in the eyes.
“I don’t understand.”
“I believe you do, Master Bruce; is it that he was kissing Miss Lane?”
The young man blushed on the hint and shook his head in denial.
“I don’t care about whom Superman or Clark is kissing. Actually, I always
thought that he and Lois are a good match …” he stopped, unwilling to continue
and Alfred patted his shoulder, sensing a deep pang of willing yet painful
resignation in his young master’s heart – Bruce understanding this hardened his
eyes. “But, as I said, Superman can’t do what I’m doing; he helped as he could
and I’m grateful for that.”
“I know, Master Bruce” Alfred said warmly. “I have your dinner ready, so up we
go?” he smiled and the young man squeezed his wrinkled hand.
“You’ll eat with me?” he asked but Alfred sensed a child-like pleading so he
nodded.
“On the condition, you’ll take your supplements without any trouble.”
“I always do, don’t I?”
He rose from the chair and both walked to the tunnel entrance where the lift
waited.
“Also we have to arrange an appointment at the clinic for your examinations…”
Alfred brought back the thorn of the last days.
Bruce stood abruptly as if he was hit by something extremely painful; he became
tense.
“Gotham is on the verge of a gang war, Wayne Enterprises struggle to heal from
Falcone’s reign and you expect me to sit in a clinic for one – or maybe two –
whole days, enduring” he took a deep breath and Alfred’s heart was clenched on
that ‘enduring’, as if a medical examination was a torture for the youth.
“It is needed, sir.” He tried to appease him.
“Don’t worry, Alfred, there is no chance I’ll contaminate anyone with anything
I might be carrying!” his eyes widened.
“That’s not…”
But the young man was agitated and Alfred noticed the little blood on his
nostrils and lips dripping from the scars he had there.
“If I am to fear that you will sedate me, I’ll stop eating in the Manor…” his
tone was determined.
“No, Master Bruce, Leslie was just kidding: I would want you to do the
examinations with your own will. Please, calm down… What is this blood?”
Bruce rubbed his temples, regretting his outburst.
“I’m sorry, Alfred, I yelled at you… Oh, the blood…” he smiled “Gambol’s men
aren’t too merciful with beggars… Just some scratches.”
Alfred nodded and followed Bruce in the lift.
As they entered the corridor exiting the secret passage, they heard the special
satellite phone stubbornly ringing.
“That must be Master Anthony… Right on time” Alfred commented nonchalant eyeing
the wall watch which was an exact replica of the wooden one the Waynes had.
“I’ll serve the dinner; I expect you to not make the receiver burn, like
yesterday or the day before yesterday…”
Alfred left for the kitchen and Bruce picked up the phone: they agreed to use a
satellite phone just in case…
Tony was even more cheerful than usual.
“I was ready to hang up and rush in Gotham to rescue you; I was afraid that
something nasty happened to you, since Alfred was absent too…”
“We were at the cave.”
“Where else you would have been?”Bruce could see his friend rolling his eyes.
“In a club, having fun?”
“Tony, it’s only 8pm in Gotham…”
“Yeah… Because at 11pm you would have been… Anyway, you saw our UFO friend?”
So this was the reason for his exhilaration. Bruce directed his gaze to the
renovated drawing room with its modest desk, the wooden library, the soft sofa
and the portrait of his parents, above the small traditional marble fireplace
where a fire was dancing among the logs. He must remember to thank once again
Alfred for reconstructing the frame of his childhood…
“Lucius told me that the project is progressing.”
“Yes, but I won’t use other people with MY arc reactor technology; so the
initial stages will be Lucius and I.”
“And you called me ‘paranoid’”
“No, little guy, this isn’t paranoia, this is what we call industrial
espionage! Out of topic: when are you going to drive your car?”
“Oh! I’m anxious to do it publicly!”
“Interesting, I have done it sometimes and it was…” Tony’s voice was very very
heavy with nostalgia “oh! You mean driving!” Bruce’s laugh reached Tony’s ears
“Ugh! Your services are too slow! But you’re changing subject, you sneaky
monster… You saw our UFO smooching?”
Bruce closed his eyes.
“Yes. At least now you won’t worry…”
“You bet; a burden has left my shoulders… Now I am relieved.”
“Me too, Tony.” He replied coldly.
***** Chapter 12 *****
The solemn lights of the Wayne Manor were already illuminating the peaceful
dark green scenery of the still cold March evening. Alfred knocked gently on
the door to the master’s bedroom. He had carefully pressed his young master’s
evening attire and had carefully laid the clothes and the perfectly polished
black shoes yet he wanted to assist Bruce if he needed it, because he was sure
that the young man wouldn’t ask: he had learnt to serve others in the most
horrible ways and didn’t feel comfortable asking others’ help.
“Come in, Alfred” he heard his slightly frustrated voice calling.
Entering the room, he saw his young master having already wore the black
trousers and the white woolen shirt with the fine silver vertical stripes.
Although the room was the first to be completely renovated to the very smallest
of details, Alfred couldn’t stop from re-watching the images of his young
master being brutally spanked by Falcone, his heavy crop ruining Bruce’s
beautiful flesh; the young man enduring the torture, whining, convulsing and
crying because he didn’t want to reveal his true self to his master. He could
still see the flying blood and specks of flesh…
And then the cruel man ordered him and Chill to leave and Alfred knew what
dreadful continuation awaited his beloved child – after all, the same thing was
happening every night since Falcone decided to make Wayne Manor his palace and
brought his slave along. Alfred knew that even before, this was the fate of the
last Wayne: to be raped, to give pleasure to his parents’ killer, quenching his
insatiable thirst for revenge on Thomas Wayne who dared to threaten his rule on
the Narrows.
That endless night, after Falcone left with his right hand henchman, leaving
Bruce tied in the headboard and spent – as he thought -, he ran immediately to
do whatever he could to soothe his young master’s wounds to find him already
standing, one of the white silken sheets covering his nakedness, unable however
to hide the bleeding from his ravaged buttocks. He was heading to the door,
when Alfred’s presence made him halt.
“Don’t go tonight, Master Wayne… You’re bleeding and…” he pleaded with him.
But the young man’s stare was resolute as his posture, his steel will not
letting anything from his suffering surface.
“I can’t, Alfred; many things have to be done tonight, or a man will die by
Falcone’s thugs. And don’t call me ‘master’…” I am just a slave, Alfred heard
his thought and he was grateful to Bruce for not articulating it, certainly to
not hurt the man who loved him so much.
He followed him to the corridor to the secret passage; he tried to hide his
agony: a man could die yet he didn’t want his young master dying in his effort
to save him.
“And if Falcone returns? Everything will be wasted!”
Bruce had halted abruptly and pierced Alfred’s eyes with his flared up ones,
still red from his cries, since he didn’t want to disappoint his torturer who
savored that tears.
“He is at Dolcetto in an important meeting with gangsters from other cities and
then he’ll have other more demanding things to run to…”
Bruce was still buttoning the last buttons of his shirt to the neckline and
Alfred realized that this was the reason for his frustration as he took in that
the button constantly slipped from his fingers.
Bruce sighed and cast a hopeless gaze to Alfred.
“Why I bother?!” he shrugged “Left hand is better with these things…” and he
began with his left hand.
Indeed, the left hand was better in this; his right hand although healed by Al
Ghul and perfectly functioning in hard movements still manifested its crippled
for years state in some very fine movements.
“Do you want me to assist you, sir?”
Bruce smiled and once again lightened the butler’s life.
“Not in buttoning my shirt, Alfred; even for a brat it’s too much…”
Alfred recalled the morning after the brutal spanking; Falcone had called him
to prepare his slave for a public appearance.
“Fix him up and dress him to impress! Chill is coming to take him.”
Chill, that fucking monster who was raping the poor child… He wished he had
done more damage to him than the scar through his eye.
He found Bruce spread in the bed as the mobster had left him, just in case
Falcone returned. The young man was completely exhausted which was absolutely
expected since after the inhuman spanking he suffered and the repeated rapes,
he roamed the city blowing up Falcone’s drug loaded tanker – he heard that on
the radio – and saved a man from his almost murderers.
He untied him, although these bloody things were a bit strange for him, and
went to ready the bath, hoping that Bruce will stay on the bed. In vain! That
obstinate boy! He managed to catch him before he crushed on the floor, the
young man clutching desperately the sheet on him. It was so painful to realize
that his young master didn’t want even him to see his naked body…
His young master tried to talk him out of calling him ‘master’ – they had
discussed it many times yet Alfred couldn’t do it; he agreed to not show much
affection even when alone, because that other monster, Al Ghul, wanted Bruce
for himself and forbade it. Ugh! Why that sweet child didn’t have the luck to
meet a decent man? Yes, he had agreed to that and he was keeping it with the
coolness his training – a fortunate thing – had equipped him with, but he could
not stop himself from addressing Bruce by his rightful title, at least when
alone…
He let Bruce relax in the bath and served the good breakfast he prepared for
him – the boy had to eat, since he was starved for so many years and now was
leading an exhausting life, but mostly because honestly he was enjoying feeding
young master Bruce after so many years.
 When he returned to the bathroom, he found the young man sleeping, exhausted
in body and soul, and Alfred shaking his head wished his young master was
traveling in a better world while asleep. However he had to wake him.
He barely ate; although stronger, Bruce still had difficulties eating
especially those days that his plan was in motion and every moment was so
crucial for his own survival and mostly for the well being of those he loved.
Afterwards, he had to stitch his awful wounds, feeling the young man’s
uneasiness to be exposed like this, forcing his Alfred to see up close how
badly he was tortured.
When it was finally the time to dress, Bruce had no choice other than let him
help yet he hurriedly pulled on his underwear himself.
Alfred was so touched he was able to dress the boy he considered dead for so
many years… He felt almost awe to help his young master to get his pants and
shirt on, despite the fact he was sensing how uncomfortable he was; Alfred was
careful to not touch more than necessary in order to not aggravate that feeling
and then brushed his soft, shining locks with his mother’s elegant comb...
He looked Bruce’s reflection at the body length mirror; the young man was truly
gorgeous yet the youth averted his eyes as soon as they met his icon. He felt
his heart clench; that filthy mobster had made his boy disgusted with his own
self…
Bruce’s lighthearted laughter brought Alfred back to the present, the happy
present, the present his young master and he were dreaming for so many years.
He looked at the vanity’s huge rectangular mirror – he took care to sell the
body length mirror that was connected with these bad memories – and realized
that the young man was laughing with how awkward he had managed to tie his
black silken tie.
Smiling himself approached.
“May I, sir?” he offered and Bruce cast his amused eyes on his loyal friend.
“Yeah, Alfred, please save me!”
Alfred took the silken edges and loosened the knot, though his young master had
tied it like he was afraid that it was planning to escape his collar, and
started gently tying it the right way. He sensed the young man’s eyes watching
his wrinkled hands’ elegant movements with a mixture of affection, reverence
and wonder; he wanted to sigh in the thought that his boy his entire life
hadn’t anyone to help him with anything, especially during his most tender
years.
“There it is, young master! I’ll teach you how to do it, although it’s honor
and happiness for me to…” he stopped before his emotion ruined his cool British
butler demeanor yet he understood that Bruce figured everything he wanted to
say, because the youth swallowed.
Alfred took the shining matching vest from the clothe hanger and helped his
young master wear it. It was as if he was preparing the young Wayne for the
prom and without wanting to his mind raced to what they never had. The teenager
Bruce getting ready for his prom and his date, nervous under the moved eyes of
his mother, his father waiting downstairs, studying his patients’ files. Alfred
asking the boy if he would like him to drive him to his date’s house, only to
cause the boy’s furious refusal, because his schoolmates would jeer him. Then,
he would have waited with his masters for the teenager to return; the sound of
the car making Martha rush to the window, Thomas and himself pretending the
cool. Finally, Bruce entering the Manor, happiness all over his young innocent
face, his eyes shining, his lips and cheek still smeared with red lipstick.
Their boy’s first kiss would have been sweet, innocent and full of love not a
punishing act wanting to rampage his small too young lips with viciousness,
leaving scratches and blood instead of lipstick and tears of shame instead of
smiles… And his first love making would have been willing with someone Bruce
would have loved and would have been loved by; carefully, gently, not violently
and painfully to maim his unready small body with savage cruel ministrations…
Then, Bruce wouldn’t have been… No, he shook those thoughts from his head; he
was free now, life was smiling to him.
“If it wasn’t the Police’s annual fund raising ball, I wouldn’t have made all
this fuss” Bruce sighed buttoning his vest “I have those intriguing files of
the League to decipher; they won’t be leaking their wounds forever”.
Alfred was glad for the distraction his young master offered.
“But you want to declare your support to Commissionaire Gordon and his new
Police force – and they absolutely need that.”
“Exactly. Especially, since we don’t know the intentions of the two campaigners
for the Mayor’s post, concerning the Police Commissionaire. I’d like Jim to
stay at this post; he is too capable, too modest and incorruptible.”
“And Batman’s trusted ally…” Alfred added and Bruce nodded.
“The times are still critical for Gotham, with the mob barons circling each
other calculating the right moment to hit and in the meantime reorganizing
their activities.”
Alfred coughed pointedly.
“If I may, I’d like to point out that Gotham will always suffer critical
times…”
Bruce put his hand to the sleeve of the black jacket Alfred hold for him.
“I hope not, Alfred” he said, putting his other hand to the second sleeve, the
loyal butler straightening the immaculate tailored clothe to his young master’s
statuesque body. “Maybe we manage to make Gotham a city, maybe not completely
crime-free, but with a minimal criminality rate.”
Alfred handed him the elegant bottle with the expensive cologne and Bruce
looked puzzled.
“I bought it yesterday. Your body’s natural odor may be pleasant and your bath
foam too but I think that such dressing should be fit with the proper perfume;
you are a young gentleman, after all.”
Bruce smelled the perfume as it caressed his flesh.
“It smells beautiful…” he said and motioned to leave the vanity but Alfred
stopped him with a stare.
“If you permit me, you are beautiful, Master Bruce, as your parents were… Take
a look at yourself!”
But the young man lowered a bit his eyes and shook his head in denial.
“I… No… Sometimes I see a grotesque face like Bane’s when he…”
Alfred didn’t know who this Bane was – another torturer, of course.
“When, Master Bruce?” he whispered softly but the young man not wanting to
answer just cast fleetingly his eyes in his reflection to satisfy him.
“Alfred…” he began hesitantly.
“Yes, Master Bruce?”
“Don’t you think that this suit is too…” he grimaced, looking at his body which
was graciously hugged by expensive fabric.
Alfred resisted the urge to press his lips with sadness.
“Too fitting to your splendid body? Too perfectly tailored that highlights
properly your physical beauty?” he chased the young man’s eyes almost
relentlessly. “That is what you mean, sir? Then I agree: it is.”
Bruce didn’t insist although Alfred knew that his young master felt
uncomfortable with clothes revealing his physical assets – if there were
clothes that were able to hide them. The admiring stares of women and men only
stirring disgust in him.
“May I comb your hair, sir?”
Bruce sighed and sat at the stool, sensing how much the good man wanted that,
reluctantly facing the mirror although Alfred was sure that he wasn’t focused
to his reflection. He started combing ethereal the brunette silken hair and
noticed the sparkling young eyes focusing on his hands.
“It’s my mother’s comb, I remember it: she used to comb my hair with this…” the
young man smiled moved; he didn’t acknowledge the comb that day still under
Falcone’s rule, due to his fear for his emotions; things were so delicate then
that he didn’t want to risk letting his emotions free – not that he was letting
them now…
Alfred nodded. Bruce raised his eyes to the butler’s face.
“It has still her perfume…” his eyes shone more and Alfred saw the emerald
stars moving inside the sapphire seas. “Or is it just my idea?” he lowered his
voice.
“No, Master Bruce, indeed, it smells like Mrs. Wayne…” curious how some
inanimate objects keep perfumes and memories so strongly; he brushed the soft
locks as gently as he wanted to caress his boy’s hair with his hands.  
Despite the fact that if it depended on him, Alfred would have continued
combing his young master’s hair for all the times he was bereft of that, he
knew that he had to stop.
“There” he said touching the ebony curved comb on the wooden vanity which was
an exact replica of the vanity Mrs. Wayne had designed herself and Falcone had
destroyed.
Bruce as if being in front of a mirror was unbearable, stood immediately and
moved to the king sized bed at the feet of which he had left his finely
polished black leather shoes to Alfred’s disapproval. He sat with a rapid move
on the edge of the mattress, causing Alfred’s sigh for his wasted pressing and
the young man smiled mischievously, like when he ate the biscuits before the
dinner.
“Don’t worry, Alfred, it won’t wrinkle; I’ll just wear my shoes and get up.”
But as soon as he said that, his gaze was caught by the card resting erect on
the night lamb. He took it in his hand affectionately.
“I thought that she’d forgotten me… So many new places, new people… She always
wanted to travel.”
Alfred approached and saw again the card a delivery boy brought that morning.
Of course, he didn’t open it, but his young master was so happy when opened the
envelope at the evening that hurried to share it with him. Miss Kyle dressed in
skin tight blue jeans and a woolen white jersey was smiling seductively in
front of the glass pyramid adorning Louvre’s museum’s Cour Napoléon entrance.
“I’m constantly thinking of you, sweetie. That knee on Luthor’s dick was almost
as good as mine; I watched it a thousand times – though I hate computers - and
still I can’t get enough of It – the mother fucker! If I come across him, I’ll
give him his teeth to eat!
I’m having great fun and I get to know many people – you?
I hope you’re not mad at me for borrowing that painting (the kitty pours)…
Nobody gets to see it except for me…
I long to see you again,
                                                                          Love,
                                                                   Your Selina.
 “I’m sure that Miss Kyle never ceased to think about you, sir.”
“She is a rare diamond!” Bruce’s eyes were a bit misty and Alfred was sure that
he was thinking about the years that little girl was his only company and
solace.
The butler touched his palm on his young master’s shoulder and Bruce raised his
eyes on his face.
“I am grateful to Miss Kyle…”
Bruce lowered a little his gaze and then smiled.
“She really hates computers; she could have sent me a mail… The crazy thing is
I learnt using computers in her weathered laptop! Good thing, she didn’t
‘borrow’ a painting from Louvre!” he laughed.
Alfred lifted an eyebrow.
“I would say, Venus De Milo…” he remarked slyly and his young master laughed
more before taking in the time in his watch – his father’s brown leather
bracelet Jaeger-LeCoultre Reverso, to which Bruce added some gadgets, like the
bat signal light - and hurried to wear his shoes.
“Do you want me to bring the Rolls?” Alfred asked as soon as Bruce stood,
following him outside to the Manor’s main staircase and then to the salon.
The young man’s eyes shone enthralled something the loyal man had very rarely
the happiness to see.
“No, I’ll take the car!”
The car. Of course, Alfred thought. His young master was anxiously waiting for
that. He noticed how Bruce’s eyes were scanning the renovated space.
“Alfred, I have thanked you for getting rid of that stupid marble fountain of
perfume and the red velvet furniture?”
“And for donating all these amethysts and citrines and Swarovski’s crystals of
the chandeliers to various charities? Only twelve times till now, sir.”
“Make them thirteen…” he gave him a broad smile. “Thank you, Alfred, it is so…”
he choked to find the proper word “exactly as I remembered it in my dreams…”
his voice was heavy with emotion.
“You’re welcome, sir…” and changing the subject to something that was worrying
him. “Shall I remind you to be careful? The way you drive your other car is
rather – I dare say – suicidal to keep with a common car.”
Now, the boy’s smile was wicked.
“But this isn’t a common car, dear Alfred…” he patted his butler’s upper arm
and rushed out of the Manor to the waiting car.
“Do have a pleasant time, sir…” he said to his departing figure.
Wait a minute… How the car was in front of the Manor’s side entrance when it
was parked in the Manor’s garage? He recalled his young master lifting the
sapphire crystal of his watch and pressing a button… Alfred shook his head.
Anthony Stark’s brilliant toys! Of course, he created the best toy for his best
friend. He hoped he took care of the safety as much as he had done for the
magnificent appearance…
He smiled fondly seeing the sleek black car roar and speeding like a flash of
black the tiled with sand colored tiles lane leading out of the Manor’s
grounds, under the many happy lights illuminating the proud building and the
manicured garden. He couldn’t even imagine that some day he would see Bruce
leaving the Manor driving a car, like this, free from Falcone and having
regained his parents’ fortune – even a month ago, moreover six years ago…
He still couldn’t forget the image of the nine year old Bruce kneeled on the
floor of that disgusting cabaret, moping the surface using only one hand, his
other hand hanging dead on his side; the humming sound of his favorite lullaby,
the one that Martha Wayne sang to him, as he was whispering it to comfort
himself was haunting his every day and night… As were that desperate children
eyes staring at him as he was leaving the building, begging him to take him
with him away from there yet at the same time resigned to the knowledge that
Alfred couldn’t help him… Many times, even now, in his nightmares, he was
reliving the same scene, the blood from Bruce’s rear reminding him the torture
the boy was suffering constantly.
From that day he had hit that monster Chill, Falcone made sure that he never
saw Bruce again but for the fleeting glances the mobster permitted him of the
boy once a year or more rarely, only to reestablish his blackmail to him that
if he sought FBI’s or someone else’s interference, the child would die. And
later even these glances were replaced by few frightened words from the phone
that Alfred wasn’t sure if was Bruce himself or a recorded tape and the mobster
had already killed the poor boy.
Now Alfred was the guardian of a grand mausoleum, accompanied by ghosts of a
happy past, since even Master Anthony had been estranged from anyone reminding
him his little friend and was coming to Gotham only once a year to lay some
white liliums in Bruce’s empty grave; the stench of alcohol emanating the youth
and mostly his black eyes whenever met with Alfred’s made the loyal butler feel
like the worst scum. Because not only he didn’t have the courage to tell the
suffering young man the truth about his friend – how could he? Falcone would
kill Bruce, even on suspicion – but also Master Anthony was considering him a
traitor for serving the man who grabbed his Masters’ fortune and – the young
man knew, Alfred was sure – was their murderer.
Sometimes he was very happy that the mobster although he had changed the
beautiful Manor to a circus of showing off wealth, he didn’t decide yet to move
there, sparing him the torment of seeing his brutal face every day. On the
other hand, the silence was tormenting because his mind was constantly
repeating the good days, the contrast between those images and that of the
still alive child trying to soothe his pain using a lullaby heartbreaking...
Moreover the thought that maybe Bruce was still alive and if Falcone moved to
the Manor, would bring the boy with him made him long for that. Although that
would mean that he would have to watch his young master serving all day that
awful man and the nights hearing Falcone violating the defenseless boy… Dear
God, how nightmarish their life had become! He couldn’t even dream of seeing
his boy again without dreading it at the same time…
He was heading to his favorite bookstore at Amsterdam Avenue; he had to cover a
great distance from the Manor and it was close to the Narrows but the bookstore
was really nice with very rare editions, helping his tired mind travel; plus he
indulged himself into imagining that some day he would catch a glimpse of his
young master again – impossible, he shook his head, Falcone would never let the
last Wayne make a step out of the cabaret, out of his sight and after so many
years, if the boy was still alive, he doubted whether he would be able to
recognize him.
His foot met something and he jolted surprised; he had stepped on a man, a
ragged man with long dirty white blond locks and facial hair, slumped in the
store’s corner. A poor homeless and he hit him.
“Pardon me, sir…” he said to the man but the beggar didn’t even acknowledged
him raising his head; maybe he was drunk, his filthy clothes smelled bad.
However, Alfred having the image of the small skinny Bruce being all the time
starved felt a deep sympathy for the hungry old man before him. He pressed his
lips, opened his wallet, took some notes and shoved them to the man’s covered
with battered black glove hand.
He had leaned above the man and only then he saw the man’s almost dead faded
brown eyes focusing on him.
“Get in the shop, buy something and find a way to come undetected to the alley
behind the shop…” the old man whispered and Alfred realized that the voice
wasn’t that of an old man’s and it was vaguely familiar…
His heart pounded in his chest, despite his training in composure. He opened
his mouth to ask perplexed but the man’s head sank again to his chest and
Alfred walked to the store. His heart was racing from indecisiveness; should he
listen to a beggar who might be dangerous – since he wasn’t an old man as his
voice manifested – and go to the alley? He didn’t have the best impression of
alleys, especially of those in the back side of buildings… Maybe the stranger
seeing he had a full wallet wanted to kill him and take his money. But then why
revealing his young voice?
A thought was fighting to be allowed to form itself yet he couldn’t dare to
permit that; it was too good to be true, that didn’t happen even in his dreams…
He sighed and the cashier looked him curious.
“Are you alright, sir?” she asked sincerely.
“Certainly, Miss. Do you have a WC?”
She showed him the far back of the store, near the back exit that lead to the
alley; obviously, the young old man had studied the place. He paid for the book
he took, the title of which didn’t even registered, and told the young girl to
keep the change. He walked calmly to the WC and making sure that nobody was
looking there, covered by the long rows of bookshelves, he slipped outside, his
heart kicking from agony.
The alley was dirty and very dark although still afternoon – the perfect crime
scene, he thought but didn’t cringe; maybe death was better than this life: no,
Master Bruce was relying on him. He scanned the place but he couldn’t detect
any presence. He frowned: maybe the man mocked him?
“Come here…” he heard a raspy whispering voice from the shadows in the alley’s
corner.
He obliged, not letting his fears keep him rooted. He still couldn’t discern
the old man’s figure through the thick shadows and mist – after all, it was one
freezing, moisture winter afternoon. As he was approaching more and more, he
prepared himself for the piercing pain of a bullet or a blade but he was too
proud to close his eyes.
“Where are you?” he asked demandingly.
“It’s better not show myself here” the clear young voice brushed Alfred’s ears,
driving his heart crazy.
“Who are you?” he inquired because he wanted to end that uncertainty; he craved
to hear it.
“I…” he could hear the hesitation in the boyish voice, maybe he had forgotten
how to say it. “It’s Bruce, Alfred…”
Alfred could feel his eyes watering and wasn’t from the cold.
“Master W…”
He felt a hand clutching his and he swallowed the rest; he was stupid, it was a
suicide this name to be heard here.
“I’ll come to the Manor after midnight…”
To the Manor? After midnight? How could he? How he managed to be out of that
horrible place?
He opened his mouth to ask but he stayed agape, when he realized that he wasn’t
there anymore.
 
***** Chapter 13 *****
It was the longest evening, night and midnight he had ever, after the night the
Waynes had been killed. He had closed all the lights in the Manor the usual
time, but although he was all these years used to sleep rather early, because
there was nobody for him to serve, tonight he was so agitated he didn’t feel at
all drowsy. So many questions… But most of all he was happy, because though
they were still under Falcone’s rule, Bruce was alright, able to flee even for
a few moments his master’s hold and he would see him again…
He dreaded what he’d see; he had almost seven years to see the boy and the last
he remembered was that horribly disfigured hand and the bony body of a battered
child who bled… He sighed: they would fight everything together now. But how
Bruce would manage to cover all this distance from the cabaret to the Manor
without being discovered and brutally punished?
He began praying the boy didn’t dare to try it, when midnight came and he
wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and he dreaded that he was caught trying and now he
would be tortured for that.
He jumped hearing a creaking sound from the corridor at the first floor. He ran
upstairs. He had left on the small lamp as he did every night and in its dim
light, he saw the most beautiful, delightful, dreamy sight he could ever
imagine.
He forgot entirely that he was Alfred Pennyworth, the esteemed butler, and
rushed to the boy standing close to the wall, wrapping him in his embrace and
bringing him to hide in his chest; his hands caressing desperately, greedily
the boy’s back and hair which was to his pleasant surprise clean and soft. And
the boy’s body wasn’t as skinny as he expected it to be, although its posture
was shorter than his parents’ would suggest for their 19 year old offspring.
He wore tight jeans and a simple long sleeved black T- Shit. But despite his
plain dressing it was evident that he was an extraordinarily beautiful young
man and that had nothing to do with his craving for seeing again the last
Wayne. However his young master’s beauty made him sad because he realized
painfully that this was the main reason Falcone kept the boy alive…
He grabbed Bruce’s shoulders and scanned his body; his young face was radiating
and his beautiful eyes were jubilant as when he was a carefree child. Alfred
brushed his arms and looked Bruce’s face happily shocked from the realization.
“Your arm, Master Wayne… Is…’’
“Is fixed, Alfred…” the boy answered calmly accepting the man’s hands that were
exploring affectionately his face. “But” he bit his lips “don’t call me ‘Master
Wayne’… I’m not…”
Alfred felt his heart ripped at this and the hints it contained; hints of
eleven years of humiliation and abuse. Yet Bruce was there and he was almost
healthy, his hand healed, his body well shaped and built. He cupped gently the
young man’s face and he didn’t flinch although Alfred knew that must have taken
much effort from him to not to.
“How did you manage to escape Falcone and find me in the bookstore disguised
like this?”
“Sometimes I walk around disguised like this” Alfred frowned at that “and when
I found the chance to come to your favorite bookstore, I did it. I still
remember how many times you were taking me with you there, urging me to began
reading Shakespeare and not the comics Tony was bringing with him …” the
emotion in Bruce’s voice was making his own blow yet he could detect that the
boy struggled to hide something.
“Master Bruce, forgive me but it makes no sense…Falcone would have never let
you leave the place and the means for your disguise…”
He saw the young man swallowing and led him to his room to discuss more
comfortably, sitting at the bed which was away from the window. He had baked
his favorite biscuits and he had left the plate at the table in the middle of
his room. He saw in the low light of the desk lamp the longing stare Bruce cast
to the plate; the boy had so many years to eat them…
“I cooked them for you, Master Bruce; please, help yourself… I don’t know if I
still master my art” he laughed bitterly. “So many years have passed…”
Bruce brushed Alfred’s wrinkled hand, smiling.
“They smell exactly as I remember, but I can’t eat.” And seeing his pained
expression. “They’ll smell them on me and suspect…”
Alfred nodded understanding but the knot in his throat still throbbed.
“Master Bruce, you didn’t answer me…” he reminded him gently.
“Disguising myself and blending with people is part of the training my master”
he blushed “my teacher” hurried to correct but Alfred’s frown was enough to
understand that it was too late and lowered his eyes.
“Your ‘master’?!” he widened his eyes. “Training? You are not talking about
Falcone, are you?”
He heaved gently the young man’s face with his finger under his jaw and looked
him in the eyes.
“No, I’m not talking about Falcone. His name is” he hesitated “Ra’s Al Ghul, he
is my teacher and… master, but it’s more a title of respect. I met him years
ago, I think six years after my parents’ death; he knew who I am and he fixed
my arm. He washed me, he gave me clothes and feeds me well” he smiled shyly
gesturing to his body “he talked Falcone out of exhausting me with chores and…
and he trains me.”
He shook his head in disbelief.
“How could he manage to persuade Falcone to let him” he gestured to the air
“have so much access to you and your treatment?”
“He has power; I think that Falcone fears him… or, at least, respects him and
counts on him…”
Alfred still couldn’t understand. Maybe things were complicate for the young
man to understand too.
“If he is so powerful and wants what’s good for you and Falcone fears him, why
he doesn’t take you away from Falcone?”
He saw Bruce lowering a bit his eyes; obviously, he had wondered the same
things many times.
“He… he has his plan…He wants justice for my parents but I guess if he takes me
from there, that will ruin his general plan…” he lifted his eyes and took in
Alfred’s disbelief “He is very clever, Alfred, he is wise, he knows what is
necessary” Alfred sensed the pleading to the youth’s voice to have his
reassurance.
He nodded reluctantly.
“I gather that this man doesn’t want you to meet with me?”
The same hesitation.
“I guess he is afraid that our emotions will betray us…”
The poor kid had tried too hard to find a soothing answer to everything.
“Master Bruce, this man…” it was so difficult to say it with the most gentle
manner but the boy was looking eagerly in his eyes “is touching you?”
He saw the boy lowering his eyes disappointed; perhaps, he was expecting to
hear something else not such a blatant question. He left Alfred’s hand and
instead began rubbing the bedding with uneasiness.
“He cares for me, he made and still is making too many things for me” his voice
was devoid of emotion, determined “he… he helped me… he fixed my hand” he
raised his eyes to Alfred’s, seeking understanding “I have only this to give
him to thank him and if he is satisfied by this…” he sighed. “Fuck! Now I’m
speaking like the women and men in the store when they chat about their
clients” he blushed, remembering that he said ‘fuck’ in front of him. “I’m
sorry” his voice sank “my parents are ashamed of me and now you are, too…”
Alfred heard the pain in that boyish voice and it was too much; he wrapped his
hands around Bruce’s back and brought his brunette head in his chest.
“Nobody is ashamed of you, Master Bruce! Your parents would have been proud of
you and I am. Please, remember that…” now his voice was hoarse. “From the start
he was?”
Bruce nodded in his chest and Alfred bit his lip; that ‘good’ man was molesting
Bruce from his 14 years; this man was taking advantage of a poor defenseless
tortured boy; he gave him clothes and food in exchange to his innocence that
the miserable child coaxed himself he was offering willingly...
 He brushed the soft locks; how much more that boy must suffer? He pressed deep
in his throat his sigh deciding that it was best if he calmed the young man not
forcing him yet to see how cruelly that man was exploiting him; he was afraid
that facing that now would devastate his fragile young master. Besides there
were so many questions.
“If he doesn’t want you to meet me, how did you manage to come to me at the
bookstore, in the midst of your training?”
Bruce raised his head and smiled encouraged; it was evident that the youth
dreaded that he would ask him more uncomfortable questions.
“He travels a lot and when he is abroad, he has someone else to train me: him I
can fool… I know that Ra’s doesn’t permit it, but I’ve missed you so much,
Alfred – I couldn’t bear it anymore to see you from a distance and not speak to
you!”
He pressed his lips, feeling his cool eyes tearing: that boy would ruin his
training!
“I missed you, too, Master Bruce… But how… How did you get here? How did you
escape Falcone and that oaf?”
“Falcone had a very important meeting with some gangsters from other cities and
after he…” thought for a mild word “used me, they locked me in my cage and left
– the oaf"he laughed as if he hadn’t just admit that he was just molested, like
it was the most mundane thing “with him; Chill is his right hand.”
“But still… There are other people in that place and then crossing entire
Midtown… And you were inside the Manor…”
Bruce seemed amused.
“The tunnels!”
Alfred was dumbfounded.
“Entire Gotham is standing on underground caves” the boy’s eyes shone. “I
didn’t knew but one night, I saw the bats…” he took in Alfred’s  widened eyes
“my cage is in the basement – deeper - and is really a small cave and there
live many bats…” he lowered his voice “sometimes, when I feel too lonely” he
hesitated “I talk to them and they answer me” he smiled. “I’m not crazy; they
do some screeching sounds and it is like answering me…”
He felt his strength abandoning him, being on the verge of crying like a child,
hearing what his sweet boy was been through all these years; speaking to bats
and taking comfort from their ‘answers’… Dear God, show some mercy…
“Anyway” the young man continued “I watched them many times leaving from a
narrow rip between the wall and the floor and then returning from the same spot
and a night I decided to follow them – after all, even if I was stuck somewhere
and died from lack of air, big deal! But I followed the bats and I saw an
entire underground world! The whole city, Alfred! Of course, I couldn’t leave
my cage for too long and it was difficult but through the years – I was, hmmm…,
maybe eleven when I first went down – I managed to make a map of the tunnels
and caves.”
He was watching fascinated his brilliant boy.
“You made a map?”
“In my head…” he gestured to his head. “I even reached Leslie’s clinic…”
“She knows that you are alive?”
He shook his head in negation.
“I was afraid… it was too risky: if Falcone or Ra’s found out…” he shuddered
too with the fear in Bruce’s voice “but I was hearing her voice and it was like
then…” he smiled sad and Alfred took the young hand in his “as if I was again
with dad in the clinic or making fuss with Tony… Tony…” his eyes shone lively
and reminiscently “how is he doing? He must be a brilliant scientist by now” he
smiled. “He was a genius even from then and we were saying that we’d be
together at the college and…”  a knot formed in his throat from  all the things
he would have if a brutal man hadn’t ruined his life .
He stopped speaking and Alfred took a strand from his forehead and ‘combed’ it
to its place and Bruce looked him in the eyes saddened.
“Tony is a brilliant mind, Master Bruce, although he lost his parents too four
years ago” Bruce paled “he runs his father’s company expertly despite his young
age. He never forgot you, my child” he lifted his eyebrows “he comes every year
to lay flowers to your grave…”
The youth brought his fingertips to brush the tears from Alfred’s cheeks and
smiled encouragingly to his butler.
“I must leave now, Alfred…” regret was radiating from his voice and Alfred
could hear how heavily the boy’s heart was beating, as was his. “But it’s a
great distance and though I don’t have as many chores as in the past, they
still wake me up too early and Chill might…” he bit his lips for the slip.
He made to stand but Alfred grabbed his upper arms with desperation: it was too
soon…
“Will you come again, Master Bruce?” or am I just dreaming…
The boy smiled.
“Whenever I can, Alfred…”
He let Bruce stand and followed him to the spot where he found him; he showed
him how the wall opened to reveal a passage. Alfred managed to keep his cool
demeanor and only lifted his eyebrow.
“We discovered it with Tony one day playing. As I was wandering the caves
thinking how to sneak into the Manor secretly, I remembered it. It wasn’t easy
to open it; it was stuck…”
 “Wait a minute…You’ve been here other times, too?” he felt his eyes bulge.
The boy nodded.
“Yes, but I didn’t dare to wake you. I…” he dropped his gaze “my master didn’t
want me to come here…”
That awful man!
“Master Bruce, promise me that you won’t oblige blindly to everything that man
says” his agony was too much even for his ears.
Bruce patted his upper arm.
“I came to you, right?”
He wanted to ask him more questions just to delay his departure but they both
knew that he should leave. Alfred just before the boy stepped into the dark
passage cupped his cheeks and kissed him in the forehead.
“Be careful, Master Bruce…”
“I will, Alfred…” he motioned to leave but stopped “mmm, Alfred? Can you give
the biscuits you made for me to the kids in the orphanage? They don’t have
much…”
Alfred nodded and when he looked again, his boy had vanished. He was always
baking cinnamon biscuits and taking them to the orphanage, hoping that someone
would be doing the same for the little orphan boy Falcone held captive…
From that night, Alfred was spending his nights waiting anxiously and when a
night passed without Bruce coming, he was devastated, his next day a torment.
But the few nights his young master was able to break free from his captors,
Alfred was celebrating, even though he couldn’t spoil the boy with food and
desserts; and the day that followed was a day of hope, of recharged energy, of
dreams that soon Bruce would be constantly there, that he’d be able to offer
him all those things he was deprived of.
As every night that this happy little sound of the wall opening reached his
ears, he ran to the corridor through the semi darkness. But tonight young
master Wayne didn’t wait for him to come; he rushed to him and hugged him
desperately sinking the butler’s heart in a dark abyss. His boy hid his head in
the butler’s chest and Alfred felt him shaking, trembling yet not crying.
He tried to make the young man stood to go to his room, but his boy clenched on
him more, so Alfred walked slowly, caressing the brunette head soothingly, till
his half dark room. Without trying to detach the distraught young man, he sat
on his bed after helping Bruce sat.
“I’m here now, Master Bruce, you are not alone; tell me what happened…” he
braced himself for what he might hear, what dreadful things they had done to
his boy to render him in such condition.
Bruce raised his head and looked at him, his eyes almost dead.
“I’m a fool, Alfred…” he whispered his voice raspy. “Falcone and Chill are
right to say that I’m just a… my only usefulness is to be…” he bit his lip and
he hushed.
Alfred caressed his locks from his forehead and realized that they were
drenched in sweat; with dread he also distinguished different human smells,
different sweats and other… things on his boy. Dear God… he rubbed soothingly
his back, thankful he was sitting because he felt his legs trembling.
“You are not a fool, my dear boy, you are not…”
“I believed him…” his voice shook and now that his eyes were adjusted to the
semi darkness he could see how pale Bruce was “I believed he wanted to help me
but he…”
“What, Master Bruce?” he whispered.
“He won’t let me go!” his head sank again into the haven of the butler’s chest.
“He doesn’t want justice, he won’t save Gotham: he’ll destroy the city and kill
all the people…’’ the youth was shaking and Alfred tightened his embrace,
closing his eyes in despair.
“And what he says he plans to do with you?”
Bruce lifted his head and his sparkling again eyes pierced his with terror.
“He said to me today that he’ll have me execute Falcone and then he’ll take me
with him… to have me all the time to himself…”
Now the shivering in the young body was something that panicked Alfred, like
the youth was suffering a severe case of hypothermia. He understood the boy’s
terror, it was what he was feeling, too; all the hopes this tortured soul
nurtured all these years burned in an instant by the horrible man saying that
would free him from Falcone only to make him his slave: the truth all these
years he was hiding from the poor kid. Shamelessly, sadistic spat to the
trusting boy that he played with his need for kindness, his need for affection,
that he was mocking him…
He hugged his boy hopelessly and rocked him slowly, soothingly as if he was
still eight years old and was crying; his lips softly kissing his hair. But
despite his suffering, Bruce was unable to shed tears, so he did it for him.
However, on sensing him crying, Bruce raised his face. His tired eyes were
determined and his lips in a tight line, his jaw set.
“Alfred, please don’t cry…” he said half pleading, half instructing. “We’ll
leave this city” he smiled encouraging to his butler and Alfred felt rather odd
as if they had changed places. “We’ll go to Tony…”
He brushed with his fingertips the youth’s cold cheeks.
“And there is your mother’s fortune waiting for you in a vault in Switzerland…
You won’t be deprived of anything from now on, Master Bruce; all these will
become only a bad memory, a fading nightmare.”
Bruce kissed the back of his palm.
“There is a bus that leaves Gotham every Friday after midnight for Smallville.”
“Why not taking a flight to Malibu? Or informing Tony to come for us?”
Bruce shook his head; it was incredible how fast the young man recovered from
his panic state.
“Because Tony hearing that I’m alive, will rush here and things would turn to
hell for everyone; we can’t take a plane because the airport is too far from
the cabaret and there’s no midnight flight to Malibu and I can’t break out
other hour, besides it’ll be easier for you to confuse them during the night.
From Smallville we can continue for another small town till we reach Malibu;
it’ll take time but this way we’ll be able to confuse them to believe that we
won’t go there.”
“How do you know all these things, since that man admitted these things to you
only today?”
“I always thought about escaping all these, but I was afraid the failure and
what it will bring… Now I’m trained and I can pass undetected and defend myself
and you… and now I know that he won’t help me so I must take the risk, if I
want to have a chance. So I’ve been searching the Net with Selina’s laptop…”
Alfred frowned.
“Master Bruce, I’m not sure that a female bat can have a laptop…”
“A female bat?” the youth laughed light hearted. “No, Alfred, Selina isn’t a
bat – oh! I made you think that I’m nuts! She is a girl, Alfred; she is my best
friend. She is an orphan, she found me a year after my parents died… and she
knew who I am. She remained close to me all these years!”
Bruce’s eyes were sparkling at the mention of this young lady and Alfred was
grateful to her not only because she supported his boy when he couldn’t but
also because she was the reason he forgot his despair.
“Every Friday at midnight Falcone and Chill meet with Falcone’s ‘lieutenants’
for reporting and assignments; it’s the only night I am locked in my cage
early. The bus stop is near your favorite bookstore and we can meet in the back
alley and take the bus at the last minute…”
His boy’s eyes were glistening with a new hope, on the prospect of a new life
away from his tormentors… His voice was jubilant, trying to give courage to him
as well. He patted his shoulder.
“Imagine Tony’s surprise, when he sees me… And then we can tell the whole world
what Falcone did and what Al Ghul is planning.”
They made the final arrangements about the exact time they’d meet and Alfred
reluctantly let the boy return to Falcone’s hell.
The four days till Friday were a torture peaking at the said day. He didn’t
withdraw any money even from ATMs because he was almost sure that they were
watching him and such a move though common might raise suspicions. He didn’t
have a new visit from Bruce all these nights but he reassured himself that it
was for the best to not risk till the arranged appointment.
When the hour that he usually went to bed came that night, Alfred turned off
the lights and headed for his bedroom, closing the door and then the bed lamp.
He waited some minutes to pass and opened slowly and soundlessly the window and
descended with the ledge’s help to the grass, swallowing his gasps and wheezes
– thank God, his room was on the first floor and facing the back yard and thank
God, his legs were strong enough to take him to the highway leading to the
city, where he hoped to find a taxi or a kind enough driver to pick him up;
there was no chance he’d risk driving the Rolls, making sound and drawing
attention.
It was unbelievable that the car that stopped to pick him was driven by Lucius
Fox who lifted an eyebrow recognizing Alfred.
“Aren’t you a little old for hitchhiking, especially when you have a splendid
Rolls in your parking?” he asked with his light yet knowing way.
Alfred trusted Lucius but he didn’t want to speak now; it would need much time
and he didn’t have any. The only reason his heart wasn’t kicking in his chest
was his immaculate butler training.
He sighed.
“The Rolls suddenly broke down and I had to go to the city immediately…”
Lucius' disbelief was more than evident in his clever eyes but the polite man
didn’t insist.
“So much for the infamous handmade cars…” he just remarked and it was as if
saying ‘do I look so stupid?’
“Those Germans ruined the brand…” he went along. “I’m keeping you from
something?”
Lucius smiled.
“Good old Miss Ramsy has a friendly gathering at her Manor and I’m invited, you
weren’t?” he inquired curious.
He was, the invitation envelope unopened in the living room’s small table.
“I wasn’t in the mood…”
“Where do you want me to drop you?”
“At Amsterdam’s Avenue.”
“So close to the Narrows?” the clever man asked and Alfred could hear the
wheels in that brilliant mind moving frantic.
He waited a few minutes till Lucius’ car was out of his sight and headed to the
back alley where Bruce was to meet him. He was afraid… it was very dangerous to
be in such place, such an hour, his only console that this street was actually
very livid during the night hours with bars and restaurants, so criminal
activities were rare there. But still he had his small revolver ready…
However, as the hours passed and his boy was nowhere to be seen, his heart was
gradually sunk in deeper depths, so much that he wished for a mugger to kill
him instead of returning to that haunted Manor, knowing that something dreadful
had happened to his young master…
When the first lights of dawn came, he gulped, every slight hope that was still
alive in his heart - because his mind was already resigned – died and he
dragged his legs to the nearest night club where cubs waited and took one to
the Manor, ordering him to follow the back line. He ascended to his window even
harder than before and sank to the mattress.
“Bruce, my dear boy…” he hid his face in his hands and cried his despair. They
caught him and now they were torturing him or maybe killing him… It was a
reliving of that night twelve years ago, why…
The days went by in silence, no sign of his boy; they killed him, it was
certain… And then he learnt about Master Anthony’s kidnapping from terrorists
and watched him almost dead in a video: he could not die, too…
But in a couple of days, a cheerful Tony Stark descended the stairs of his jet,
beaming for his victory over the terrorists, and Alfred sighed in relief: at
least, Master Anthony was still alive…  He called the young man, though their
relationships were almost hostile, and Master Anthony didn’t hang up on him and
Alfred was happy that the young man had still some of his old love for him.
But then the thought of Bruce’s beautiful young body dead, tortured and
horribly disfigured lying in the bottom of Gotham’s River, eaten by the fish,
pierced his heart…
Till one day, two weeks later, he saw the youth again. He didn’t have any signs
of torture although he was sure that he had been brutally punished. Yet his
face was tense, his eyes determined.
“We need Lucius Fox to implement the plan” he repeated after Alfred took a
blood sample from his vein worried hearing that the youth had some strange
symptoms and sure that none of these men cared to use a condom  – that syringe
long forgotten in his jacket from the first day Bruce came to him again.
“Do you want me to bring him to the Manor to meet him?”
“No, unless you pretend to be a couple…’’ he laughed and Alfred felt his blood
becoming again warm in his veins.
“Young man!” he said mock sternly but the boy kept laughing carefree.
“I thought so… Lucius is the only one they don’t suspect: they don’t know how
close the man was to us so they don’t have him under surveillance. He is the
only one that can help us.”
“What do you want me to do, Master Wayne?”
“Nothing, Alfred; just wait and have courage; I’ll take care of everything…”
Alfred nodded, new energy flooding him, new hope recharging his heart.
***** Chapter 14 *****
“I’m a car expert, a journalist specialized in everything concerning cars and I
say there’s nothing interesting in the market anymore.”
The man at his mid-thirties told his fellow attendant at GCPD’s annual fund
raising event. He smiled benevolently and sipped his whiskey. They were
standing outside the main entrance of the Intercontinental Hotel at the banquet
hall of which the event was taking place.
“You didn’t really expect to see something interesting in the police’s ball” he
lifted an eyebrow “really, man! That event is the most boring of the year –
even former Commissionaire Loeb never attended; you know: to keep pretenses.
Who comes? Bad paid officers and their relatives. The only good cars you’ll see
are those of the two Mayor campaigners… I came just to cover their statements
and then I’ll run to some night club. To see you here was a great surprise.”
The man shrugged.
“Barbara Gordon, the Commissionaire’s wife, is my cousin, I happened to be in
the city and she invited me… You know how it is with relatives… But what I was
saying about cars has nothing to do with the event and the attendants – we are
at one of the luxurious hotels of the city with a roof garden restaurant which
attracts the local rich and famous.” He grimaced with disappointment “Is
general.’’
“Bah?”
He nodded and sipped from his glass.
“I just came from Geneva’s International Auto Show where the biggest Industries
presented their newest and supposedly most impressive models.” He grimaced.
“Laborghini, Rolls, Maserati, Jaguars, Porche… you name it; nothing…” he
erected his thumb and then turned it down . “Nothing interesting. I tell you
the car that’ll impress me just doesn’t exist. Boooring…” he shook his head in
disappointment. “There’s no car that will make me goggle and gape…”
He stayed with his mouth half opened to finish his phrase but he forgot
everything, when in front of them a roaring beast approached graciously the
hotel’s entrance. It was sleek black with aerodynamic shape with smooth
beautiful curves at the rear that soothed and mesmerized the spectators till
the angry headlights pierced them frowning menacingly, causing a shiver from an
unexplained sense of danger and aggresiveness… Smooth and sharp at the same
time: beauty, mystery and power.
The car expert like a paralyzed man upturned his thump. At his side the other
guest just closed his own mouth.
“Wow! You’re right, Matt: dat car doesn’t exist!”
“I didn’t imagine that Gotham hid such treasure…” Matt whispered awed. “Its
owner must be a very dynamic personality to harness such a beautiful and
dangerous beast: 2,000 hp! It’s like riding a wild horse – 2,000 wild horses!
Twin turbo engine, top speed 270Km/h plus… Powerful and sexy…”
“Which brand? I can’t see a trademark” the other inquired and the man shook his
head in negation, smiling.
“This car is one of a kind, no industry made otherwise I’d have known it. I’m
sure that car is handmade or short of…”
The other whistled in admiration.
“Seven hundred grands?”
“No, my friend, that car is priceless. I assure you the one that drives it is
very special, a real badass…”
The car stopped gently before the awestruck valet and many people that were at
the hotel’s foyer stormed outside to have a better look.
“I see a white-platinum ‘W’ on its bumper…” the man remarked to the car expert
and realization flashed on the man’s face.
“Son of a bitch! Stark made it for…”
But before he spoke, the door from the driver’s side opened smoothly and Bruce
Wayne stepped out graciously to the crowd’s surprise and awe; he had already
pressed the ‘P’ icon for parking on the small rectangular screen on the car’s
panel. The young man gazed for an instant at the clear night sky as if he’d
sensed something and was searching for it and then returned his eyes to the
approaching valet who was breathless.
The driver was a perfect match to the impressive car; his immaculate tailored
suit highlighting his body’s carefully chiseled muscles. His locks shone to the
abundant lighting of the hotel’s entrance.
Matt, the car expert, despite his astonishment managed to remember his iPhone
and started taking pictures.
“Good thing that gadget has almost professional camera – the newspaper will be
thrilled…”
The other man jolted as if waking from a dream, he rushed to his own phone.
“You’re right! Vicky Vale will be furious! She is trying so long to catch a
glimpse of the sad prince and I take the price… randomly!” he laughed
triumphantly.
The valet hurried to Bruce drooling to take the keys to park the car. Bruce
smiled warmly to him and gave him a generous tip.
“The keys, sir?”
“There’s no need; it’ll park itself…”
The boy’s face sank.
“I’d pay for driving it…”
Bruce smiled broader.
“Me, too, my friend…” he couldn’t tell him that the car could be driven only by
him, or Tony, because it had a fingerprints’ recognition system on his door and
wheel that blocked everything when the fingertips didn’t match its owner’s.
Matt, the car expert, sighed and resumed taking pictures of the driver alone.
“Those saying that he is breathtaking from up close are right… I tell you, I’m
100% straight but for this boy I’d change my principles…”
The other laughed.
“Then you’re not 100% straight; you’re 99% straight and 1% Bruce Wayne! Excuse
me…”
He ran to the hotel’s entrance hoping to take a statement from the elusive
Prince to accompany the pictures, missing the car’s lonely walk to the parking
lot that made Matt gape even more frantically shooting every second.
Superman was watching from a rooftop opposite the hotel, unnoticed as he
thought but hurrying to hide behind the wall when Bruce raised his gaze. He had
gone to the Manor to explain to his friend his failure to catch Chechen that
day and maybe the kiss with Lois – 72 hours had passed from that day and Bruce
didn’t call… He wanted to explain about the kiss yet he was afraid that the man
would stop him because he didn’t care. But he felt the need to clarify things
so that Bruce doesn’t think that he didn’t mean what he had told him then at
the graveyard…
But upon arriving at the Manor grounds – not too close, because Batman had
installed security that could detect even him – he heard him and Alfred
discussing about the GCPD’s ball. Maybe there he’d find an opportunity to talk
to him. So he waited to see Alfred’s silver Rolls taking his Star to the city,
but instead he saw a black car – no, not a car, a wonder – leaving the Wayne
grounds carrying Bruce. He had seen the young man entering the black thunder
that strongly reminded him of Batman but after that he wasn’t able to catch
even a glimpse of him or his vitals – damn Stark! He certainly had lead plunged
in the car’s walls.
He only had a fleeting image of the dress up Bruce, because his Star stormed
out of the Manor and into the car in a flash, eager to drive his new car – it
was a gift after all and the poor baby was almost all his life deprived of any
present. Even the windows and the windshield were impenetrable by human or…
alien eyes – the image of a smirking Stark tortured his mind’s eye.
 So when Bruce emerged all grace and charm from the car, the light blue glow
from the interior lighting of the car still caressing his features, he just
gaped as the men and women in and outside the hotel did.
It was as if the spotlights of the entrance had lost their light in the glow
that young man emanated. He manifested confidence and an air of easiness which
was only one part of what he was feeling, because Superman could detect his
nervousness and how tense he was; truly, Bruce and Batman. His face was
brighter than the moon when he smiled warmly to the awed – only from the car
Superman hoped – valet, Bruce’s beautiful eyes sparkling.
And those clothes… Perfectly tailored as if the cottons and the silkworms had
from the start the intention to dress that body; the smooth fabric shining
discreetly but charmingly with every tiny movement he made, stressing the
strong and artistic painted muscles and that black jacket had exactly the
length to cover and not cover the enticing buttocks under the fitting smooth
fabric, just to arouse the watcher for more… Superman sighed and felt his face
hot.
And then he felt a lava of envy for the tailor who surely measured that body
from too close and was so impressed by his Star’s body to create THAT suit that
was a cry to assault. If he had the power, he’d forbid Bruce to employ the same
tailor again, or, since forbiding Bruce to do something was perhaps impossible,
would ask with his Superman charm the tailor to not work for Bruce Wayne again:
who was he kidding? Which tailor wouldn’t want to work with a man like this?
As the young man made some steps to the entrance that was already packed with
people, some of them journalists who were here for the Mayor candidates, was
evident that those clothes were wicked, enchanted; they looked like obsessed
lovers never leaving the beloved body but staying glued on him…
“Mr. Wayne, you’ll spend your evening at the hotel’s fabulous roof garden
restaurant?”
“No, Mr. Knox” the journalist goggled surprised by Bruce’s use of his name “I’m
here for GCPD’s annual ball.”
Superman’s eyes glistened; the GCPD’s ball. If he had known sooner, he’d
informed Lois and they could have covered Bruce’s first night among Gotham’s
society… He bit his lip: he wasn’t sure if being here with Lois would help his
case on persuading Bruce that the kiss wasn’t something serious.
Oh! He tightened his fist in frustration! If he surged right now and grabbed
Bruce Wayne in his embrace and took him to his Fortress, would be considered a
kidnapping? He’d take him there and rip those blasphemous, mocking him clothes
and dress Bruce’s body only with his own body, adorning his soft, porcelain
flesh with his kisses, taking his nipples in his mouth and make them hard and
proud, adoring Bruce’s body in such a way that would prove to the young man
that his breathtaking body isn’t cripple in any way…
“You’re drooling, Mister…”
No, no, no! Not Stark! … And he was indeed drooling… He turned angry to the
billionaire that was in Ironman suit, only his face visible but the man had
approached the roof’s edge and was looking at the commotion, his creation
slowly moving to the parking lot.
The billionaire shook his head smirking triumphantly.
“I wouldn’t have missed those buffoons’ reactions for anything… Oh! Look at
these guys; they don’t know where to look first, at the car or the driver!”
Engrossed as both of them were on the hotel’s entrance didn’t sense two pairs
of privy eyes which were watching too from the penthouse of a neighbor
building.
Talia Al Ghul with her long arms folded on her chest was looking focused at
Bruce Wayne and the disturbance he created, while at her side the masked man
followed her gaze, his frustration radiating despite the fact his entire face
and head, except the eyes, was covered with black silk.
“He is really gorgeous…” Talia dragged her words with an admiring, chilling
smile, her eyes estimating. “No wonder my father was infatuated with him,
although Bruce was almost three decades younger than him… What’s your opinion,
Bane?” she inquired the man without acknowledging him “After all, you had a
very intimate experience with him courtesy of my father…” her voice was
sarcastic.
Bane scoffed.
“Your father wanted to punish him; I didn’t desire him” Talia lifted an eyebrow
half smirking knowingly “He is a whore so I did it, since your father ordered
it!”
She turned and pierced him with her sharp mocking stare.
“And?”
The man’s eyes flashed with annoyance.
“It was a task, a punishment; I’d rather whipped him till skin him alive… but
that was more painful to him.”
Talia nodded, although not persuaded.
“Why don’t you go there to meet him?” Bane asked when the young woman turned to
the window. “I know you crave to see him up close…”
She didn’t answer just gestured to the roof where Superman and Ironman were
hotly discussing. Talia sniggered.
“And there are our friends! Oh! Superman is lovesick, despite the kiss with
Lane; he’d be an easy victim when Bruce is ours again…” her voice dropped some
octaves taking a really dangerous color. “And Stark will do whatever we want,
if he knows that his beloved friend is in our hands – he owes us a weapon…”
“Only Batman isn’t here…”
She lifted her eyebrow.
“But it’s too early in the night… And I’m sure he has more important things to
do than goggling at a brat.”
“Do you think that Wayne is the Batman?”
She shrugged.
“Only father knew that, if he knew… But it would have been fascinating, don’t
you think?” she smiled cunningly. “That would prove how right father was for
his value…”
“What do you have in mind for him?”
She shook her head, her eyes unfocused.
“Oh! So many things…”
Tony having enjoyed the stunned expression of the Gothamites turned to
Superman.
“What are you doing here stalking Bruce?” he demanded. “Go to your girlfriend!”
Of course, Stark would exploit this. He felt irritated; why this arrogant fool
gets to be so close to Bruce while he was kept in distance? It wasn’t fair… He
fisted his hands.
“I want to speak to him.”
The billionaire lifted an annoying eyebrow, his eyes jeering.
“You want a harem? There’s nothing to say to him. I’m happy he didn’t take
seriously what you said to him.”
Superman’s eyes widened.
“He told you what I said to him?!”
Tony tilted his head.
“Bruce would never yet is so easy to imagine… I love you, Bruce, I can make you
happy, I can make you heal, forget…” he mocked Clark’s deep, caring voice.
“Good thing he didn’t fall for that…”
“That kiss wasn’t…” Superman said before thinking to whom he was talking .
Tony sniggered.
“Honey, is not what you think it is… Oh! I have said it at least a hundred
times and always ended up to a slap and a shut in the face door. And I don’t
want Bruce smashing his hand on your stupid face!”
Superman glowered at him from his superior height yet Stark didn’t loosen his
threatening demeanor.
“You’re judging from yourself: because you play with people you think that I’m
doing the same!”
“I may be a playing bastard but I’d never play with the sensitive emotions of a
tortured being!” his voice was shaking with affection through his gritted
teeth.
Superman lifted an eyebrow, his eyes shining with sarcasm.
“Is that why you didn’t throw yourself at him already?” he smirked throwing up
his entire frustration.
He saw the billionaire’s eyes bulge and his face turning pale. Stark didn’t
even bother to answer him.
“Leave Bruce alone; he suffered enough from people: give him a chance to heal
and find true love…”
Tony wasn’t pleading, wanted to sound menacing but he realized that he didn’t.
Yet Superman closed his eyes defeated and took off, his heart beating with
Bruce’s heartbeat.
Tony cursed and turned his gaze back to the hotel but Bruce was already inside
as the mob that had gathered, although he saw news vans just arriving and
stopping to the street facing the hotel. He shook his head amused and took off
too.
Bruce under the shocked eyes of the girl on the desk at the ball room’s
entrance – who in the middle of a dead boring evening saw suddenly a young man
approaching chased by a pack of hungry journalists  - paid the fee and a
generous tip to the girl and walked inside the huge, plain hall, decorated with
elegance and solemnity (as the hotel’s fame), beautiful round tables with
classy chairs, a dance floor where a few couples were dancing under the slow
rhythms the orchestra played and a podium for the officials’ speeches.
There weren’t many people except from the officers and their dates or
relatives, even the Mayor candidates had left for the hotel’s roof garden
restaurant after a short passing, mumbling some hasty, bored cliches.
Bruce lifted an eyebrow and pressed his lips; even though the law returned to
Gotham its workers still weren’t much appreciated. He registered Lucius Fox and
Mr. Fredericks already seated at a table and nodded to them. But before going
there he walked to the place, a corner actually, where temporary Commissionaire
Gordon was speaking to his officers, Bullock and Montoya,  and… Harvey Dent.
The young man smiled; of course, that special law enforcer wouldn’t pass the
opportunity to honor the heroes that uprooted Falcone’s empire.
He approached, his cohort of journalists at his heels, and Harvey was the first
to see him, since he was facing the hall. He smiled warmly to the Wayne heir
and Jim turned to see to whom that smile was send. Upon seeing the approaching
young man, he hurried to shake hands with him.
“Mr. Wayne, thank you very much for coming; it was a very pleasant surprise.
And I want to thank you for talking to the hotel owner to give us this hall:
it’s the first time our ball takes place to such an esteemed hotel.”
Bruce’s eyes sank; he didn’t want Jim to know that he had talked to the owner.
Yet he smiled.
“You’re a great detective, Commissionaire.”
“It wasn’t that difficult” Bullock intervened and Bruce shook hands with him
and Montoya as well. “Copplebot didn’t even want to speak with us and suddenly
he calls Jim and not only gives the hall but also the food free of charge. “For
our finest”… Bullshits! And there aren’t many rich in Gotham who care about the
police!”
Jim frowned at his detective’s outburst.
“I was so obvious, then…” Bruce blushed.
“Actually, this is a good think, Mr. Wayne” a woman in her mid forties told him
from Jim’s side.
“What you offered in exchange?” asked blatantly Detective Montoya.
 “Nothing important – I just told Mr. Copplebot that I was intending to visit
his hotel’s roof garden. But what I wanted to say is that I am who must thank
you for everything you and your officers did for me: weren’t for you, I’d be
dead now…”
Jim blushed a bit and smiled restrained.
“You mean Batman.”
But Bruce shook his head.
“I mean you. You and your officers are the true heroes for remaining loyal to
the law all these years of calamity. I’m grateful” he bowed his head, knowing
that his words and motion was captured by the few journalists that were already
in the place and some new who their number increased rapidly with every minute
that passed.
“Very inspiring, Mr. Wayne” Harvey intervened, since Jim was a bit stunned and
Bruce shook hands with him too. “I hope we have your support throughout our
difficult effort to keep Gotham a law abiding city.”
Bruce smiled and his eyes sparkled.
“You can count on that, Mr. Dent; Gotham needs men like you and Commissionaire
Gordon” he didn’t want to state clearly that he desired their election and
appointment respectively because that would be a raw involvement to the city’s
newborn liberty.
Jim took a not so gently kick on the shin from his wife and blushing turned to
Bruce.
“Mr. Wayne, I’d like to introduce you my wife, Barbara.”
He shook gently the lady’s hand and smiled warmly.
“It’s an honor meeting you, madam.”
“For me too, Mr. Wayne, I was so happy when I learnt that you are alive!” Jim
rolled a bit his eyes “I wanted for a long time now to give you my best wishes 
and to assure you that you have Gotham’s citizens’ love” she said in a breath
but she was so sincere that Bruce felt at ease despite the fact there were
gradually more people in the hall, staring at him.
“Thank you, Ms. Gordon; that means a lot for me.”
The woman smiled benevolently and brushed his upper arm in a motherly way that
Bruce appreciated, although Jim’s eyebrows almost reached his hair line, making
Harvey smile amused.
Bruce wanted to make his donation yet he considered that it’d be better to make
that gesture when more people would be there, hoping to inspire more to make
the same.
“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Fox and Mr. Fredericks over there await me and it’ll
be an honor for us if you come to our table.”
“Why not, eh Jim?” Ms. Gordon nudged her husband and he complied, Harvey
following them.
They exchanged greetings and handshakes and the Gordons and Harvey stayed for a
couple of minutes before the return of Anthony Garcia first and Armand Krol
later – the campaigners for Mayor - made them excuse themselves to re-welcome
them.
Lucius laughed.
“Mr. Wayne, your presence here created quite a riot as you see – good thing we
have so many police officers here. You ‘ruined’ our candidates’ night at the
roof garden…”
“I can see them scanning the hall to find you…” Douglas Fredericks remarked. “A
handshake with you can make the difference to the elections’ result.”
Bruce shook his head thoughtful.
“I just wanted to support the new police force and Gordon’s leadership; I’m
glad that my presence was of some help to them…”
Lucius lifted an eyebrow, looking the hall under his thick eyebrows; he
smirked.
“From the number of the tables that were occupied since your arrival and the
crowd in the ticket table I can affirm that you achieved your purpose.”
“They rush to see the exhibit…” Bruce mumbled annoyed and Fredericks frowned.
The hotel manager had provided the best possible menu for the GCPD’s ball,
which would have been a surprise if you didn't know that Bruce Wayne talked
Copplebot into supporting the event with the best possible way. Bruce still
hadn’t the proper knowledge about restaurant dishes so he trusted Lucius to
order his dinner.
Both the campaigners came together to greet the Wayne heir – probably, they
came to a deal for this in the context of a civilized campaign. Bruce smirked
imagining the candidate Mayors running and pushing each other to reach him
first.
Both of them introduced themselves and shook hands with the Prince of Gotham
and the other two men under the constant flashes of cameras and Bruce, trying
not to laugh with all these, wished both good luck and asked them to cooperate
for Gotham’s well being.
When they left, thankfully the crowd – now – of journalists followed them as if
showing some respect to the youth’s need for air and some discreet for his
first night on the city, so Bruce was able to eat a little even if Mr.
Fredericks had to urge him to do it. The food was good and Bruce managed to
relax a bit, especially when Harvey returned to their table, beaming.
“The people attending police’s ball have surpassed any previous record – GCPD
will manage to afford new bullet proof vests and ammunition; Loeb has left the
officers naked” the youngest DA in Gotham’s history said, taking the glass of
wine Lucius offered him.
“There was no need for Loeb to spend money for the officers when he was
building his villa in Beverly Hills” Bruce remarked raising an eyebrow “Tony
told me. And there was no chance that the police would ever confront the mob,
right?”
Harvey smiled.
“Definitely. But now all these will change” Harvey’s eyes were solemn.
“We all hope so, Mr. Dent” Fredericks said while Bruce’s intense eyes were
focused on Harvey’s radiating with energy face. “This city and we, the
citizens, have had enough of this!”
Harvey leaned on his chair’s back.
“Then I assume that I’ll have your support till the new DA is elected?”
Bruce leaned forward.
“And for more time…”
Harvey looked him puzzled.
“I think that you’re a great man of the law and you love Gotham” he gestured to
the air “so why not running for DA in the elections?”
Harvey lowered his eyes flattered.
“I… It’s very honoring your trust, Mr. Wayne…”
“Bruce.”
Harvey raised his eyes and smiled.
“Bruce. But I don’t know yet... If the citizens will… Anyway, for the time
being we have more urgent matters; those ‘lieutenants’ of Falcone who still are
free, surely plotting to have their way with the city.”
“Oh! You must be Harvey Dent!” a cheerful female voice interrupted their
discussion and everyone at the table, Harvey first, turned his eyes on the
voice’s direction.
It was a young woman at Harvey’s age not more than 5’5’’ with juicy curves
highlighted by her loose fitted, long sleeved light blue muslin dress and sweet
round face. Her shining eyes were brown, a little lighter than her brown-red
jaw-length hair and she had a very pleasant smile brushing her face.
“Rachel Dawes. Of course, you don’t remember me: I was at the same year with
you at Harvard’s law school.”
Harvey seemed delighted although probably even now didn’t remember the young
woman. He smiled and rose to shake hands with her and the other men of the
table did the same.
“It is a very pleasant surprise to meet a fellow student, especially one as
charming as you, Miss Dawes.”
She blushed and returned the smile with an even broader.
“Now you’re exaggerating, Mr. Dent…”
“Please call me Harvey.”
“Rachel, then.”
Bruce felt that he should invite the girl, although he was hesitant to disrupt
their exchange.
“Miss Dawes, will you join us?” he asked.
The young woman turned to him still smiling with the same sweet way and her
beautiful eyes widened.
“Oh! Mr. Wayne, how nice you’re here tonight! I always wanted to meet you: I
watched the trial and your testimony and it was…” the smile vanished from her
rosy cheeks and she sighed shaking her head in disbelief “you’re the bravest
man in the world.”
“Hardly… I did only what I had to do, Miss Dawes…” he answered with a knot in
his throat. “I almost forgot… Mr. Lucius Fox and Mr. Douglas Fredericks,
esteemed members of the Wayne Enterprises’ board.”
“Delighted to meet you, Miss Dawes” Lucius shook gently her hand and gave her
one of his charming smiles.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Dawes” Mr. Fredericks took his turn with his solemn
tone.
Bruce saw amused Harvey hurrying to stand up to offer a chair to Miss Dawes and
he pressed his lips in a half smile as he did every time he saw normal people
flirting.
After the lady sat the men of the table did the same and Harvey again caught
everyone else in offering a glass to Miss Dawes and filling it with white wine.
“It must be fascinating to be entrusted with the law enforcement in a city like
Gotham” she said to everyone but her eyes were on Harvey.
“Fascinating and terrifying…” Harvey laughed “but I’ll do my best with the
assistance of good people like our friends here.”
She shrugged and her soft shoulder escaped the fine muslin of the wide oval
neck of her dress.
“The man who convicted Falcone, Gotham’s Emperor, has nothing to be afraid of”
she replied.
“Falcone’s conviction was a team work, many people had a crucial part in this
and with Mr. Wayne’s testimony only a complete incompetent lawyer would have
failed to convict that man.”
“How modest!” her eyes sparkled yet Bruce detected something of an irony in her
low voice.
“You work as a lawyer, Miss Dawes?” Lucius asked.
She giggled.
“Not exactly; you see I can’t even bear the mention of crimes. That is the
reason I always support police departments – I’m of faint heart.” For some
reason Bruce doubted that “I’m Jack Napier's legal representative.”
Bruce’s eyes darkened and a shadow was cast over his face.
“The comedian who won an Oscar last year for a comic role?” Mr. Fredericks
asked. “My niece has a crush on him…”
Rachel smiled.
“He is charming, yeah. We came to Gotham four days ago. But I see that Mr.
Wayne doesn’t seem to like him” she remarked her cunning eyes scrutinizing the
young man.
“Who reasonable man does?” Mr. Fredericks commented dry with his grave tone and
Lucius chuckled.
“Oh! Jackie is eccentric but he has a good heart; his blatant honesty and
impetuosity make him a very misunderstood personality – actually, he wanted to
come here tonight to state his admiration to the people of the order, but” she
sighed “he has his show to prepare.”
“Fortunately…” Bruce whispered.
 “But why? He likes you so much, Mr. Wayne…” her voice was almost pleading and
Bruce looked her puzzled.
The break time the Gotham’s journalists granted him seemed to end when a young
woman at her late twenties strutted to their table, dashing in an expensive
dress and proud; Bruce recognized the most famous reporter in the city, Vicky
Vale.
“Good evening, Mr. Wayne!” she greeted cheerfully, offered her hand and those
sitting at the table saw a flock of reporters rushing there to listen to the
exchange.
“Good evening, Miss Vale” Bruce stood and took her hand.
The reporter smiled vainly.
“So, you know my name?”
“Who doesn’t in Gotham?” he replied; at least Miss Vale wasn’t one of the
sycophants journalists in Falcone’s payroll and her success was something of a
surprise during his rule.
“We have started to think that you’d never honor Gotham’s social life as you
did with Malibu” her eyebrow rose sarcastic “I guess too many bad memories to
confront…”
Bruce as everyone else took the hint.
“Too many issues demand my attention so it is difficult to me to indulge my
social part…”
“And I imagine that you wanted to watch closely Falcone’s trial; by the way,
what’s your opinion about the verdict and the sentence?”
“First, I didn’t watch the trial – Mr. Dent and the judicial system have my
absolute trust. As for the verdict and the sentence, I think that justice is
served: this man won’t hurt anyone again.”
“Do you think?” she smirked. “I’d expect from someone who saw this man killing
his parents and then experienced horrific abuse by the same man during his
entire life to want him dead…”
Bruce smiled self confidently and shook his head.
“If you have already all the answers, then why ask me?” he saw the arrogant
reporter getting pale “Now if you’ll excuse me…”
Lucius was smiling amused with Vale’s expression with Fredericks piercing the
young woman with his wise stare, while Rachel was following with her intrigued
eyes Bruce’s form approaching Commissionaire Gordon who ascended to the podium.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please; Mr. Wayne has an announcement to
make.”
Everyone in the hall that now seemed too small for that crowd hushed to listen,
curious stares looking at him openly now, giving up their pretense of randomly
finding him in their vision range.
Bruce ascended with the ease and grace of a born and raised prince to the
podium, his eyes centering confidently to the people of the hall, his imposing
gorgeous posture magnetizing everyone.
“I won’t occupy your time with many words” he smiled shyly “I’m no good with
words, after all. I’d like to express in public my gratitude to Gotham’s
finest, Commissionaire Jim Gordon and his heroic men and women who stood their
ground throughout all these time of illegality and Falcone’s cruel rule in this
tormented city. These people remained devoted to the law, even though mob’s
will became the regulation.” His fingers were fisted behind the podium’s wood
and he nervously clenched and unclenched them, trying to give the same pace to
his racing heartbeat. “They sacrificed much, they risked even more but they
kept their decency and humanity, waiting for the right moment to free their
beloved city and their fellow citizens. Moreover, I’d like to express my
gratitude to them for saving my life and delivering justice for my murdered
parents. Therefore I declare my support to the new GCPD Jim Gordon personally
formed and my faith that with them Gotham would finally find peace and
prosperity. To that end, GCPD will need our tangible moral and material support
and I, the most benefited by these people, donate to GCPD five hundred thousand
dollars and bullet proof vests for every officer.”
A stunned silence fell to the hall, everyone gaping at Bruce Wayne’s solemn
proud face but those who were more shocked were the officers and their
relatives: so much money the police balls didn’t gather in their entire
history.
Jim, however, caught the young man’s pointed stare and moved to stand at his
side for him to hand the check of the five hundred thousand dollars,
straightening awkward his glasses on his nose and trying not looking at the
numbers on the piece of paper. The young man smiled and shook his trembling
hand, while cameras flashed.
“Well” the humble man stutter “thank you very much, Mr. Wayne: your praise and
your generous gesture mean a lot for us…”
“I’m sure you’ll make the best use of this money to ensure Gotham’s happy
future. You have the best wishes of all of us and our gratefulness” he
applauded and immediately Fox, Fredericks and Harvey did the same.
Soon the entire hall was vibrating from the applause and many thick wallets
approached Jim to make their donations, giving Bruce the chance to slip
unnoticed to the hotel’s vast foyer and then to the patio behind the
receptionist’s desk.
He hurriedly loosened his tie, his heartbeat almost frantic, his breath a
stampede, some sweat drops on his forehead.
“He’s made to be fucked” the Russian told drunk to Falcone who was beaming
under the blinding lights of Wayne Manor’s chandeliers the night he opened the
Manor again to guests after eighteen years. “I prefer women but that piece of
meat is too” he mumbled something incomprehensible in Russian “gorge’ous to
pass… You’re a lucky man, tovarich!” he patted his fellow mobster’s arm. “Can I
see if his meat is as good as it looks? Da?”
Falcone laughed intoxicated himself mostly from his triumph than alcohol. He
tightened his embrace to his slave’s waist.
“If was any other night, I’ll throw you out but tonight…” he cast a glance to
his toy’s shy eyes “have a taste!” he tossed his slave to the Russian mobster.
The Russian behind the flesh wall of Falcone’s gorillas, without delay put his
hand inside Bruce’s trousers and underwear and felt his buttocks, closing his
eyes longingly. The toy gasped when the man goosed him viciously and then
penetrated him with his finger, smiling mockingly to the toy’s eyes.
“Everyone her’ wants the same thing, tovarich” he said to Falcone thrusting his
finger deeper…
Bruce felt his rectus protesting. He had to calm himself; he raised his head to
the cool night air and closed his eyes. He began inhaling from the nose and
exhaling slowly from the mouth, bringing in his mind Tony’s happy laughter on
the surfboard, the slow sound of waves brushing the Malibu shore, the warm
caress of sun and the sense of wet sand under his missing one toe foot.
“Mr. Wayne, are you alright?” it was Lucius’ worried voice.
He turned to the good man, smiling.
“I’m fine, Lucius; I just felt a little” not panicked  “overwhelmed: the air
was too thick and warm and all those people staring at me…”
The man approached him, his eyes shining wickedly.
“Have you ever thought that perhaps they were admiring your splendid suit?”
Bruce stared at him like a little child, then smiled broadly and laughed.
“No, I’m so vain that it never crossed my mind… Thank you, Lucius!”
The man made a dismissal motion with his hand.
“No need to thank me: after all, you pay me to be your anchor to modesty, Mr.
Wayne…”
The young man laughed lowering his head yet Lucius’ playfulness had left his
face.
“Another flashback?” he whispered.
Bruce didn’t answer; he didn’t want to lie.
“Mr. Wayne, are you in pain?” his worry was heartwarming.
The young man smiled and shook his head in denial: how could he tell him that
his ass was in pain?
“They raised enough money?”
Lucius laughed but his worried gaze didn’t change.
“Even in their wildest dreams they wouldn’t have imagined that… You did a
wonderful job, Mr. Wayne. And speaking of that, we need you so what Dr.
Thompkins suggested…” he said gently.
The young man nodded.
“I will, Lucius, but in due time.”
“Wayne Enterprises and Gotham won’t be uprooted if you dedicate two days to
your health.”
Bruce pushed the locks that had strayed to his forehead.
“In due time, Lucius. Now I must bid goodnight to our friends…”
Lucius nodded solemnly and followed him to the foyer where they were
intercepted by Harvey and Rachel.
“We were looking for you… Mr. Fredericks was worried.”
But a nasal voice from the huge, 50’’ TV on the wall of the foyer drew
everyone’s attention. It was Jack Napier dressed in a neon yellow shirt and
matched trousers interviewed by Vicky Vale, - obviously a recorded interview.
“I wanted to come to Gotham for tooooooo long; I think that this city needs
good humor”Bruce rolled his eyes“so her’ I am.”
“What your show will be about?”
“At first, before the shocking events of a month ago, I was thinking about a
show about Batman – what’s funnier than a man dressed like a bat?”
“You dressed as a canary…” Bruce commented and Rachel looked him impressed,
chuckling.
“Then, after all these teeeerible things – and I mean reeeeeal teeeerible
things – we learnt, my show will focus on your sad Prince. Your Prince needs so
much to smile and he has a greeeeat sense of humor – I met the man… He’s
gooorgeous by the way – you lu-lucky Falcone!” he winked to the camera. "Yep –
what I was saying?” he scratched his head grimacing and Bruce again had the
notion that something around his lips and his cheeks was off. “He has a greeeat
sense of humor; I mean look the joke he played on pooooor Falcone: he was
thinking he was fucking a kitten and in the end it turned out it was a tiger
that bit him in the assssss – oh! I was laughing for days… Hehehehaha!
Falcone’s pan on TV, huhuhu! He was fuuuucked by his fuck toy!”
Some people at the foyer registered Bruce’s presence and were staring at him;
Lucius wanted to support the young man but he doubted it would help.
“So what will be that show?” Vale inquired interested.
Napier licked his lips and his eyes shone.
“After what Falcone testified at his trial, I made my version of the Prince’s
life based on Cinderella – something like Princerella; after all, Falcone said
that he raised the kid as a father – a veeeery affectionate father... if you
catch the meaning… So a stepfather as in Cinderella. Only that it won’t be a
fairytale”he brought his face to the camera lens and winked moving his head in
apology“Sooooory, kids! More like a comedy with very sooooft porn – I mean
think of Brucey; he is 26 years old and he’s been fucked more than a retired
hooker, hehe!”
Harvey was outraged; his face red, while Lucius was frowning. Yet Bruce’s face
was emotionless like a stone.
“Bruce, you can sue him!” the young DA offered, standing in front of Bruce to
hide the TV screen.
“Yeah, Mr. Wayne” Rachel told shyly “although he is my client and I know that
he means no harm, you can sue him.”
However, Bruce was elsewhere; only a part of himself listening to them.
“I’ll be playing the Prince-whore, no… slave; after all, we’re soooooo much
alike, me and Brucey. The difference is that I always look on the bbbbright
sight of life…” he began whistling on the pace of the famous song. “Com’ on,
Brucey, cheerrrrr up! Come to the show to see a different aspect of your life…”
 As if returning from somewhere else, he shook his head in dismissal.
“Suing him will be promotion for him. No, is what he wants: my attention – he
won’t get it!”
Rachel’s eyes were expressionless, her lips fighting to hide a smirk. “He has
so many ways to get that… and more, Brucey” she thought but was shocked to
realize that the said man was scrutinizing her with an expression so privy that
she frowned.
***** Chapter 15 *****
Bane’s strong hands were gripping Talia's wheaten sweaty hips as the gorgeous
young woman was slowly dancing bare naked upon his groin, making him grunt, his
black eyes shining feverishly taking in her icy cold expressionless eyes as her
long nails were scarring his stony, busty pectorals.
He was inside her yet she was the leader, commanding and imposing the pace she
desired and that pace was that made him ecstatic, his breath strained, making
the silk that covered his face – Talia didn’t want to see his face –
unbearable. However he didn’t care… She knew how to make him desperate, his
body a volcano all sweaty and tense to give her pleasure.
Her body was perfect; tall with average weight, her rich breasts freely dancing
with the rhythm of his thrusts and her hips’ motions. Her jasmine perfumed
sweat glistening in the bright light of her bedroom: she always wanted them
having sex under abundant lighting. Bane felt the urge to close her erect
nipples in his salivating maimed mouth, between his teeth, as he had done with
that whore of Ra’s, but Talia never permit him to uncover his face nor to touch
her if she didn’t want it.
She was having sex yet she was completely in control of herself, her breath
calm as if watching the training of her men, while he was mesmerized by the
slithering of the royal cobra tattoo she had around her belly button.
Talia began rolling her hips frantically, her muscles massaging mercilessly his
penis, shutting completely his mind, rendering his powerful body into anarchy,
his trembling hands finding her busty buttocks and squeezing them to give her
more power over his length. He was roaring thrusting stronger and deeper, her
cold face expressionless except for a smirk, sweat streaks running her stony
abdominal muscles to meet with the liquids of her vagina.
Her fingers dag into his pectorals and she bit her lips.
“Tell me, Bane…” her voice was cool and calculating “do you ever recall the
sensations from the time you fucked him?”
He tried hard to forget his penis in her and focus his foggy eyes to her
crystal clear ones. Of course! Despite the fact that it was midnight and a
couple of hours have passed since she saw him, she, as her father, was still
thinking of him.
She sensed the tightness of irritation in his abdominal muscles and clenched
his pelvis with her vagina muscles, moving her groin in a way that launched his
length in craziness. She brushed his aching balls with her nails and his
buttocks began shaking in their effort to leave  sheets that were wet from his
sweat.
“Well?” she smiled devilishly.
“No” he grunted and she continued to tease his throbbing balls.
“His insides were warmer than mine? His smell is better?”
He was angry now: what she was doing? Interrogating him? He gasped shocked when
she took him deeper, her mighty hand clenching his balls.
“He was a porcelain doll; you knew that you were raping him but yes…’’ he
whined when Talia brushed violently his trapped length with her vagina – he
closed his eyes. “He smelled nice – not as nice as you - he was warm, yes, but
from his despair…”
She lowered her pace and he breathed easier; the young woman was half smiling.
“A porcelain doll? Interesting choice of words…” she dragged her accented
voice. “So you admit that he is beautiful…” she caressed his wet abdominals and
massaged with her insides soothingly his erection, leading him to a climax.
“And he saw your face and offered pleasure to your maimed face without
vomiting… It must have been heavenly to you, having his velvety lips caressing
your marred flesh which is thirsty for some touch …”
Bane couldn’t restrict himself anymore; his face’s dried, neglected flesh
recalled the unique feelings of those soft, warm lips massaging it carefully:
never again felt he something in his face and – now he realized it – he missed
it, as that eyes looking at his disfiguration without disgust but with
understanding.
“Yes!” he cried and his fluids exploded outside Talia’s body who sensing that
he was ready detached herself.
She lied beside him supporting her jaw on her palm, staring at him sarcastic
behind the curtain of her shining hair and completely unfazed by his and maybe
her orgasm.
“Do you want to feel his lips on you again?” she whispered seductively, running
with the fingers of her other hand his spend length.
His broad chest was heaving, his eyes half closed. He had his one hand over his
head and the other leaning on his belly.
“Yes…” why denying it; after all, there was no chance anyone else will ever do
that to him again.
Talia kissed his nipple with her rich, red painted lips and rode him again
rubbing her groin on his penis, her aroused breasts lying gently upon his
chest. She brought her hand at his groin, took his penis in her palm and
massaged it relentlessly till it hardened enough for her to lead it inside her,
her knees rooted on the mattress, her long hair brushing her back as she began
her snaky movements.
“I was seventeen years old when I first saw father with him; he was fucking him
and he, although at his fourteen years, looked even younger: too skinny and too
short for his age. Father’s giant body glued on him made him seem even smaller…
He was so narrow that my father inside him was stretching his little body to
the limits yet my father was thrusting desperately, making the boy bite his
lips to not yell, his ultimate pain and shame clear in his beautiful, tearful
eyes… It was in the big training room and father had pinned him to the wall
with his enormous body…”
Her eyes were far away as if she was watching it again.
“He was savoring the boy’s stretched neck with his open mouth, unable to quench
his thirst… It was obvious that he didn’t want my father’s touches and although
he was used to being fucked by way older men, he couldn’t make it less painful
for him… He was so incompetent and moron that father needed to press the right
spot to relax somewhat his anus to prevent it from tearing.”
She shook her head and her hands pressed Bane’s pelvis, causing the man’s moan
of pleasure.
“I hated the boy from that day; he was getting my father away from my mother
just five years after she died in that car accident” she clenched Bane’s balls
with the hate her voice emanated. “How could my father forget my mother for a
worm so unworthy? And then, when my father’s fluids flooded the boy, wetting
his stretched inner thighs, he took the boy in bridal style and that
despicable, deceitful snake put his small arms around my father’s neck, weakly
sinking his head in my father’s still dressed chest; his eyes were closed from
exhaustion and defeat and my father kissed gently his sweaty locks…”
She shook her head in disapproval.
“I hated that boy to the death that moment and if I didn’t want to keep my
presence a secret, I’d have stormed inside with my sword and cut his head… But
father folded him more securely in his giant chest and took him to the bathroom
to wash him… I knew from that day that that boy would be the death of my
father; he’d betray my father as soon as he found out that my father used him
and had his own agenda for him. I warned him…”
She made with her pelvis a twist that took Bane’s breath away and made his
buttocks leave the mattress to thrust deeper.
“He didn’t listen to me… although he believed that this boy had the potential
to be great, he was stupid enough to believe that he wasn’t better than himself
and that he wouldn’t master more things than those he taught him…”
Bane’s massive fingers grabbed her buttocks to give more momentous to his
pushes.
“I’d warned him too…” he groaned “I told him that he was sly…” he moaned,
Talia’s muscles clenching and unclenching in a mercilessly pace at his penis “I
told him to chain him… and keep him…” he was rasping “as a slave… for his
pleasure… He wanted him a warrior at his side… he didn’t want to… smash his
pride… he thought it… remarkable that the boy managed to… keep his… defiance…
That was enchanting him…”
Talia now was making up and down movements on his throbbing erection.
“He was too beautiful and enchanting to just chain him… My father was a sucker
for charming people… When I came again in Gotham, three years later, I watched
them training – secretly of course.”
Bane couldn’t restrain himself and brought his hands to her wheat colored,
swollen from the arousal, breasts, massaging them violently – as she liked it –
making her throw her long neck backwards, her long raven mane flying around
her. But then without even catching her motion she grabbed his wrists and
pinned his hands on the mattress.
“It was incredible how pretty that skinny, short boy had became; he had gained
enough height and weight, revealing how perfect was his body’s structure and
how harmonic my father’s training was developing his already well formed
muscles. He was fighting with my father with his torso naked, covered with hot
sweat and my father’s eyes were so lustful – he was gone from Gotham for five
months - I was certain he’ll lose… And, indeed, the youth made a swift twisting
move that made my father lose his balance and fell on the ground – nobody, not
even me, had ever achieved that -, I bit my lip in outrage: he should have
killed him that instant! But instead he laughed when the boy pinned him on the
floor, his eyes shining with determination and triumph – my father loved that
boy’s defiance… he didn’t imagine that this would be his demise…”
She clenched her vagina muscles so mighty that Bane’s penis hurt in its
sensitive state and her hands clutched his abdominal muscles.
“I hoped that he’d put that insolent whore back to his place when father
touched something in his right arm causing him to cry in pain and giving father
the chance to roll him under him, pinning his wrists with one hand above his
hand; I could hear his frantic heartbeat as my father smashed his attempt to
free himself. I know your body better than you do, father said to him playful
and the boy looked him proudly – no, no proudly, arrogantly. I expected that
father would torture him…” she shook her head in disappointment. “But he only
grabbed his waist band and lowered swiftly his loose pants along with his
underwear till the clothes were away from his body – I missed you so much,
child…, it was the only thing he said before diving his face in the boy’s
groin…”
Bane cupped her waist and began a stampede of thrusts.
“Your father was too lenient on him… And he was a devil… a small slut devil… He
realized that and tried to kill him but it was too late: the small devil had
stolen the Demon’s knowledge and skill and killed him…” he groaned too close to
his climax. “Why don’t you want him dead?”
She felt his orgasm and descended.
“You don’t give up on such a profitable investment. Father wanted the best for
the League and as it proved Bruce is valuable. He killed father with the Knife
of Justice, his own weapon.”
Talia stood up from the bed as Bane ejaculated with a roar splashing himself
and the sheets.
“The Knife of Justice” she continued thoughtful looking from the large window
at the Queens’ Bridge with the hundreds of vehicles crossing it with their
lights on, and behind the great city’s tall illuminated buildings sending their
looming gothic aura. “It’s not an easy knife to handle: I never managed even to
wound someone with that and father had me many times trained with that. The
Knife had served my father’s will for decades until he used it against Wayne…
That brat managed to yield the knife to his will and kill its owner although he
never had held it before… Wayne is even more precious than father thought –
maybe he realized that before he died…”
Bane breathing normally now took in admiringly her entire naked body brushed by
the distant lights of the city and the moon; her raven locks caressed her
elegant back till her waist.
“Do you believe in myths?” he inquired sarcastic.
“No, yet I believe that ancient people knew things we don’t and carved their
knowledge in things. The Knife of Justice isn’t an ordinary blade…”
Bane cleaned himself with the sheet and stood next to her.
“And that idiot dismissed it sending his dog to give it to be exhibited in a
museum. What kind of an idiot does that?” his contempt and envy was evident.
Talia pierced him with her sharp black eyes and lifted an eyebrow.
“An idiot that believes in justice and considers that valuable artifacts must
return where they initially belonged. Also, an idiot who knows that his skills
are not restricted to the use of a weapon.”
She could see Bane’s smirk in his eyes.
“You want him not only because you think him valuable but also because you want
to triumph where your father failed: you desire to tame and harness that wild
animal…” his voice was poison.
She smiled devilishly.
“He’ll serve our purposes as father envisaged… and he’ll serve us…”
Bane shook his head.
“He didn’t even serve Superman that way!”
“He’ll serve me” she answered confidently.
“He can’t give pleasure to a woman: he is a cripple – your father said it. They
used him too early and too harshly destroying some nerves. He can be used only
by men…”
She laughed amused.
“You call him an idiot yet you’re the idiot, Bane. A woman can be pleased in
many ways…” she brushed her full lips to his pectoral, sending shivers in his
spine.
But her snigger turned the shivers of pleasure to shivers of annoyance.
“What about that clown that attacked Luthor? He seems to have an interest in
Wayne.”
She grabbed her body length shawl and threw it loosely on her shoulders, the
transparent lilac silk not hiding anything but instead increasing her
nakedness’ appeal.
“Just an annoying pest; a buffoon wanting to join the big bad guys, using a
famous name to draw attention” her beautiful face was slightly distorted by
disgust. “A pitiful zero…”
She crossed the enormous bedroom graciously and left the room without a word;
she descended the stairs to the first storey of the Manor and then opened a
small door in the back side of the house. Her bare feet brushed soundlessly the
steep steps to the basement in the pitch black; she didn’t need any light.
She walked a little more and stood before a wooden door, her eyes focusing
almost sad at the small glass window.
“Be patient, father, soon you’ll have him again… We’ll have him again…”
The foggy night of a wintery Gotham was descending as Talia, her head covered
by a plain black cap and her face hidden with a woolen black scarf except for
her blades of eyes, walked to the mundane metal door that stopped every
stranger to enter the secrets of the League.
She was seventeen years old and she had left Oxford and her college, because
more important things demanded her attention. Bane opened the door and let her
in with a reverent bow. Talia pulled the cap and freed the waterfall of her
raven hair and discarded her scarf.
She crossed the ground floor without speaking to the men bowing their heads and
ascended to the attic where Ra’s Al Ghul’s office was. Talia knew that he
already had learnt about her departure from Oxford and her arrival in Gotham
but she didn’t fear his wrath for not getting his permission: he was the one at
fault here.
She didn’t bother to knock on the door, she was sure that he had heard her
steps.
He was standing in front of the small wood framed window overlooking the short
buildings of this unprivileged area. His hands were behind his waist and his
head slightly lowered, a sign that he was in deep thought.
“Welcome, Miss Tate…” his solemn voice greeted with a hint of sarcasm, but he
took his time before turning to face her.
Talia saw shocked that his face was radiant, content as she hadn’t see him in
five years from the day he found her mother dead inside their crashed car; his
Lazarus Pit potion not able to do anything to someone who was so many hours
dead…
“You left your studies, Miss…” he said sternly but not as much as she had
expected; he was… happy? “You know that this is unacceptable!” he roared
suddenly as if reading his daughter’s thoughts.
However the seventeen years old Talia wasn’t intimidated by anything not even
her lion-like father who caused tremor to unlawful beings all over the world.
She walked towards him, her hands fisted at her sides, her eyes spiting fire.
“There are things more unacceptable than this!” she lifted an eyebrow “Besides
you forced me to come here…”
He mimicked her eyebrow movement without loosening his hands from his waist.
“So Bane rushed to tell you everything…” he laughed jeeringly “That gossipy
rat! If he wasn’t such a loyal and good warrior, I’ll have him thrown out!”
Talia greeted her teeth.
“He cares for us and the League and seeing you…”
The imposing man straightened his impressive posture.
“Seeing me doing what?” he stressed every syllable challenging.
Talia took the challenge.
“You plan to train and trust our secrets to an unworthy kid.”
He smirked.
“Unworthy?” he tilted his head amused.
“A pathetic kid worthy only for mopping floors and being fucked!”
“He is the supposed dead son of the Waynes.”
“So what?”
“He has potential, I see it in his eyes; he’d be a great warrior of justice.”
Talia spat.
“Bullshit! He’s just a whore, Falcone’s whore. Nothing more.”
“You’re wrong, child!”
Her eyes shone angrily.
“You’re in love with him!” she exasperated. “He is three years younger than me,
father!”
“So what? I’m the Demon’s Head: I can do whatever I want and my daughter and a
fool can’t dictate me!” he spat irritated and Talia decided to lower her tone.
“Of course. I don’t have a problem with you fucking him – that’s his job, after
all…” she lifted her eyebrows. “But don’t train him as a member of the League;
don’t give him access to our knowledge… Quench your desire; use his body as
much as you want but don’t make him part of us.”
“He’ll serve me better than anyone else: he is a desperate child who all these
years knew only brutality and abuse. I healed his arm, wash him, feed him and
dress him; I give him purpose: I’ll be his God not his Demon! He’ll do whatever
I want, he’ll spy Falcone and in the end will be my executioner angel…”
Talia grimaced and folded her hands on her chest fuming.
“He hopes that you’ll free him and restore him to his throne. As soon as he
figures out that you want him for your servant, he’ll betray you. He’ll destroy
you and the League!”
Ra’s laughed.
“You’re delusional! Don’t be fret: neither you nor your mother is in danger of
losing my love and I assure you that I know the best for the League.”
 She raised her head proudly and her eyes became icy cold.
“Then prove it! Prove that you’re not stuck in his asshole” she could sense her
father’s ire yet her heartbeat was almost undetectable and she smiled self
confidently. “Slay him!” she dragged every letter. “Prove that you’re indeed
the leader of the Shadows, the Demon’s Head and not a lovesick moron with a
kid!”
The Demon’s eyes spurt fires and Talia felt terrorized for the first time, his
face distorted from wrath and she half expected to see horns emerging from his
head.
“ENOUGH!” he roared and it was the sound of all the lions of the planet. “How
dare  you  think, you insolent brat, that the leader of the Shadows, the
Demon’s Head, the Terror of East and West, will do what a jealous-sick child
and a moron dictate?! I. AM. THE. LEADER! I. GIVE. ORDERS! Leave now before I
forget that you’re my daughter and my heiress… GO!”
She left; she didn’t want to feel scared yet she was and that was outrageous.
She loved her father but the way he spoke to her was unforgivable. However he
was the Demon and nobody could tell him what to do; if he complied to what she
asked him, she’d have been satisfied but her awe for her leader and father
would have been seriously diminished; he was right to put her in her place… Yet
her spite and grudge against that little whore festered.
She wanted to see that little slut who seduced the Demon. She followed the
secret passage to the training rooms and with a gasp that barely held in her
mouth saw her father heading to the big training room in the far end; a man she
knew was one of the trainers left the room as Ra’s entered.
She hurried her steps soundlessly to the part of the passage where an unseen
hole was giving her access to the bare vast space.
She saw her father enter imposing and crossing the room to the corner where a
slumped form was doing sit-ups; she saw her father squatting but the being was
covered by the shadows and didn’t want to come to the light.
Ra’s’ lethal hand cupped incredibly gently a small jaw, stopping the exercises.
“That’s enough, child” he said astonishingly soft – he spoke like this only to
her and her mother. “Your trainer ordered you to stop and you disobeyed – you
must not disobey” he shook his head in disapproval and she heard a little gasp,
the boy was afraid, obviously used to be punished for disobeying – good, she
smirked.
“I’m sorry, master” it was a hesitant, cute voice yet she could discern some
little, very little pride. “I just wanted to do some more to… to become
better…”
She saw the small head’s outline lowering.
“But if you don’t listen to your trainer, you’ll injure yourself” he said
benevolently. “Your arm is almost healed, do you want to be thwarted by a new
injury, caused by your own stupidity?” he yanked gently the small head with his
finger under his jaw.
The small head moved in denial.
“Forgive me, master. I’m a fool… I deserve your punishment…” Talia nodded and
felt a rush of excitement for the imminent punishment.
“You’re not a fool, child; you’re desperate to prove yourself, to be a warrior
of the justice, to serve me…”
Her eyes widened, when her father’s enormous hand cupped the back of the boy’s
head and became one with the small shadow, his lips swallowing the boy’s lips,
his other hand roaming the boy’s naked torso ending at his waist and lifting
him one handedly. He carried the boy till the wall and pinned him on his back;
Talia could now see the boy and teeth bit her guts.
Although Bane said that he was fourteen years old, he looked at least two years
younger due to his delayed development and his too cute face. He was cute – she
admitted that – beautiful despite the hardships he suffered and his tortured
existence was radiating as his marred innocence was… No wonder her father was
infatuated with this kid: a Demon is always attracted to an angel and wants him
his.
Ra’s was kissing hungrily the boy’s cheeks and then his small rosy lips, his
groin rubbing on the child’s pelvis demanding. The boy was trembling from fear
as her father’s authoritative hands lowered his clothes, leaving his body
completely naked; his mouth now sucking the boy’s small pectorals. Ra’s
undressed himself and his hard erection instantly searched his too small
entrance.
Although she despised the boy gasped when her father’s giant member stubbornly
pushed the narrow opening – he had forgotten to prepare the kid, she realized.
Yet the boy didn’t scream when the penis penetrated him stretching his anus
unbearably; he just bit his lips and shut his eyes and moaned, his weak hands
holding on the Demon’s still dressed shoulders. A well trained whore, she
smirked, his masters never prepared him for penetration.
She watched her father thrusting into the convulsing from pain body, sucking
his flesh feverish, while his hands were pushing the boy’s legs to wrap around
him to invade him deeper… She clenched her fists: the Demon was more passionate
for the boy than for their mission and she wished the boy had died along with
his parents.
 
Now that the Wayne Haven was almost finished and several police stations were
scattered around the Narrows, China Docks had became the center of mob’s
activities. Not that they had abandoned the Narrows or that the area had become
a garden of law and order, but they chose to keep a low profile there for the
time being until things returned to normal.
Although police’s presence was strong in every entrance and exit of the city,
the rival gangs had no choice but to risk bringing every kind of ‘merchandise’
through them, especially after the Chechen’s fiasco in Metropolis that proved
that using other cities wasn’t safe… They tried to find the best possible time
and place to stay unnoticed.
Men were scattered around the dock 33 between containers their riffles at the
ready a van parked waiting to get loaded. The men’s faces were agitated,
sometimes looking eagerly towards the ocean and sometimes searching worriedly
the dark docks.
“Why there’s only a van? Is better having all the vans ready…” one of the men
said to his fellow thug.
“Cretino! Ten vans assieme is a scream for attention! We want discreet,
capisci?”
“Man, cops have their ball tonight… And cut the Italian!” he shook his head.
“The ball’s over and that Bat doesn’t go to balls…” he was scanning the endless
rows of containers and the paths between the warehouses. “And where’s the
cavoloboat?!”
Good thing it was a clear night without mist and they could easily see their
surroundings.
“I tell you, man, we just waste time. Cops are celebrating for the bucks they
made: that slut-brat gave them five hundred grands!”
The other nodded. He was Maroni’s supervisor and knew that.
“Someone has to teach that brat a lesson!”
The other laughed.
“I thought Falcone did that?”
“He’s a dumb bitch! He forgot already! Maroni is Falcone’s succesor and he’d
show him when he rules this damn city!”
His fellow thug laughed.
“’don’t think that the others see the Maroni rule thing…”
“The other two…” he replied irritated. “Chechen is a joke: I can’t understand
how we trust him our drugs, as for that Gumby…” he laughed. “If Maroni gives
him Wayne for his trade, he’ll be satisfied – hell, he’ll make a fortune!”
A low sound of engines working at the minimum and water’s humming made the men
stare at the dock’s end to see a medium sized boat approaching without lights.
“It’s about time!”
The boat turned off its engines and some other thugs hurried to tie it. But
then sirens burst to the silence of the dock marring the peaceful sound of
waves.
“Who told them to have the sirens on?!” Batman who was watching concealed by
the shadows from the gargoyle above the dock 33 , pressed his lips.
“The cops!” some men yelled panicked yet Maroni’s supervisor raised his hand
for silencing them.
“No problem! It’s time this city remembered who’s the boss here… Guns ready!”
his eyes gleamed in the dark. “We’re more than them – morning will be a funeral
for pigs!”
He was right, Batman thought, they were too many and with heavy guns; also the
boat was loaded with more ammunition. It wasn’t meant to be a battle and those
police cars were approaching.
The thugs, unseen behind the cover of containers loaded their guns pointing at
the direction of the stopped police cars, waiting for the officers to step
down.
And then, when the sound of the cars’ doors opening reached their eager ears,
behind them loud blasts made them jump, the whole area foggy with smoke.
Confused yells and questions filled the space, while the guns turned to
the explosions' spot, and the officers hearing the disturbance, took cover
behind their car, guns at the ready.
Batman pushed an invisible button in his glove and smoke twirled, covering his
whole body, except for his head, as he charged against the thugs, whose eyes
widened in panicked awe since a disembodied demon head with blazing eyes was
attacking them.
The head stopped right before them scowling, the smoke still dressing his body.
“Kill the damn bat!” the head henchman ordered and a rain of bullets pierced
the smoke, thickening it.
The clicks of at least fifty cartridges falling at the cement cracked the
silence and the men waited with caught breath to see the corpse in the
dispersing smoke. Yet as soon as the air cleared, they saw the head still in
its place, the eyes more menacing than before.
They didn’t manage to say anything before the creature of the night jumped on
them, his clenched fist smashing in one motion two jaws, whilst his flying leg
knocked down two others who in their descend carried away some of their fellows
that rushed to help.
Batman didn’t let himself consider too much the impact those bullets had on
him, despite the fact that fortunately Lucius and Tony had already enhanced the
suit’s bullet resistance. Chose to focus on his headbutt to the charging thug
and the backwards kick he sent to the henchman that made to shoot him from up
close, sending him to crash on the containers wall, taking along two others
that were following him. Yet he didn’t have time to breath: those thugs forgot
completely the cops and wanted him – nice!
He was in the middle of a thug-pack, circling him like lions a gazelle, only
they weren’t lions and he definitely wasn’t a gazelle. It took only a second
before they rushed simultaneously against his entirely confident statue and he
chose exactly that instant to squat making them impact violently one on
another, while his legs ‘chopped’ theirs with a sweeping motion that was
crushing their knees. They collapsed yet Batman in his rapid twirling upwards
movement carried them with him, his clenched in iron mode forearms smashing
their cheekbones, before letting them slump.
He must have looked like flying, as in Bruce Lee movies, because the police
officers who hesitantly approached the commotion had a rather silly expression
in their faces. Yet Batman had no time to dedicate to them, he had to take care
of the boat’s crew before they run away. So he spread his arms and cape
completely hiding his body and turned on the thick mist that vanished him from
everyone’s eyes.
A female officer taking in her fellow officers’ paralyzing awe grabbed her
handcuffs and rushed to the stirring criminals.
“Guys, we have work to do!” she screamed angrily and another officer lead his
partners to the boat.
 
“Hey, little guy, how’s the night going?’’
Batman had just left the boat that was bringing guns to Gotham after beating
some more henchmen and using the ninja training to avoid the ignorant officers,
and now he was walking to the Tumbler, the points were the bullets had hit his
suit a bit sore; yet he knew that the next day the pain would be more
considerable.
“Spectacular!” he answered sarcastic and activated the sound-proof field that
prevent the sound waves to reach inappropriate ears.
“Damn! I knew I had to remind you to take condoms!” Tony exclaimed frustrated
in his cowl.
“You were at the hotel.” It wasn’t a question.
“Damn that ninja training! Com’ on, I was on my way for a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission”
Tony heard the groan “and since you told me that you’ll go there” his voice was
mock pleading. “I couldn’t resist seeing their faces goggling at you and the
car…”
Batman didn’t answer.
“Was Superman there too?” Bruce could hear Tony tilting his head in annoyance.
“Oh!” he answered frustrated. “Yeah, but I kicked him out – nice, eh?’’
“Everything OK with your mission?” his voice was more growling than before.
“Routine… Some wannabe supervillains holding hostages… It was more like a
school excursion with my super-mates… I was hoping our Stane was there.”
“Him holding hostages?” Batman asked incredulously.
“I know… but it’s frustrating that he plays the good kid…”
“Maybe he knows we watch him… I have to hung up…” complaining whines reached
his ears.
“You need help?” Tony’s voice became serious.
“No.”
Not even a ‘good morning’, Tony sighed from his stool before his working bench.
Batman is no fun.
Batman followed the sniggers and the jeering calls till the entrance of an
alley; he frowned. Three smart asses had cornered a strange looking man and
were counting his money – no more than three dollars - under the strange
sounding yells of their victim. A bag was on the ground its contents - cheap
lighters and pens - scattered around. He pressed his lips and stormed to the
gang.
The man stopped crying and began laughing delighted and one of the goons
grabbed him from the weathered lapels.
“Ya laughin' at us, turd?”
He was menacing but the man was giggling his eyes never straying from goggling
behind the goon who annoyed by his victim’s defiance raised his fist to hit
him.
“I’ll show ya, moron!”
“What will you show him?” a lion-like growl asked in his ear and his wrist was
smashed inside an iron hand.
The victim giggled more loudly seeing the goon’s scared bulging eyes which
fought to escape their sockets when he turned to see who was there and found
himself face to face with Batman’s glare.
“You enjoy frightening defenseless people?” his fist connected with the man’s
nose, who didn’t need more than this punch in which Batman didn’t fuel his true
strength to slump.
He shook his head in denial, his friends scattering panicked to the alley’s
entrance.
“I won’t do it again, man…” the goon whimpered as Batman’s imposing figure
stood towering him, his artificial lenses’ glower unbearable.
“If you do, I’ll find you.”
Batman turned his back to him, his cape brushing the man’s face, and approached
the giggling victim full aware that the smart ass ran away staggering at his
trembling legs.
The man was looking at him awkwardly, giggling and Batman thought that he was a
junkie yet his pupils weren’t dilated as a drugged man’s would. He regarded his
strange characteristics and his slightly bizarre posture and realization
dawned. He was a mental deficient person.
“Th…thank… you” he stuttered. “You… you’re the Bat!” his eyes glistened with
enthusiasm and he smiled so broadly that Batman had to fight to not smile
himself.
Batman squatted and gathered the man’s bag and his scattered merchandise to
hand them to him.
“My…my…my naaame iiis Billy.”
“Nice to meet you, Billy. Where do you live?” he spoke slowly and clearly
minimizing his growl for the man to understand him.
The man tilted his head, looking puzzled and then laughed, revealing his bad-
formed teeth.
“He…here, you silly…”
Batman kneeled to gather the man’s money that the goon in his panic dropped. He
gave them to Billy.
“I…I ssell thi-things” Billy said proudly. “W-want aa - anything?”
Batman felt his hidden eyes watering.
“You want to go to a nice place where you’ll have a home and people to care for
you?”
Billy lost his child-like, full of kindness smile and frowned.
“Jail?”
Batman shook his head in denial and offered his hand to the man. Billy
hesitated but in the end grabbed it and followed him to the Tumbler. He looked
at Batman suspiciously when he opened the door for him, but finally he decided
that could trust the funny dressed man – he had heard stories of how he was
helping people.
He took him to Leslie’s free clinic, using the back alley. The good doctor who
had made the clinic her home when she sold her home to maintain the clinic’s
function didn’t look surprised: she was used to his or Gordon’s visits at such
hours.
“He is Billy” he said gesturing to the man “he is mental deficient" he
whispered "he was living in an alley; he’d be helped in the Haven.”
She nodded.
“I know Billy – hey, Billy! But we lost him many years ago – I thought he… Oh!
My good Billy!” she hugged the man and kissed his cheek, causing Billy’s
glistening smile. “Can you go inside, Billy? I’ll be right there…”
Billy nodded and walked inside with his slight limb; suddenly he stopped and as
if he remembered something, turned to Batman.
“Th-thank you, Bbbat! Good- good moorning!”
“Good morning, Billy, take care of yourself…”
Leslie waited for Billy to be out of hearing range and turned to Batman, her
hands folded furiously on her chest.
“He was selling lighters and pens to live…” Batman muttered. “Some smart asses
tried to rob his pennies…” he pressed his lips.
Yet Leslie was mad at him and he knew it.
“You find time to save everyone but you don’t find time for yourself?!”
“Leslie, more than one man would have lost their lives tonight…” his voice was
steady and determined yet Leslie heard the boy trying to explain.
“If anything happens to you, then many people will be dying – do you have any
idea of how important your life is? Your suit is riddled…”
“It’s bullet proof” he spat.
She lifted an eyebrow.
“Is it impact proof, too? Every bullet that hit your suit wounded your tissues
– you must be in pain…”
“Not really.”
“Not now, but when all this adrenalin ebbs it will be agony.”
“I can handle pain and you’re exaggerating.”
“When would you take care of yourself?” she inquired touched and enraged.
“I will, Leslie…” his rasp was toned lower.
“When? When it’ll be too late for me to do anything?! And don’t roll your eyes!
That lenses don’t fool me…”
Batman felt blushing under the cowl.
“I must leave, Leslie… Billy will be fine at the Haven – fortunately, the
apartments are ready…”
She shook her head irritated, looking at the clinic to soothe her rage.
“Stop changing the subject…” but she sighed when she realized that she was
speaking to the air.
Oh, Thomas! She thought. Sometimes I wish you weren’t the kind soul you were so
you and Martha were still alive and Bruce was a little bit spoiled…
 
Clark had his head slumped on his palm at his cheap desk at the Planet,
watching the slideshow of Bruce’s pictures from the last night’s ball on the
Gotham Gazette’s site under the title ‘Dashing Prince’. A couple of them were
shot when the gorgeous man was standing before his amazing car.
A flood of scenes invaded his mind and he hoped that nobody in the office had
mind reading abilities, because these scenes were rather personal and included
him, Bruce and that car. His superhumanly warm body warming a completely naked
Bruce lying under him on the car’s hood, the distant Gotham lights illuminating
his porcelain beautiful flesh as his own supersensitive senses were getting
aroused by millions different intoxicating stimuli, Bruce’s strong velvet legs
embracing his buttocks drawing him closer to be muffled by Superman’s body…
He rushed to close the window with the Gazette site and smiled to Lois who
approached silently as a cat. Good thing he had a super hearing and good thing
it was eight o’clock in the morning and he could explain his bad mood.
“When you’ll explain that kiss with Superman?” he asked her grouchy and she
frowned.
“You can tell a ‘good morning’ first, farmboy! I think that Mrs. Kent would be
very disappointed with your behavior…” she teased him.
Clark gazed at her grimacing and Lois shrugged.
“I repeated it many times already at our colleagues: I WAS DRUGGED! THERE’S
NOTHING BETWEEN HIM AND ME! Kent, don’t tell me you fancy me and you’re
jealous?”
He tilted his head; they were good friends and something more was a joke for
both of them.
She sat on his desk, taking his cheap pen and playing with it.
“I explained everything yet there’s no explanation for Superman kissing back,
right? After all, he wasn’t drugged…”
Clark felt sinking. Yes… And how he was to explain that he kissed Lois because
he longed to kiss someone else? And who would believe him?
Perry suddenly stormed out of his office and this always demanded their
attention. Everyone’s eyes were on the editor, no other sound but the humming
of the working computers.
“Lane, Kent, go: Falcone wasn’t at the morning’s counting in the Metropolis’
federal prison.”
Lois and Clark exchanged shocked gazes, Clark’s mind on Bruce.
 
***** Chapter 16 *****
Fury was reading the report on the last night’s mission: everything went
smoothly. Of course, he lifted an eyebrow, was a ridiculous raid, unworthy of
S.H.I.E.L.D. and all these ‘heroes’ but the President asked for them, because
he didn’t want to risk anything, and they couldn’t refuse, could they?
He rubbed his forehead and sipped from his coffee. His office was rather stingy
for a Director of such a powerful organization, its walls littered with pinned
snippets of strange events suggesting appearances of extraordinary people and
others concerning the appeal of S.H.I.E.LD’s missions and its heroes’ uniformed
and civilian activities. On his metallic plain desk an old fashioned computer
was constantly working, keeping him in touch with his fellow directors –
although he never had seen them physically.
Stingy and low lighted as it was his office, he loved it and it suited him due
to the silence it provided and the freedom to compose the twirl of his
thoughts. They had lately recruited Captain America but their research on
Batman – he had sent agents in Gotham after these abstract images from the
security camera – was still fruitless. Sometimes he tended to believe that it
was indeed a ghost, a spirit of revenge the way he, it, whatever, appears to
help someone and then vanishes like smoke.
He had information that last night, Gotham’s police confiscated a large cargo
of smuggled guns and arrested a small army of thugs, although the police force
that did that was too few to manage alone, plus there were no casualties. Which
was rather impossible for such perilous raids. So it didn’t come as a surprise
the fact that although unofficial the officers who participated in the mission
were speaking awed about how the Bat cleared the field for them.
He had been so sure that the Bat was Bruce Wayne and longed to recruit him as
he had done with his friend, Stark. But then that Bat appearance almost a month
ago while Wayne was at Malibu toppled everything.
He put his legs on the desk and watched again the snowy footage of the security
camera, his sole eye piercing the screen – it was an old fashioned screen but
he loved it, because it didn’t fool his one eyed vision. Was Batman indeed
someone else or the Wayne kid was just playing him like a fool, as he did with
Falcone? And if Wayne wasn’t Batman, who else could be the elusive vigilante –
if, of course, you didn’t succumb to Gotham’s mob’s superstitions…
Someone knocked on his door and although his answer was muffled by the pen in
his mouth, Agent Hill entered, blinking her eyes to adapt to the darkness of
the room which however didn’t diminish her shapely silhouette.
“What is it, Agent Hill?” he inquired without bothering to turn towards the
entrance.
Besides, Maria was already there beside him.
“I thought you’d want to know.”
Fury without dropping his lazy position raised his eye to the young woman.
“What?’’
“Falcone is missing from the federal prison – today’s counting revealed his
absence.”
Fury lowered his legs from the desk swiftly and his full attention was on Agent
Hill who shrugged.
“That’s all – they don’t know anything else, they investigate now.”
Fury pouted his lips and nodded.
“That won’t please many people…”
“Including your… ‘friend’ Wayne: too bad, he seemed so content last night
during the GCPD’s ball. What a bad way to wake up…”
He frowned, tilting his head.
“That’s right” the young woman answered “he impressed everyone with his
astonishing car and his attitude during the ball – like a true Prince. And he
donated five hundred thousand dollars to Gotham’s Police force.”
She leaned on the desk and grasping his mouse struggled to reach the Gotham
Gazette’s site.
“Ugh!” she exclaimed frustrated. “Director Fury, I think it’s high time you
changed your PC… Here!”
Fury’s eye glistened fully widened gazing at the picture of the man and the
car.
“Certainly Stark’s creation!” Agent Hill remarked impressed.
Fury laughed briskly his face carved with a broad half smile, revealing his
pearly white teeth. He shook his head amused.
“A car reflecting Stark’s friend’s personality” he muttered slowly dragging his
words, leaning more towards the convenient screen. “Soft, looking vulnerable,
but with an aggressiveness at the other end and an extremely powerful inside.
Stark revealed his friend: the car he gifted him is screaming ‘I am Batman’ –
oh! Stark…” he laughed.
But Agent Hill crossed her arms  and gazed disapprovingly at her superior.
“Maybe he just wanted to boost his friend’s wounded self confidence. Why you
don’t leave him to enjoy his freedom? I think he deserves at least that!”
Fury who was gaping at the photos, taking in the meaning of her words he
stopped sniggering and looked her completely serious.
“I admire the kid, Agent Hill! He won Falcone and his freedom when everyone
else wouldn’t have even dared to think of it, not try – everyone else would
have been crazy or a walking corpse with everything he experienced; he has
courage, intelligence and incredible ability in fighting and all these without
any ‘super powers’ apart from his brain’’ he made a gesture to his own head
“and charm. I don’t want anything bad happen to him and being a vigilante will
destroy him! And it’s a pity…”
The young woman shook her head and took her gaze elsewhere.
“You’re just stuck with this irrational theory: being Batman requires
resources, freedom of movement and training. How the slave Bruce could have
gained all these, since he appeared three years before Falcone’s defeat and
Wayne’s rescue?”
She was ready to say more but the alert of a new email stopped her. Fury
hurried to open it and Agent Hill saw the content yet she couldn’t discern
anything since it was written in the secret code of the directors. However, she
understood from the jubilance in Fury’s eye and face that it was something very
pleasant.
Fury lifted his eye on her and pointed with his finger at the incomprehensible
text.
“S.H.I.E.L.D. gives me the official to investigate Bruce Wayne…” at last, an
official approval of his theory, although he already had started – unofficially
– by having a small chat with Falcone a couple of days ago.
 
Alfred was polishing an ornate silver miniature, an old heirloom of the Waynes
he had managed to rescue. He cast a glance at the wooden clock on the wall
which was an exact copy of the clock the late Martha Wayne bought the Christmas
just before her death. It was eight o’ clock in the morning but the thick fog
that covered the Palisades made it look like it was much earlier.
Master Wayne was deeply asleep; he had checked on him a couple of minutes
earlier. Good; the young man needed some rest since he returned to the Manor at
five. Although his young master asked him not to wait him, he couldn’t sleep
knowing that the last Wayne was out there facing bullets and blades. And this
night was a nasty one; the boy obviously thought him asleep and didn’t hurry to
dress fully and despite the fact he swiftly covered his torso upon hearing his
steps, he managed to catch a glimpse of the aftermath… A torso filled with
small just darkening bruises that certainly will be black now; he should have
been in pain but he didn’t show anything, instead smiled to him and asked his
butler to wake him up – if he didn’t wake by himself – at nine o’ clock.
Nine o’ clock… Really? Wayne Enterprises, spying excursions, deciphering those
bloody files, a hasty dinner and then Batman…How long this will go on? He had
hoped that after Falcone’s arrest, Bruce would stop that frantic and exhausting
way of life but in vain: there was always something supposedly more important
than his life but the loyal butler sometimes thought that there was a death
wish deep in the young man…
He had gone to the master bedroom to check on him half an hour ago; master
Anthony told him that the cardiologist who had examined his young master
advised him to wake up Bruce whenever he seemed too upset in his sleep to avoid
exhausting his heart. He found him in deep sleep, his body curved in fetal
position, exactly as he was sleeping when a child; his mouth was slightly open
smoothly exhaling and his locks disheveled, with a faint frown disrupting his
eyebrow line. But otherwise he was peaceful.
Alfred took the blankets and gently muffled his young master’s exposed back –
the Manor’s temperature was rather high but still… He feathery caressed the
brunette locks and closed his eyes when the young man whispered something like
‘mom’.
He sighed and left the heirloom in its place on the marble fireplace of the
grand salon. The biscuits must be ready: at least, his young master indulged
himself in that small treat.
Falcone’s fist grabbed his dirty hair and heaved him, bringing him on his lap,
indifferent to his hair’s uprooting – good thing he was… he was too small, he
was a kid because if he was heavier certainly he would have been scalped. The
mobster was sitting on his leather armchair in his modest office at Dolcetto,
the familiar sounds of bickering, music and giggles reaching distantly his
ears.
He felt wetness on his small ear and a hot breath, Falcone’s heavy hand on his
empty stomach.
“Yar father was taking ya on his knees?” he shivered from disgust.
He nodded and the man’s hand descended hastily under his ragged loose pants and
in his underwear cupping his privates; he jolted but the mobster pressed his
skinny chest on his fleshy one with his other hand.
“Ow! Yar so soft, like velvet, kid… And I’m yar daddy now… Without me, ya'll be
begging at the streets, hungry (as if now his stomach was sated…), begging for
a piece of bread (as if he wasn’t now) an' sleeping in the cold (as if now was
sleeping near the fireplace)” the kid closed his eyes. “I’ll do what yar daddy
was doing…”
“No, sir, my dad didn’t…”
The hand that wasn’t pawing his privates covered violently his mouth, muffling
his next words.
“Yar daddy was advertising ya…” he licked slowly the boy’s neck. “He was
showing off how beautiful his little Prince was…” he stopped tormenting his
privates and the hand moved swiftly downwards; a cold fat finger thrusting in
him without any warn.
It was sudden and painful and he jumped but Falcone kept him immobile.
“Yar daddy was raising ya to be a hooker” his finger played inside him,
scratching his tender flesh “he planned to rent ya to his rich friends to close
deals…” a second finger invaded him and he whimpered on Falcone’s palm who
motioned the small boy’s body up and down his fingers. “Stop playing the virgin
with me, kid! Ya sneaked out to find someone to fuck ya as yar daddy showed ya,
so I give it to ya.”
He extracted his fingers and grasped the boy’s waistband lowering pants and
underwear in one rapid movement, lifting a little the boy’s body to settle the
clothes underneath his buttocks, exposing him. The boy shook his head in denial
having learnt already what was next and the mobster pressed viciously his palm
on his mouth stretching the small head painfully.
“Yar a whore; the Prince of all whores an' I’ll make ya the most working whore
of all!” and then a second voice was mixed with Falcone’s “he was fucked more
than a retired whore!”
The man freed his hard erection and Bruce feeling the hostile flesh touching
him, wanted to resist but the mobster was too strong. He felt the cruel stony
length searching his flesh and sweat drops emerged on his face. He tried to
avoid the demanding length, fighting to lift his buttocks away; yet Falcone’s
amused laughter hit his ears as his opening was attacked by rock solid flesh.
He closed his eyes as his small entrance was stretched and the man left
abruptly his mouth, grabbed viciously his skinny waist with both hands and
lowered his small body rapidly all the way down his length, piercing his
insides.
The sweat became streams on his face, his heart racing and his mouth unstopped
let a loud whine escape…
His anus was throbbing and his breath was harsh due to his racing heartbeat,
sweat running his neck and he jolted on the mattress, sensing the beddings.
Yes, it was a bed, not a man’s lap… He was in the master’s bedroom – his
bedroom – in the Wayne Manor. Relax, everything is fine…
He rubbed his eyes and his entire face; the pain in his anus was demanding and
he didn’t want even to acknowledge that part of his body. Bane was right: he
was a dreadful student if he couldn’t manage to thwart his emotions from having
an impact on his body.
He looked at the clock on the nightstand; half past eight. He shrugged; he
would have woken in half an hour, anyway. He disentangled himself from the
tempting warmth of the blankets and stood.
He walked in the vast bathroom and once again felt delighted seeing the
hydromassage cabin: he didn’t have to tell Alfred to install it – it was a very
pleasant surprise waiting for him the day he returned from Malibu; yet this one
was cylindrical shaped. He took off his pajamas and underwear and stepped
inside, choosing the program which used every ability of the system, the one
that made his mind forget everything and stop the time; neither past nor
present nor future…
When he decided that he must return to reality stepped out and dressed with the
dark blue robe to do the rest of his morning routine; the pain at his anus had
subsided considerably but that gave room to the irritated from the last night’s
bullets muscles to begin protesting.
He wore his pajama bottoms rashly when Alfred knocked on the door. He called
him inside.
“I see you woke up, Master Wayne” he raised an eyebrow.
“Is that bad, Alfred?” Bruce smiled at his friend.
The loyal man shrugged and raised both eyebrows.
“Now I have to lie to this awful man that you’re still asleep.”
Bruce frowned.
“What awful man?”
“That buffoon who thinks that he is a thespian. He is here.’’
“You mean Jack Napier – so, you’ve seen his interview with Vicky Vale.”
“Of course, sir. He is a nasty character, isn’t he?”
Bruce closed his eyes.
“I’ll tell him you are still sleeping.”
“No” Bruce opened his eyes, a flash of determination in them. “I’ll see him.”
Alfred approached him slowly.
“You don’t have to, sir” he said warmly.
“I know, but I don’t want him bothering people to see me. Better to finish with
him. Tell him that I’ll dress and I’ll come down.”
“As you wish, sir” Alfred nodded; he liked his young master’s bravery to face
horrible people yet he’d preferred it if he avoided some of these challenges.
“Don’t mind me, Brucey…” a nasal voice entered suddenly the bedroom along with
the soundless opening of the door.
The man’s jaw dropped as he took in Bruce’s naked torso, some moisture still
shining on the taut well formed flesh.
“Wowowow! When I heard ‘I’ll dress’ I hoped for something more eeeeeextreeeme,
 but still this isssss… Wow! And again wow!” his exclaimation turned into wolf
howl and Alfred looked Bruce wide-eyed. “I see you like it…mmmmmm… rrrrrough!”
his shining piercing eyes counted every blackening bruise scattered in his
chest and rock solid abdominals. “I guess it’s under-staaaandable after all
these years…Grrrrr! Who’s the lucky one?”
Bruce stony faced grabbed his dark burgundy colored robe.
“Now that is what I call a pleasant waking…” he murmured.
 Napier raised his hands pleading.
“No, no, no, no!” Don’t ruin an awe – some morning!”
But Bruce wrapped himself quickly in the cloth, his eyes stern and indifferent
at the same time.
“I must point that you are very rude, sir” Alfred’s cold cool eyes pierced the
dressed in red shining shirt, jeans and jacket man.
“Sir?!” the man giggled. “Ow! You’re surely a British. Well, SIR,” he mimicked
Alfred’s heavy accented voice “in Hollywood if you’re not rude, you’re meat for
the rats… Nobody cares for politeness – politeness and sincerity is a death
sentence” his eyes glistened maddeningly.
“You are not in Hollywood, Mr. Napier, though I wish you have stayed there
instead of bothering other people with your heavily advertised but lightly
existent talent” Alfred snapped and turned towards the door.
“Ouchy!” Napier exclaimed and jolted as if a whip had hit his ass. “Another
fan, then?”
“Mr. Napier, follow me, if you please” Alfred’s voice was cold and his eyes
even colder.
“No, I not please” he answered stubbornly. “I prrrrrefer that environment with
that mattress waiting, still hot and sweaty from this boooody – ugh! -… and
Brucey here haaaalf naked…”
“Now!” Alfred raised a bit his voice yet the result was more impressive than if
he had roared and Napier scratched the cap of red fur on his head and followed
casting a last pleading glance and a kiss to Bruce.
The young man waited till the door was closed to smile amused; Napier’s
reaction to Alfred’s wrath was hilarious. Now he could withstand that clown.
When he descended the main stair to the grand salon, dressed as usual for his
Wayne Enterprises’ day, he found Napier sitting on the neutrally colored sofa
with a glass of soda in his hand and Alfred standing right beside the great
stone tiled fireplace stern faced, like a statue guardian. It wasn’t odd that
Napier sat like a mischievous kid in detention.
However, the red-riding-hood of his guest upon seeing him, jolted, spreading
his hands in the air in delight, his lips pursed. But then as if he rethought
it shook his head in refusal.
“Although suits suit you and they speak on you – too bad I don’t understand the
language – I prrrrrefer your previous attire…” he scratched his ponytail “non-
attire.”
“And I was wondering what to wear for you to like me…’’ Bruce replied
sarcastic.
Alfred sent their guest a murdering stare and Napier raised his eyebrows to the
old butler and shrugged in innocence.
“Alfred, could you leave us alone?”
“I knew it, baby!” Napier made the elbow movement and whistled.
Alfred sniffed at him and motioned to the kitchen.
“If he misbehaves, call me…” he whispered in his young master’s ear and
vanished.
As Alfred’s light footsteps gradually silenced, Bruce approached his guest.
“Well? What do you want, Mr. Napier?” he snapped.
The actor was towering him almost an inch.
“And SIR Michael Caine there called me rude!”
Bruce didn’t change his irritated attitude.
“I don’t have any time for your … games, so tell me the reason of your
unannounced visit or I’ll ask you to leave.”
Napier waved his hand, grimacing as if hurt and Bruce once again had the
impression that something wasn’t right in his face.
“Easy, babyyyyy! I see that Rachel was right about last night.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow and Napier nodded like those dog-dolls in the cars.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, she tells me everything. By the way, I liked the canary
comment – I overdone it, huh? Buuuut I made the connection: Batman and Canary,
two birds on the skyyyyy! He’ll like it? Oooor maybe change it to Robin? You
know, mooore colors…”
“Next time you’ll see him ask him… Now…”
Napier studied him, his head tilted and his mouth set in a crooked smile.
“You definitely are more than you appear to be…” he dragged his words.
Bruce’s eyes were steady.
“As every human being, even you, Mr. Napier…” his posture was loose yet his
eyes were shining.
Napier frowned and laughed.
“No!” he made a small bow “I am exactly what I look.”
“I doubt that…” he shook his head impatient. “I have work, Mr. Napier, and you
waste my time…”
His guest raised his palm and made a stop gesture. Then he plunged his hand in
his jacket’s inside pocket and pulled out an envelope which handed to Bruce who
took it frowning.
“What’s that?”
“An invitation to my premiere – I want you there, in the most prominent seat:
you’re my inspiiiiiira-tion after all.”
Bruce felt a rush of anger: that man had the nerve to come in his house, to
invite him to a show that humiliates him. However, he was taught to control his
anger, although in that case, he should let a portion manifest to not cause
suspicion.
He gave the envelope back.
“Your show is at night; I can’t come because my nights are occupied” he half
smiled “Whores work at night…” his voice was cold but he let a trembling
vibrate his words.
“Oh, Brucey! Oh, Brucey!” the man exclaimed and Bruce felt sick. “That’s a
huuuuuge misundersta – nding; I didn’t mean that you’re a whore – Oh, baby!
Noooooo, nooooo” he shook his head in emphasis. “I meant the extent of the
cruelty you experienced.”
Bruce rolled his eyes – how pathetic for an actor.
“Don’t waste your… talent, Mr. Napier. I won’t come and I can’t believe you
thought that there was a chance of me coming. Why? To see you ridiculing my
life, my torture to evoke the laughter of Gothamites who anyway didn’t give a
damn for their fellow human beings?” he saw Napier’s constantly moving eyes
being scary immobile scrutinizing him. “You thought – what? – that I’ll feel
flattered that a” he laughed bitterly “star will choose my life to exploit to
gain money? I hate people like you that rip apart the lives and wounds of
others to gain fame and money, who ridicule what they don’t understand. You can
leave now!”
He turned his back to pass the message that their discussion had ended yet
Napier remained there, silent for a couple of seconds.
“Why you didn’t sue me, then?” he asked minimizing the nasal impression of his
voice.
Bruce turned slowly.
“To not give you the satisfaction of a conflict with me that would have made
Gothamites eager to see your… abomination. But I warn you: don’t you dare even
speak about my parents because I’ll make sure you never act again!” he inhaled
to calm his racing heart, which was his own act, since he was able to control
that. “You may consider this meeting the first and the last: we’re finished.
Good morning!”
He set his clenched jaw high, in a motion which along with his flamed eyes was
dictating the man to leave. Napier smiled cunningly and shook his head in
denial, his eyes regaining their frantic movement.
“I’ll leave, Bruce – but this is not the end” his voice was dangerously low,
like the hissing of a snake. “I am the one who’ll say that” he smiled broader
“and I don’t intend to say it… So long, baaaabyyyy!”
He turned to leave but stopped abruptly and looked again at Bruce.
“You’re gorgeous in dark grey… Ah! And I heard on the radio that Falcone
escaped…” he winked.
 
He was hunched on the keyboard of his special computer in the cave. The working
bench was finished and he had installed the software he needed on the different
hard discs. The tiny numbers at the right bottom of the main screen, the one
connected with the powerful processor because the other five were just showing
footage from the public cameras, read half past nine in the evening. In less
than two hours he should be out patrolling and Alfred’s toast – the only meal
he had time for – waited cold on the silver tray while the orange juice had
lost its normal color after so much time.
He was too absorbed, too fascinated to allow even a small portion of his
attention to stray. It was another demanding day, yes, and Napier’s morning
visit didn’t make things better. Then he had continuous meetings at the Wayne
Tower between which he barely had time to hack the Metropolis Police’s and the
FBI’s computers from his laptop to learn any news on Falcone’s escape. It
seemed that last night, after the night counting, he was escorted to the
prison’s infirmary to ‘see’ the nurse – there were testimonies that Falcone was
in intimate terms with the young nurse… The reports concluded that he used the
foolish woman to escape, leaving her dead in the infirmary.
And he came across Dagget who seemed too happy with himself – Lucius told him
that he made a contract with Luthor concerning his mines.
Later while shuffling at the docks as Freddy he stretched his ears and his
special earbud to hear if Gotham’s mob knew anything about the plans of the
former Emperor and where he might be. But nobody knew anything…
He had returned to the Manor – actually, the underground of the Manor – just
two hours ago and as soon as he got rid of ‘Freddy’ and made a quick shower, he
dived to those intriguing files of the League of Shadows (it was a good thing
that they didn’t even suspect that he had stolen their rich database). He
rushed on the working bench because while spying on the mobsters and at last
hearing where and when the meeting of the three big ones will take place, he
had an inspiration – something like a flash after the fruitless work of so many
days – that made him forget all about Gotham’s mob and the escaped Falcone…
He wanted to shout his happiness right there yet Ra’s’ training on self control
worked and he was patient enough to finish his ‘work’ before rushing back home.
Yeah, the file made sense now and it was astonishing! His face was radiating
from jubilance and he was aware of it; he could make so many things with this,
asking of course the assistance of Lucius’ and Tony’s genious.
Alfred’s hurried footsteps and his straining breath, Bruce could even hear his
heartbeat, grabbed him and dragged him out of his reverie. He ordered the
computer to save his work and turned to his butler who seeing the untouched
toast and juice seemed to forget the reason of his agitation and glowered
disapprovingly at his young master.
“Alfred, what happened?” he inquired dismissing his butler’s unsaid reprimand
about the food.
For an instance the good man seemed indecisive whether to stick to his
annoyance about his master’s misdemeanor or say what he rushed there to say.
“Master Bruce, you have to see…” he decided that this was more important and
turned one of the screens to GCN.
The video was clear enough yet obviously amateur. A gruesome white painted face
with red lipstick on his juicy lips, black paint around his shining devilishly
eyes was glued on the lens, making the crudely sewn scars which started from
the corners of his lips till the middle of his cheeks more prominent.
“I know you’re honored to be with me tonight, ladies and gentlemen, but… I have
to warn you to remove the children from the room because the images that follow
are of major violence, nudity and baaaaad language… Huhuhuhu!”
“What is that?” Bruce asked dumbfounded Alfred.
“The same video plays in every TV frequency in Gotham, sir, the ordinary daily
program was simultaneously cut.”
The guy in the video removed his face from the camera and the frame widened to
show a vast, completely empty space and then in one swift, dizzying motion the
frame was entirely made of the bare naked form of an old man.
Bruce knew that body too well, it was his horrible world for all his life and
he felt going numb.
“Falcone…” he said to nobody in particular.
“Yup, yup, yup, this is…” he grabbed the terrorized man’s jaw and yanked his
head so that his face would be clearly seen through the camera “Caaaa-Carmi-ne
Falcone!”
The man was standing, his limbs stretched and bound with chains on the two
walls; he was so much stretched that he seemed ready to be split in two with
the tiniest of movements. His fat, greasy body was erect only thanks to the
chains and in his eyes Bruce could discern the terror and the exhaustion of
someone who was tortured for hours – he knew that expressions too well… Small
puddles of blood were around his bound on the ankles feet, some of them dried.
His bare heavy torso was covered with lashes made by whipping chains, so deep
that the blood still dripped, his nipples cut and his belly button pulled off
of his socket. His balls were bound at their base with wires so brutally that
they had turned to black dead meat, his penis cut in small horizontal pieces
that were held together by thin layers of skin.
Alfred saw with dread his young master’s eyes becoming entirely dead and
wondered if he made the right thing to alert him for the strange broadcast; how
could he have imagined?
Bruce’s heart was clenched in disgust, horror and weakness. He noticed that his
abuser’s body was wrapped and pierced with wires and his head was covered by a
metallic cap like those which are put to those meant to die on the chair. He
closed his eyes; a wire seemed to emerge from the bound man’s anus.
“Master Bruce, perhaps we should switch it off?” Alfred inquired almost
desperately but the young man seemed not to hear him.
“This man” the screeching, bossy voice of the clown echoed to the space
“tortured and raped a little boy for eighteen yearssssss, is that so,
buddyyyyy?” he pressed a button at the control he held, the sound of
electricity charge clear and Falcone’s body convulsed violently, the man
screaming and crying desperately, because his writhe made his body tear open.
“Is that soooooo, buuuuudyyyy?”
The man nodded but the clown made a gesture and another clown entered the frame
offering him an iron stick hot red at the edge and he immediately glued it to
Falcone’s fat buttocks until molten flesh dripped to the floor.
“Yeah!” Falcone cried through his screams “please, no; please, stop…”
“Why they don’t stop it?” Bruce’s hoarse voice was too low.
“They can’t stop the emission…” Alfred answered “Do you want me to close it?”
The young man shook his head in negation.
“I bet small Brucey was begging you like this, when you were thrusting your
enormous dick into his too small hole – he was crying, screaming, asking for
his dead mommy and daddy… But you were la-laughing, don’t you?”
The man at the edge of fainting or worse nodded to avoid more pain, his saliva,
tears and snot running abundant on his face and to his neck that was looped in
a thick wire.
“You never regretted your actions, huh? Besiiiiiides, you enjoyed too much
tearing Brucey’s little ass…” he began rounding the bound as a dried skin man,
dancing jubilant. “You even tried to ridicule your poooooor victim by saying
that the little angel – mmmmmm! Brucey was like an angel and still is…” he
closed his eyes reminiscently and smiled but swiftly anger took over again his
white face. “Heheheheh, the little angel provoked you… huhuhuhu… he wanted to
show you his gratitude, huh?!”
He glued his face to the camera, his eyes piercing Bruce.
“Hellooooo, Ameeeeeerica! It’s that how you define justice? A man who kidnapped
a kid, killed his parents in front of his tearing eyes, let his hand in
horrible pain, jailed him in a filthy cave, exhausted him in work, whipped him
whenever someone pissed him and was every night fucking him till his blood was
shed everywhere! This man” his voice was stentorian and he showed with his
index finger Falcone, like a mock persecutor “is permitted to live in a jail,
sleeping and eating with OUR taxes, enjoying his status as a former king of the
mob, fucking beautiful nurses, while his innocent victim daily fights with his
traumas and the diseases that filth let on his sacred body…”
Bruce swallowed hard.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is that man worth of living? For
pity’s sake! He stuck a huuuuuge metal in the boy’s hole, fucked him with that
and shot electricity in him till the poooor boy cursed” he lowered his voice
and brought his eyes on the camera “his. Dead. Parents.” He whispered.
“Poooooor Bruuuceyyy couldn’t say it at the court…” he kissed the lens “Don’t
worryyyy, sweatie, daddyyy Joker will protect you from now on…”
He distanced from the camera and approached again the bleeding, whimpering man,
whose entire body was shaking from exhaustion, lost blood, pain and terror.
Bruce felt cold sweat running his spine.
Joker took the same control device he had given to his goon. He made a bow to
the camera.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I knew that YOU” his finger pointed to
everyone watching “will agree with me: this man doesn’t deserve to live after
he defiled that way Brucey. Sooooooo, Caaaarmine Falcone I sentence you to
death…”
“No…” Bruce whispered and Alfred brought his palm on his mouth.
The clown grabbed the back of Falcone’s neck and forced him to look at him.
“I serve justice where people don’t… And nobody has the right to serve justice
for MY Brucey, especially in that pussy way! Yet I’ll send you to your creator
– uhuhuhuhuh! Oh! I’m sure he’ll be… ecsta-tic to see you – smiling…” he pulled
out a common kitchen knife from his dark purple jacket and with a swift motion
opened Falcone’s belly, his indestines bursting out, Falcone too exhausted to
even scream.
Joker pressed a small vial to the man’s nose to keep him from fainting and
walked away. He raised the hand that held the control. His eyes were twirling
maddeningly to the camera.
“I give you… JUSTICE!”
He pressed the button and turned to feast on the view of the convulsing,
twitching body of Falcone which was ripped at the thighs and the armpits as the
taut chains didn’t permit any move without punishment, smoke emerged from his
flesh that began to burn while Falcone was still alive, screaming like a child,
his eyes almost bursting from their sockets…
“Nobody gets to stand between me and Brucey” his voice was low, serious and
dangerous, surrounding by Falcone’s horrendous howls. “I am his destiny and he
is mine – and soon I’ll be there, Brucey, in your city. To keep any danger far
from you, to show you that we’re the perfect match; you’re the tragedy to my
comedy and I’m the comedy to your tragedy…”
Alfred closed fast the screen. His young master was very pale, expressionless,
his breath inaudible. He was shocked, too; that was awful for even a man like
Falcone. He patted his young master’s shoulder.
“Don’t go out tonight, sir…” he begged whispering.
But a small yellow light on Bruce’s wristwatch drew the young man’s attention.
“I must leave, Alfred; the light is on…” his voice was deep and tired and he
hurried to the changing room without another word.
 Alfred sighed and just watched as Batman walked towards the Tumbler.
“Alfred, if Police calls or comes, asking for me, tell them that Ironman came
and took me with him and call Tony and inform him.”
“Wouldn’t be better if you spoke with Master Anthony?”
Batman was entering the monstrous tank.
“No time!”
“No mood I think is the proper expression!” Alfred snapped but his young master
didn’t reply, just left.
Alfred was too tired when ascended to the Manor. He was sighing but the
jubilant sound of the satellite phone forced him back to his cool composure; he
was meant to call Master Anthony yet he caught him.
“Good evening, Master Anthony” he answered calmly.
“Alfred, you saw the video?” Tony was out of breath.
Alfred pressed his lips.
“Of course, Master Anthony, was in every TV frequency of Gotham… How you…”
“I have Jarvis following GCN for… you know…”
He knew: watching for any potential danger to his friend.
“He informed me about the video and Pepper and I returned hastily home to
contact Bruce. Where’s Bruce? Can I speak to him?”
Alfred inhaled.
“I’m afraid not, Master Anthony: he is out…”
“Fuck! I’m coming there!”
“No, Master Anthony, give him some time… And if anyone asks you, Master Wayne
was with Ironman tonight: you came and took him with you.”
Tony sighed; he wished he had really done that.
 
Although, Jim was expecting Batman, he still jumped when he all of a sudden
sensed a second presence on the rooftop of the Major Crimes Unit.
“Hello, Jim” his voice seemed somewhat tired and Jim frowned.
The temporary Police Commissionaire’s shoulders were slightly slumped and
Batman immediately noticed it. He expected that his information about the three
big gangsters’ gathering would have relaxed the good officer yet the lighting
of the signal prove him wrong.
Jim straightened his glasses on his nose and approached the dark figure.
“You saw the video with Falcone and that… man?” he inquired calmly without
detailing.
Batman just nodded.
“A new player…” Jim sighed. “We didn’t finish with the old ones and now a new…
And he threatened Bruce Wayne; we’ll give him a detail but I wanted to know
that I can count on you for keeping an eye on him, too.”
“Wayne has his own security to protect him, unlike most people in Gotham and
we’ll first finish with the mob and then we’ll worry about that… clown.”
Jim raised his eyebrows.
“Unfortunately, we don’t have so much time…”
He put his hand on the inside pocket of his cheap jacket and brought out a pack
of photos, Batman frowning behind his lenses. Jim gave them to him without
another word.
“It seems that it was too much hoping for a break …” he sighed and looked at
the pale half moon. “What are you thinking?”
However, his eyes were met with thin air at the spot where Batman just stood.
 
“…the tragedy to my comedy and I am the comedy to your tragedy.”
Clark as well as his colleagues of the night shift at the Planet’s storey felt
a shiver running his spine, watching the video the GCN sent to every major news
medium; but his agony was a thousand times stronger because it came with a
flash of recollection his eidetic memory brought back with details. A too vivid
dream with the exact same words and the exact same voice just before a month…
That was no coincidence and that man showed clearly that he is obsessed with
his Star: he manifested that when attacked Luthor and he was too stupid to
notice.
He jumped on his feet; his Star was in danger…
“Where are you going, Clark?” Lois asked hoarsely, noticing the paleness of his
face.
“I…I must leave, Lois… I…I can’t come with you… I’m not feeling too well…”
Lois shrugged, she looked worried.
“No problem; I’ll explain to Perry. Just go home and rest, okay?”
He nodded and hurried to the elevator struggling to not run.
“Kent, is the definition of brave heart, huh?” he heard a sniggering voice
behind his back.
“Clark is a very good man and braver than you!” Lois snapped at the one whose
name Clark not bothered to remember.
He found an unseen spot and changed into Superman charging in ultrasound speed
at Gotham.
Batman’s suit covered his heartbeat and warmth but he could recognize his
breath; he rushed where he heard that beloved sound.
He saw him perched on an ugly, ancient and threatening gargoyle, looking his
city from above. His breath was calm, too calm yet Superman could feel the
storm inside.
He landed on the rooftop sure that his friend knew his presence even before
that. But he didn’t move from his spot so he approached and waited patiently.
“What do you want?” his cold, raspy voice asked without however acknowledging
him even with his artificial eyes.
“I saw the video” Batman nodded but still didn’t look. “He plans to come to
Gotham; he plans to” he couldn’t find an appropriate word “threaten Bruce
Wayne.”
That name seemed to jerk him from his calm. He stood graciously from the
gargoyle and jumped lightly as a cat or a landing bat in front of him. His jaw
was tense, his teeth clenched.
“I don’t care about Wayne! He brings death to everyone around him!” he fisted
his hand.
Superman had had enough of his indifference about himself.
“You’ll have to do something for Wayne when Joker comes to Gotham!” he raised
his voice angrily.
Batman calmer now, raised his lenses to Superman’s eyes.
“He is already here…” he snapped and handed Superman the same package Jim had
given him a couple of minutes ago.
***** Chapter 17 *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter is quite lengthy; I thought to divided it but in the
     end, I decided against it. I hope it's alright.
Superman perused shocked the photos and the deck card; then he raised his head
and looked at his friend’s stern posture.
“I’m sorry, B…” he said in a throaty voice.
Yet Batman shook his head exasperated and took back the photos.
“Tell that to these people!’’
The first photo showed an ordinary living room of an ordinary quiet family with
the difference that everything was splashed with blood: the walls, the carpet,
the cheap sofa, the still on small TV set. There were three bodies lying on the
floor: the two larger bodies were positioned one upon the other and the third,
the small one, was right beside the wall, grotesque letters written with blood
on the wall above it.
The next photos showed the bodies from up close. In the heap with the two
bodies, was a man in his middle thirties, raven haired and good looking with
his head resting on a beautiful woman of about thirty with blond short curly
hair. Both of them were covered with bullet holes and the man had a bullet hole
exactly at his forehead. The carpet underneath them was drenched in blood, a
huge dark spot expanding.
But what was the most horrific was the next picture with the small body by the
wall. It was a boy around eight years old, with brunette hair and dark blue
eyes – his eyes were left open crystallized in the terror of the imminent death
and the unbearable pain. His small arm was pierced by two bullets and his face
was carved with two scars beginning from the corners of his lips to the middle
of the cheeks, giving for an instance the ridiculous impression of a smile –
lines of blood had dried as the two wounds bled unstoppable. But it was a huge
hole in the place where his heart once was  beating that killed the boy.
Another photo was shot to contain the blood message on the wall, above the
boy’s body: “Kids must permaneeeently smileeee – Brucey, I’ll mak’ you
smileeeee!”
Last was the photo of the deck card police had found at the crime scene: an
ordinary Joker card with Joker’s face having the scars that the criminal had.
Batman turned his back to Superman and he understood his friend’s distraught.
The crime scene was a repeat of the Waynes’ murders with the difference that it
took place in a close setting and not in an alley and the boy was killed,
instead of be allowed to live. Even the murdered people had a resemblance to
the Waynes, the sick criminal even keeping the detail of the two bullets on the
boy’s arm… That Joker really meant business and didn’t waste his time.
“Go back to your city.” Batman snapped without turning.
He wanted to be left alone and Superman was feeling that his friend carried an
unbearable burden on his shoulders and in his heart. Yet he couldn’t leave him
in that state, knowing that a dangerous lunatic was in Gotham targeting Bruce
and having an interest in Batman, as well. His words at Luthor’s office
returned to him clearly. He wanted to stay here constantly until the madman was
arrested and jailed, to be the shield for his Star – to protect him. However,
telling that to Batman would be a disaster: Batman would never accept
protection and Bruce was no different.
“I can’t leave” he replied defiantly, stretching his impressive posture “we can
scour the city to find him…”
He caught just a glimpse of Batman’s rapid movement and felt his body falling
under his friend’s body and then a sharp, piercing pain on his left shoulder.
He felt numb and then sick, rendered to minuscule debris, dizzy, weak, too weak
and that meant only one thing…
“Kryptonite” Batman said between his clenched teeth, seeing that the
invulnerable flesh was pierced, the paleness on Superman’s face and liquid on
his gloves.
He had heard the low hissing sound approaching rapidly and dived to save
Superman but still the bullet managed to pierce his shoulder, fortunately
missing his heart. How Superman couldn’t hear what he heard?
He kneeled on the ground to spare his friend from his weight and heaved him
carefully to examine the damage. Superman was breathing strained, drops of
sweat all over his face, his eyes tired and weak despite his effort to keep on
a brave face. He was in horrible pain but his collapse was too swift, even for
kryptonite.
He had Superman’s blood on his hands and now he was seeing his broad back being
pierced – definitely kryptonite – in a tiny blackened hole on his shoulder
blade that now had stopped bleeding, since – oddly – the kryptonite didn’t
thwart the flesh from healing and enclosing the stone. The wound might not be
fatal yet the poisoning from the kryptonite was.
Bruce felt a wave of dizziness, draining him. It was a shot; another person
being shot in front of him. His right hand began trembling. Another person
dying in front of him; the images of his dying parents flooding his mind.
“Run, Bruce, run…”his father was urging him again.
That night he didn’t faint, but tonight he felt at the edge of it… Another one
dying because of him!
No, he wouldn’t let that happen. He clenched his right hand in a fist: Batman
was beyond all these things, he was tough, strong, unfazed by anything. And
Clark won’t die tonight.
He opened a compartment of his belt and took a small blade which shone
brilliantly; then another one from which he pulled out a pair of tweezers.
Clark tried to stabilize his aspiration but it was too much for him; all his
powers seemed to have abandoned him in an instant and unimaginable pain was
capturing his entire existence, jeering him with his approaching death. He was
going to die, but his Star was there and that was all that mattered. If he
could see one last time his beautiful eyes…
“Show me your eyes…” he neither wanted to plead, nor to order yet he was afraid
how his Star would react to his request.
“I’m going to pull out the bullet to stop the poisoning; you need to…” he
hesitated; it will pain extremely and in Clark’s condition… “hold on.”
Clark sensed Batman moving him to rest him on his stomach and stopped him with
his feverish eyes on his artificial eyes.
“Let me see your star sapphires before I die…”
Batman shook his head in frustration.
“Cut the crap, will you? You’re not dying! I’m here…” yet he deactivated the
lenses and saw Superman’s entire face relaxing in delight. “Now, hold on,
because it’s going to hurt…” he sounded angry but Superman smiled despite his
millions of cells being in agony.
Batman laid him softly on the cement and unfastened the red cape, putting it
aside. He had his back to the direction the bullet had come so to cover his
friend if the murderer shot again. He knew that he will need both hands for the
‘operation’ and that the man will squirm violently from the pain, so he rode
Superman’s body, taking his broad back between his thighs. Then using the
blade, he rashly cut the suit to reveal the perfect flesh and the small hole
that at least didn’t bleed. His skin had started to take a sickening green
color, the poison expanding swiftly.
He didn’t have much time; Superman was rasping, his heart getting a frantic,
irregular pace. He clenched the blade he was using to cut glass windows to
enter buildings whenever he wanted discretion and brought it to the wound.
Although he held it with his left hand he needed also his right hand to control
the tweezers and it was shaking as if he suffered from Parkinson’s disease.
He gritted his teeth and used Ra’s training in concentration submitting his
hand to his conscious control. The tremor vanished and taking a deep breath he
sank the blade on Superman’s wound; the man writhed under him but he tightened
his thigh-grasp, immobilizing him, though due to his power or Superman’s
pleasure he couldn’t say.
Despite the fact the kryptonite bullet had stripped Superman from his powers,
his flesh was still very durable and if the blade wasn’t made from diamond, he
wouldn’t manage much – surely the culprit of this – he pressed his lips in an
angry line – knew that the flesh would be able to close immediately around the
kryptonite, making the poisoning sure. How he wanted to follow and catch him!
But Clark hadn’t had much time.
He searched the tortured flesh with the blade; the bullet had pierced him
rather deep and he was aware of how much pain he was causing to the wounded
man, although Clark was trying to not stir.
There… He stabbed the blade under the bullet.
“We’re almost there…” he wanted so much to use his real name but there was the
risk of being watched. “Kal El.”
Clark despite his state of pain and mist and low functioning, took in the two
syllables and wanted to ask how he knew, his curiosity and affection surpassing
his death agony but a piercing, excruciating pain erased everything. He spent
his last remaining stamina halting his scream however he couldn’t order his
body to stay conscious.
Batman held with the tweezers a quite smaller than an ordinary bullet piece of
sharp stone – it was actually tiny. Although it was the famous green glistening
of the kryptonite had some veins of black. His friend’s blood and flesh was
still on the stone and he set his jaw infuriated, dropping the bullet in an
empty compartment of his belt made from lead which he added after his meeting
with Superman, just for a case like this. He’d examine it later.
He saw his friend’s eyes closed and his spent face relaxed; for an instant he
was paralyzed from fear that he hadn’t stood the ordeal however he noticed the
faint motion of his lips exhaling air and he sighed in relief. He just fainted.
He pressed the greenish flesh and green liquid came out; he used a special
gauze that absorbed poisons to remove it (he asked Lucius of this thinking of
snake bites) and then antiseptic gauze to clean roughly the wound. In the end,
he attached those ready stitches to close it; of course, Alfred would make the
right job when they reached the Wayne Manor.
Now he had to take him to the Tumbler and obviously Clark wasn’t going to help.
He saw sadly his friend’s sweaty raven locks and closed his eyes: inhaled deep
from his nose and exhaled slowly from his mouth till he felt his mind take over
his every cell, his will becoming every cell’s will.
He wrapped his friend’s unconscious body and the shreds of his uniform with his
red cape and took Clark’s arm, placing it around his shoulders. He clenched his
teeth and heaved the heavy body, heavier from his unconsciousness and held
tightly with one hand the hero’s waist and with the other his arm.
If he had the chance, he’d have thanked Ra’s for the training, because although
he strained himself, he was managing to carry his friend’s body and walk.
Clark’s body was considerably heavier than his own and the man was three inches
taller than him, but in this case, being shorter was helping due to his lower
center of gravity. He used the communication system that was installed in his
cowl to order the Tumbler to wait at the alley between the building they were
standing and the opposite.
Then he pointed his grapple gun to the fire ladder of the opposite apartment
block and wished the drenched in titanium steel cable would withstand the
weight of them. He tightened his one hand embrace at Superman’s waist, wishing
the man was at least able to wrap his hands around his neck, since he needed
one hand to handle the grapple gun.
“You know, pal, I’d use some help…” he said as he fisted his right hand, the
weaker of the two, around the hilt of the grapple gun; he was uncertain if the
hand would manage to bear their summed weight and the gravity’s pull but he
hoped that his training in mind power will be enough. “You’re so helpful,
aren’t you?” he sighed.
Those superheroes! He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for an instant. At
least, his friend’s breath was weak but steady as his heartbeat… I won’t let
you die, that thought became his whole mind as he pushed the trigger; the hook
caught the metal, the cable was taut and he slithered them through the air, the
ground seeming a life time away from the 90th stories rooftop they were on.
It lasted a couple of seconds and his feet touched cement, the Tumbler already
waiting. He stored the grapple gun in its case, despite the fact that his right
hand was violently protesting, since it was dislocated from its socket. But he
had no time for this.
He used his both hands to hold Superman better and rushed to his car which
opened the door to the passenger’s seat on his order. It usually opened from
the roof but they had an emergency system which enabled secret doors to open in
both sides.
He positioned Clark on the seat and fastened the seatbelt; he took a second to
stare affectionately his friend’s sweaty face. He must be running a fever and
Batman hoped that it wasn’t from the kryptonite poisoning.
He pushed his arm back in its socket clenching his teeth and jumped into the
driver’s seat.
“Stealth and turbo speed mode” he ordered and the tank of a car accelerated
silently as a shadow.
It was a good thing nobody was following them. It seemed that the murderer was
afraid that Batman would catch him, so he fired and run for it. He was driving
yet he kept sending glances to the still unconscious Clark.
He hadn’t the knowledge Alfred had in treating wounds and he feared that what
he did wasn’t enough to stop the poisoning; maybe his friend was dying… because
of him… He pressed his lips together and tried to forget that and focus on the
blurring road and the cars of people roaming the city, passing them unaware of
their presence. He was feeling now his body soaked in cold sweat and his heart
beating fast.
And then Clark moaned and Batman felt his heart halting.
“You’re in pain, I know, but we’re near now and Alfred knows what to do…”
He made the car jump the last feet to the cave to spare precious moments and
stopped the car hastily, grateful at seeing his good Alfred rushing to the
Tumbler not missing his master’s agony as manifested in the car’s movement.
He jumped out of the car and without saying anything opened the emergency door
in Clark’s side.
“Master Bruce, what is it?” Alfred asked worried approaching more. “Is that…?”
his eyebrows were raised in disbelief taking in the passenger’s slumped form.
“Yes, Alfred, he is Superman; he was shot with kryptonite, I pulled out the
bullet but I’m not sure if I stopped the poisoning…”
Alfred read the unsaid pleading and hurried to help Bruce carry Superman to the
medical bay. They laid him on his stomach and the young man unwrapped the red
cape for Alfred to see the wound. It was a huge relief to see that the flesh
around the stitches hadn’t any sign of infection and the greenish color had
almost vanished.
Bruce took out his cowl and looked at Alfred inquiringly.
“You seem to have done a remarkably good work, sir, but we’ll reopen the wound
to clean and disinfect it some more. Just to be sure…” he smiled reassuringly
to the young man’s worried eyes. “And then I’ll stitch it properly, bound it
and he’ll be all new; you saved him, Master Bruce.”
But the young man shook his head.
“Only when I see him flying again, I’ll be sure.”
“You can take a shower now, sir” Alfred told him as he prepared the tools he
needed and a needle with a paralyzing substance to minimize the flesh’s
resistance.
Bruce stared him wide eyed.
“You don’t need my help?”
The loyal man smiled confidently while injecting the drug in the wounded flesh.
“You knew something when you wanted to have some needles with a diamond point.
Off you go, Master Bruce” he wore the examination gloves.
Bruce walked towards the shower but his head was turned to the bay where Alfred
with an incredibly steady hand was pulling off the stitches he had attached. He
closed his eyes and stepped inside for a quick shower; he had absolute trust in
Alfred’s abilities and he knew that his friend sent him away to help him relax,
yet maybe he needed him.
When he finished washing himself – he hoped that Alfred won’t check how clean
he was, like he did when he was kid -, he dressed hastily and rushed to the
medical bay.
Alfred beamed at him as he was putting the tools he used to the disinfectant
oven; he had finished already and he had dressed Clark in one of the spare
pajamas they had for their guests – well, their quite big guests.
“I did so much time?”
“No, sir, simply you didn’t let many things for me to do. His wound was clean
from any remains from the bullet and has no sign of infection. I just cleaned
again the wound, applied antiseptic, sewed it and put gauges. Also, I gave your
friend some antibiotics, pain killers and now he is sleeping like a 250 pounds
baby… Tomorrow, after some sun bath, he’ll be perfectly fine.” He noticed how
relieved his young master looked.
“Thank you, Alfred.”
Alfred approached him and smiled proudly.
“You must thank yourself: you removed the bullet effectively stopping the
poisoning and knowing that your right hand has difficulties with fine movements
it is rather admirable.”
The butler had noticed how he favored his right hand; Master Bruce tried to
hide it yet Alfred sensed that he was in pain. He had exerted himself to carry
Superman and now he was standing right beside the medical bay.
“We must take him upstairs, Alfred.”
Alfred walked there and took the hero’s other hand on his shoulder.
“To which guest room, sir?”
Bruce looked him for an instant confused and then lowered his eyes.
“To the master bedroom…”
Alfred didn’t comment and helped his young master – Superman seemed too light
though and he realized that Bruce was carrying the most weight to not exhaust
him. They laid gently the man on the soft mattress and Alfred muffled him in
blankets.
He took in his Master’s pale face and shocked eyes and he was reminded of a
small child watching for the first time a loved one being sick.
Clark moaned and grunted and Bruce jolted, searching Alfred almost frightened,
the butler immediately leaning upon the wounded man.
“He doesn’t run a fever and his heartbeat is normal for his standards. He is
just exhausted and in some discomfort…”
“Kss me…” Clark sighed.
Alfred frowned and looked suspiciously his young master.
“What he says?” Bruce inquired.
“Kiss me…” Clark was pleading and Alfred’s cunning eyes pierced Bruce who
seemed frozen.
“I think he pleads for a kiss, Master Bruce” he answered lifting an eyebrow
teasingly. “And I believe that you should grant a dying man’s wish.”
Bruce made a step backwards, his eyes widened in terror.
“He’s not dying!” he spat accusingly as if Alfred had insulted him. “You told
me so…” now his voice was like the voice of a complaining kid.
Alfred smirked.
“But he doesn’t know it…” he raised both eyebrows. “I think you should soothe
him.”
Bruce shook his head in denial.
“He asks for Lois…” Clark was still moaning.
Alfred rose from the mattress and approached his young master who retreated
more.
“Good thing then that you’re clean shaven…” he patted Bruce’s shoulder. “Would
it be helpful if I turn my back? Come on, Master Bruce, is only a kiss…” he was
amused by the youth’s flushed face.
“Alfred, I think you’re not behaving according to the butler’s manual…”
“I know, Master Bruce… I’ve been hopeless from the moment I met the Waynes…” he
winked and turned his back to the bed.
The young man rolled his eyes but after a new desperate whine from Clark, he
rushed to the bed and leaned above his sweaty face. The Man of Steel was
beautiful, the most beautiful man he ever saw, yet… He felt tears surrounding
his eyes and turned his head to look pleadingly at Alfred’s back. No solace
there… He inhaled deeply and touched his lips on Superman’s lips who feeling
flesh on his flesh began moving his lips greedily to take more, massaging the
foreign lips that didn’t feel unknown at all. His tongue invaded the warm,
sweet mouth searching in his sedated sleep, wanting more.
Bruce had his eyes opened watching Clark’s face soothed in delight as his
strong tongue conquered his mouth, he allowing it not wanting to upset Clark in
his sensitive state. His body was tense as if he was waiting a heavy blow.
And then Clark’s head rolled to the pillow, the man sleeping peacefully. Bruce
felt relieved and slumped on the armchair beside the bed, rubbing his forehead.
Alfred approached him and rested his hand on his shoulder.
“And now we must take care of your hand” he said warmly.
The young man stared at him.
“You’re favoring your right hand, sir; what happened?”
He ruffled his hair.
“Nothing, I just dislocated it as I was carrying Clark. But I fixed it; it’s
nothing, only tired.”
“You must be in a lot of pain” he saw the youth shrugging “some pain killers
are necessary, but first you must eat something: it’s almost 24 hours since you
last ate.”
Bruce’s gaze travelled to Clark’s face.
“I’m not hungry… A knot in my stomach…”
Alfred pressed his lips together; how could the poor child be hungry after all
these?
“I know, Master Bruce, yet you must eat something… anything. I’ll bring you a
glass of warm milk and those poor cinnamon biscuits that wait you from the
morning.”
The young man indulged him nodding and Alfred hurried to the kitchen but upon
entering the room after no more than ten minutes, his eyes were met with an
image that melted his heart.
Young Master Bruce was half leaning on his friend’s side, his head using his
left hand as a pillow having finally succumbed to exhaustion both physical and
emotional. His face was relaxed and his breaths even; Alfred took Bruce’s right
hand carefully and positioned it in a more convenient angle. Then he dripped
some pain killer syrup drops to his half opened mouth.
He stared at the milk and the plate with the biscuits shaking his head; he
couldn’t disrupt his sleep. He took a heavy blanket and muffled the young man’s
body.
He caressed his young master with his eyes and grabbed the tray leaving
soundlessly the room. Master Kent was in good hands…
He was on his hands and knees, completely naked in the middle of the vast empty
training room with Ra’s circling him, like a sneering lion his prey, his hands
behind his back, smirking for his slave’s agony as he was waiting the
inescapable.
Although three weeks had passed since his failed escape attempt and one since
Tony’s escape from his captors, Al Ghul’s wrath hadn’t ebbed neither his
punishments. From the night his master caught him attempting to run away, he
was always fucking him like this: on all four and roughly, so roughly that his
other tortures seemed like brushes…
Sweat had began to drip from his waiting the torture body and his breaths
became strained as his heartbeat; this delay only meant that his mentor was
angrier than the other times and was pondering ways to make him suffer more.
Then when he was ready to beg him to get over with it, he saw behind his
disheveled sweaty locks his master’s bare feet approaching him; he didn’t dare
to raise his eyes. He heard Al Ghul’s hand on the air before feeling the slap
on his buttock which was more painful than Falcone’s belt. He clenched his
teeth, sensing the older man kneel behind him and hearing the familiar sound of
him stripping.
Ra’s’ enormous hands like pincers enclosed his buttocks and spread him,
thrusting with one swift movement in his unprepared entrance, immediately
stretching his narrow channel in its limits. He hissed, trying desperately to
bear his weight on his trembling limbs.
The pincers tightened their grasp painfully and the older man pounded deeper in
him, in the way that made him feel that his entire spine was in fire and broke
in pieces. While before his failed escape Ra’s was reprimanding him for his
inability to relax his muscles to avoid much pain, now he was using his
knowledge of Bruce’s body to make his muscles tauter to multiply the old pain,
till the young man was rendered to whines and whimpers finishing his
humiliation.
The older man slapped his shaking wrists crushing him face first to the wooden
floor, bringing his body in a position more convenient for culminating the pace
and force of his thrusts. His huge length was relentlessly punching his
insides, choking his breath as the pain peaked – at least, punishing him meant
that he wouldn’t hurt his loved ones.
Al Ghul was roaring now in his fever to cause the boy’s cries, thrusting so
mercilessly that certainly his slave was feeling his spine slowly breaking and
his tantalizing ass being filled with melted hot iron.
He couldn’t swallow his screams anymore and then they became weak whines and he
knew that his master was beaming satisfied.
“You’ll serve me to destroy Superman” he said and his hand clenched around his
balls as he was thrusting.
“But…” he tried to find some air in his constricted lungs “he fights the evil…”
he screamed as the invading flesh impaled him deeper.
“He is an obstacle and you’ll take it away” he could hear his sneer.
“How, Master?” he whined “I’m just a human being…”
“You’re a fool, child!” he tightened his grip on his balls and he felt them
squashed; his head was squeezed on the floor unable to find a more comfortable
angle, as his master wished, and his knees ached being rubbed on the rough
wood.“You’re anything but ‘just’ – you’re my great and secret weapon to destroy
him.”
He closed his eyes desperate: what new torture Ra’s was preparing for him?
“You’ll seduce him and then lure him to his death.”
“I? Seduce him? How?” he wanted to beg ‘don’t’ but this would make things worse
so he just shouted.
Al Ghul’s head was on his and he bit his ear.
“You seduced me; if you managed to seduce me, then Superman will be an easy
prey.” He wanted to say to him that he didn’t seduce him, hell, he didn’t even
know the exact meaning of the word then, but it would be futile. “Falcone will
start showing you off and given his stupidity he’ll treat you publicly as he
does privately; Superman won’t resist a suffering human being, especially one
so beautiful and enchanting as you… You’ll do what you  are  doing your entire
life: be a whore” he roared and Bruce’s knees subsided from the pain, the force
and the considerable weight of his master.
Yet the older man yanked him, fisting his drenched in sweat locks, his other
hand brushing a spot in his head making the pain he was feeling tenfold.
“Please!” he cried and Ra’s sniggered.
“If you fail to seduce him, I’ll know that you disobeyed me and your punishment
will be grave!” now his pace of pounding was frantic and the youth was wounding
his knees, trying desperately to stabilize them while the sweat made them
slither.
“And if…” he clenched his teeth but still the sob escaped “if he likes only…
women?”
“I prefer only women yet I cannot stop fucking you…”
His master was now pounding him relentlessly, making his head rubbed painfully
on the floor.
“But…how…destroy him?”
But his master grunted like a powerful lion and Bruce felt the hot semen
burning his irritated insides. Then he caressed his slave’s hair and sniggered.
“You don’t expect me to say it to my whore… ”
Bruce stirred, moaning and Clark felt the disturbance yet he was so weak that
he needed to persuade his eyes to open; it was worthwhile. Bruce’s half body
was lying beside him, his eyes velvety closed with his long eyelashes brushing
his high cheekbones, he was breathing so calmly that he wanted to kiss those
lips, having the unexplained impression that he knew how wonderful they tasted.
Bruce slept there to guard him, Bruce had saved him… He was safe if Bruce was
near him. He recruited all his slowly recovering strength to win the effect of
the drugs and lifted his fingers, touching that so soft looking brown hair. And
then exhaustion won and he was dragged in deep sleep.
“The only thing I need from you, foolish whore, is your body and that body I
was preparing for years to this end: to be a lethal weapon against the alien!”
he couldn’t see his master but could sense his gleeful smile and then his
death-bringing hands massaging brutally his exhausted, pained body.
Al Ghul’s fingers delved in his locks and his head was yanked upwards until his
torso became an arch and he could see his master’s face.
“Consider this your training for the big moment: when that Kryptonian fucks
you, it will be like a train crushing your body; it will be pain like the one I
give you. But when he approaches you and the closer he gets to you, the closer
his death will be.”
He closed his eyes.
“Maybe he won’t be attracted to me… perhaps he wouldn't even notice me…” moaned
as Ra’s began thrusting again without letting his body, his just spurted semen
sliding to his shaking legs.
“When Falcone does the foolishness to spread the rumor that he has Bruce Wayne
as his sex slave…”
He tensed and the swollen penis inside him felt like a metallic pipe.
“Yes, child; I persuaded him that spreading a rumor like this will increase
Gothamites’ admiration – not that they’ll do anything to help you; they are so
corrupt, rot – and his power status. Superman will be hooked to search if the
supposed dead child is the poor slave Falcone has. And once hooked, a hooker
like you will make him his slave… for my purposes…Your body will make the rest…
Your body, your body I’ve been preparing for years…”
The training room vanished and he saw himself, no more than fifteen years old,
on a medical chair his legs spread wide for Ra’s’ healers to smear the odd
looking oil everywhere. His desperate gaze was focused on his master’s
glistening eyes; he was sitting beside him and had the boy’s jaw cupped
reassuringly. And then they following the same daily routine turned him on his
stomach, the strange lukewarm substance being applied everywhere, even inside
his anus. His heartbeat was like consistent kicks on his ribs as six hands was
touching him and his eyes were teary and Ra’s caressed his locks, leaning on
his ear. He hushed him, his lips tracing his jaw line, trying to soothe him
from trembling.
The strange ‘medical’ room dissolved and he was on the rooftop as Batman not
the scared boy and he had his back on Superman who was speaking to him wanting
to comfort him, yet for him only the photos in his hands mattered.
And suddenly the hissing sound of something small and sharp ripping the air and
before even thinking about it he surged on his friend to take him away from the
bullet’s course. But his gloves were still wet with blood, the bullet having
pierced Superman’s shoulder…
How Superman with his super hearing didn’t hear what he heard? Ok, he was
trained to catch even the smallest sounds yet Superman had that without any
training. Why his acute hearing failed him suddenly?
Bruce opened his eyes with that question lingering. It was still dark and the
nightstand’s clock read 4am – he didn’t need to turn the light on to see it. He
felt stiff; he had slept leaned on the mattress close to Superman’s body.
He jolted, those flashbacks – dreams freezing him.
“Your body will make the rest…”
He rose from the chair and walked away from the bed: at least, Clark looked
fine, his breathing normal, without a trace of pain, his color rosy and…a very
jubilant smile on his so relaxed and so beautiful from sleep’s caress face.
He bit his lip and shook his head: poor Clark… He thought and felt dread
realizing that he had brought him in his bedroom for better and this could make
him worse.
He hastily retreated and burst out of the room. The cave! Some thoughts
spurting in his mind.
The cave was eerie empty, peacefully silent apart from the waterfall at the
entrance and the low humming of the processor. He walked to the place he had
left his discarded suit and found it neatly positioned in its case. He smiled.
“My good Alfred.”
He frowned when realized that the photos weren’t in the suit and thus Alfred
had seen them… He sighed.
He opened the leaden compartment of his belt and took carefully the strange
looking piece of Kryptonite; he rolled it in his fingers. It was the same green
glowing mineral yet it had black veins, like onyx.
He went to the working bench and with his forensic tools scrapped his friend’s
flesh from the surface, putting it in a small airtight case repeating the
process for the blood. Then, he dropped the bullet in a small leaden box and
put it in his jeans pocket to take it with him at Wayne Enterprises. His eyes
strayed to the photos of the murdered family that Alfred left there.
“Master Bruce, you’re already awake?”
He turned to his loyal friend.
“Yes, Alfred.” His butler was still in his pajamas and robe and the British
didn’t feel so good about it. “I woke up…”
“Another flashback, sir?”
Bruce rolled his eyes; for pity’s sake, that same question again and again!
“Thoughts, Alfred…”
Alfred approached him and looked at the photos in his young master’s hands.
“I’m sorry, Master Bruce.” He whispered.
The youth just nodded.
“Can you check on Clark, please?”
Alfred smiled although he knew that his young master tried to change the
subject from himself.
“I was there. I had constantly you and Master Kent on my mind and I checked on
you several times. It’s how I noticed that you weren’t in the bedroom and came
down here to find you.”
“How is he?”
“Exceptionally fine. No fever, no infection and his wound is healed – his
shoulder is exactly as if it was never shot. With a few hours of sun bathing
he’ll recover his powers, too; or at least that’s what I heard…” he shrugged.
“I’m not a Kryptonian expert…”
Bruce smiled; Alfred had the ability to make him smile all the times.
“Alfred, would be too much asking you to bring here those neglected biscuits?”
“Not at all, sir. Also, milk, orange juice and your supplements” he wanted to
inquire the reason that his young master didn’t want to come upstairs to eat
but he didn’t: the important was that he would eat. “How is your hand, sir? Do
you want me to bring you some pain killers?”
The young man’s hand was still a bit awkwardly positioned and obviously Bruce
was very careful with it.
“No, it doesn’t pain; it’s just the habit from the years of favoring it. Thank
you.”
He ate his breakfast in the cave and he thought to leave for the Wayne
Enterprises without returning to the master bedroom, but he had no intention to
transfer his entire attire down there. Maybe he would manage to prepare himself
before Clark was awake.
 
Clark opened his eyes slowly, weak sunrays brushing his face. He didn’t feel
any pain as last night and only the little load of the gauzes reminded him of
his injury. And his soaked in weakness body which began to suck the sun from
the huge window of the room. But he was feeling happy, not sick, light as a
feather and carefree as a child: Bruce had saved him and slept close to him to
look after him, his intoxicating scent all around him.
However, he wasn’t there right now – it was seven in the morning as the clock
read and he could catch some tiny sounds from the bathroom. Someone was getting
dressed. His hearing had already started to recover, now if only his vision was
as good… Shame on you, Kent, he berated himself, he saved your hide and you’re
only thinking how to peep him…
He heard the handle of the door to the bathroom, Bruce’s steps too silent to be
caught by his half-functioning hearing. The door opened almost soundlessly and
Bruce stepped out. Oh! That was indeed a good morning! He was impeccably
dressed in a dark brown fine stripped suit and a cream colored cotton shirt, a
brown tie completing his attire. His hair was rashly combed but still fine.
“You’re awake!” Bruce exclaimed as if caught in a mischief and Clark could
detect a slight…tremor?
He just smiled and nodded and Bruce for an instant was absorbed in his
glistening clear blue eyes.
“How you feel?” he asked without leaving his place far from Clark.
“Fine” he replied frowning for Bruce’s hesitation to come near him; he saw the
man sleeping almost at his side. “Like I was never being shot… Thank you,
Bruce: If you weren’t there, I’d have died.”
“You need to thank Alfred: he was who treated you” he answered coldly. “The
bullet was made from a strange kind of Kryptonite with black veins – I’ll
search it” he continued in business mood. “Also, I couldn’t follow the culprit
but tonight I’ll research the area.” His eyes became warmer yet he didn’t move
closer. “You’ll rest here as long as you need; you’re lucky” he smiled and
Clark saw a child in his eyes, a tired but smiling child, “the weather forecast
spoke about sunshine today, so you’ll be able to recover.”
Clark remembered that he wasn’t just Superman.
“I must call the Planet.”
“I already did that: I said that you’re down with the flu and you needed the
day off.”
“And who said all that?” he asked suspicious.
“But Clark Kent. I mimicked your voice” he said changing his voice in something
much like Clark’s “it’s not perfect but it is supposed that you’re ill and they
swallowed it.”
“Wait! Perry has call recognition in his phone… He surely saw Gotham’s number.”
Bruce tilted his head, smirking, a naughty lock half hiding his wicked eye.
“I can change the calling number to whatever I want” he gestured to him “this
time I used your apartment’s phone number. So you don’t have anything to worry
about. Just get well…”
But he had so many things to worry about… He watched Bruce heading for the
bedroom’s door, keeping as much distance as he could. Something was off.
“Bruce…”
His Star turned frustrated.
“Alfred will be here in a moment with your breakfast; I have to leave before
reporters swarm the place…”
“Bruce, we have to talk.”
He clutched once the door handle, lowering his head and then released it and
distanced from the door, without however approaching.
“About what, Clark?”
So many things… Yet, let me start from the less…
“How did you know my kryptonian name?”
Bruce felt a shiver.
“Ra’s Al Ghul was studying you; remember how well prepared he was to fight you
and his efficiency?”
Clark remembered yet he remembered more how efficiently Bruce had repelled him.
“Yours too…” he smiled but Bruce didn’t share his good mood.
“He had me watch videos with your battles – courtesy of Luthor I guess – and in
one of these, your enemy, a funny dressed guy who called himself General Zod,
was addressing you as ‘Kal El’. Ra’s told me that this is your alien name.”
“He knew about Clark Kent, too?” he frowned.
Bruce shook his head in negation.
“He actually didn’t believe that you have a secret identity; he reckoned that
you were living in a secret base with others of your kind and you were
preparing to conquer Earth – that your kindness was an act for the fool so to
catch us unready.”
“So he was prepared and developed his abilities to defeat me…” Clark was deep
in thought.
Bruce pressed his lips: not only his abilities…
Clark abandoned his thoughts about how dangerous was Ra’s Al Ghul and how
admirable Bruce was to manage to defeat that man. There were more important and
urgent matters and first of all, that awful clown.
“That man, Bruce, that clown is really dangerous.”
“I saw the evidence of that…” he nodded.
“Dangerous for you, Bruce” and I’m dangerous for you, Clark, Bruce thought.
“About a month ago I… saw a nightmare about you being…” Bruce pierced him with
his glare “hurt by him – not that I saw him, but I heard his voice. And he said
the same things he said in the video” Clark felt like an idiot – although
idiots don’t feel their idiocy, right? “Maybe you should leave Gotham until we
catch him…” and be safe in my Fortress…
Now he was doomed! Bruce’s eyes became blades as Batman’s must be under the
lenses and he was stabbing him fiercely.
“What are you saying? Run and hide abandoning my city in the mercy of a madman
who’ll go crazier if Bruce Wayne leaves? You saw what he did to Falcone and to
that innocent family that had the misfortune to bear a resemblance to the
Waynes. You saw that poor child…” his voice was drowned and Clark swallowed
hard for his friend’s pain yet Bruce raised his head defiantly. “I won’t let my
city unprotected to a filthy criminal’s moods.”
“He is a threat to you, Bruce, he is so infatuated that he even knows about
when Falcone forced you to curse your parents!’’
He closed his eyes, not again that…
“He tortured Falcone to learn everything about me, but…” suddenly something
flashed in his mind. “Wait! How YOU knew about that?!”
Clark was flushed; he could lie that he heard it on the video for the first
time yet he doubted if Bruce would believe him.
“You were indeed outside Tony’s house that night…” he said hoarsely,
remembering Tony’s words about something unknown floating at the side of his
bedroom.
“Bruce, look, I…” how could he tell Bruce that that night he had masturbated
with his heartbeat and then continued monitoring his vitals? “Sometimes my
hearing catches heartbeats that are familiar and that night I heard your heart
racing and you screaming and begging and I thought that Stark’s house was under
attack and rushed there… And… and even when I saw that was a nightmare, I saw
you so death-pale and so ill that I remained to make sure that you won’t…”
Bruce lifted his hand to stop him; Clark was feeling like an ass, it was
obvious, and he wanted to give an end to his friend’s embarrassment. So this
was the explanation for Clark kissing Lois: having heard what he had done then,
he realized how filthy he was and understood that it was better for him to run.
“I guess… it’s better that way…” he commented, at least now Clark knew and he
wouldn’t have to repeat all these things.
Clark was dumbfounded. When he was thinking of this moment, he thought that
Bruce would have been furious; he would have cursed him, sent him to Hell and
thrown him out. And now he just… Surely, he was blaming himself for his injury
and was feeling guilty and that’s the reason he didn’t get mad at him.
“I must leave now, Clark; reporters would crucify people to get to me and I’m
responsible for all these…” Clark was seeing the shadow in his beautiful eyes.
“Bruce, it wasn’t your fault…” he wanted to hug him yet he didn’t know if his
friend would stand it.
Bruce shook his head in exasperation.
“It is so easy for you to say… Four people died on my name and another one was
shot because of me.”
 “I had seen him again, I mean before the video” he gulped for the guilt that
tormented his already suffering so much friend – he wanted to make Bruce blame
him instead. “He attacked Luthor in his office furious because he harassed you;
he threw him from the window and I saved him, giving the clown time to vanish.
He, also, mentioned Batman.”
Bruce raised his eyebrows in sarcasm.
“He wants the whole package… Why you didn’t tell me?”
Clark lowered his eyes: now they had reached the center of the center.
“Because I had failed you with Chechen…” Bruce shook his head in frustration.
“You didn’t fail me: every mission has its mishaps and you saved a human life
which values more than an arrest. I’d have done the same thing…”
Clark bit his lip.
“About Lois… I mean the kiss…”
Bruce cut him with a definite gesture.
“You don’t have to explain…”
“Yeah, I have!’’ he replied in emphasis. “I don’t want you to believe that I
didn’t mean what I told you in the graveyard.”
“I know you meant them…’’ then but afterwards you faced the truth about me and
understood that I’m not worthy of you… He smiled. “But things change, Clark,
and I’m happy you finally woke up from that.”
Clark’s eyes widened. He made to rise from the bed to come to Bruce and that
made his friend at last rush to him to rest him back on the mattress. Clark
found Bruce’s hair under his lips and the perfume of his shampoo enchanted him.
Bruce sensing Clark’s hot breath on his locks raised slowly his head and his
eyes found Clark’s.
“Lois was drugged” Clark whispered, locking his gaze with Bruce’s; the feel of
his body so close a real torture.
“But you weren’t…” he replied solemnly and made to leave the bed.
Clark held his arms to halt him and noticed an almost non-existent cringe and a
motion of the right hand to evade the grasp. He brushed his friend’s arms
realizing that Bruce had hurt his sensitive hand to save him.
“You injured your vulnerable hand to carry my dead weight…” he wanted to kiss
those rosy, velvet lips; Bruce’s eyes were so child-like. “I’m sorry…”
“It’s nothing, Clark… although you can use a diet just in case I have to carry
you again.”
Clark sensed Bruce’s tenseness and he knew that he was going to leave.
“Bruce, it was your lips I wanted to kiss that day… every day” he lifted his
eyebrows. “Lois was kissing me and I needed to kiss you so I found solace… I’m
ashamed of myself…”
Bruce hurried to detach himself and walked away from the bed, retching Clark’s
heart.
“Clark, you must stop thinking like this. For me… Why don’t you give it a try
with Lois? She is a remarkable woman, beautiful, dynamic, warm, pure flame and
there is something between you two, that kiss wasn’t by chance…”
Clark shook his head in denial frustrated; he had hoped that Bruce would have
stopped thinking like this.
“We’re friends, good friends and there could be nothing more between us. Bruce,
I… I only want you” there: he said it.
But his friend looked distraught, like he had thrown him in a deep pit.
“Clark, don’t…” his eyes were stony. “I can’t and you shouldn’t waste your time
with someone like me.” Clark opened his mouth to tell something but Bruce
didn’t let him. “As a matter of fact, I believe is for the best if you stayed
as far as possible from me!”
Now Clark felt the moment the kryptonite bullet pierced him all over again. He
did it! He made Bruce not want to see him again… And he had opened the door
ready to leave.
“I can’t be away from you, especially when a dangerous lunatic has an obsession
with you…” he flushed hearing his own words; it was as if this lunatic was
himself. “Bruce, I can wait for you as long as you need me to… It’s not just a…
carnal desire, please believe me.” He saw him lowering his eyes almost
desperate. “I love you.”
“You seduced me; if you managed to seduce me, then Superman will be an easy
prey.”
“Don’t!” Bruce jerked as if bitten by a snake. “Stop that crap! Find someone
else to love! I’m not made for this…” he saw Clark shaking his head in denial
with his lips half open ready to say something and lowered his eyes. “How much
more you need to hear to get that I’m a sack of shit and back off?’’ his voice
was low pitched but strong and even “Get over it! I’m no good for you!”
“Bruce…” but his Star had already vanished, only the heavy oak wood of the door
in his place. “Why?” he whispered. Bruce had snapped his words but he could
detect the despair: what was that made that brave man so desperate to repel
him, to make him stop caring?
 
***** Chapter 18 *****
Chapter Notes
     Happy New Year to everyone with Health, Happiness, Peace and Hope!
That was great; Bruce thought heading to the main staircase to leave for the
Wayne Enterprises. A deep, throbbing exhaustion was wearing him away slowly.
And it was only the beginning, a difficult day stretching ahead, sneering at
him.
He first saw and then became slowly aware that it was Tony leaning with his
elbow on the wooden rail near the landing. He was holding a cup of edicing
smelling coffee and was watching him with his eyebrows raised and his carbon
eyes indecisive between complaining and questioning.
Bruce stood before him.
“Hi, Tony, what are you doing here?”
His friend left the rail and sipped calmly his coffee. Then he shrugged.
“Affirming your alibi” he made with his fingers the quotation marks. “Ironman
took you with him and he should bring you back, right? Those guys out there got
a distant glimpse to satisfy them.”
Bruce’s eyes widened.
“They are already here?”
Tony nodded without changing his inquisitive stare.
“Outside the Manor’s bounds but here…” he put the cup on the small round table
by the wall. “You’re exhausted, right?” his eyes changed to pure concern. “To
forgot your own scheme…”
Bruce closed his eyes and ruffled his hair.
“I’m fine, Tony… Is just that so many things happened last night…” both in
reality and my thoughts.“Thank you for taking care of that.”
He motioned to pass Tony to descend the stairs but his friend caught his upper
arm, stopping him, the inquiring, too solemn for Tony’s standards, look in his
eyes. Bruce stared at him intrigued, his right hand in Tony’s loose hold
protesting: how much more complex his life could get?
“Had we a quarrel that I don’t remember?” Tony’s voice was low not exactly
demanding yet serious and complaining simultaneously.
Bruce’s eyes widened confused.
“Wh…what?” he frowned. “Why? No. Of course not!” he felt as if he should defend
himself.
Tony didn’t let his hand.
“Then why you’re avoiding me? Why you’re shutting me out?”
Bruce shook his head in denial.
“No, Tony. I’m not!” he protested.
But Tony pierced him with his immobile eyes as if trying to read him.
“Last night, when I saw that video and heard that nutcase threatening you, I
was worried sick. I called and Alfred told me that you went out – I wanted to
come here to find you but Alfred advised me to give you some time. I expected
that you’ll at least speak to your best friend!” he tightened slightly his
grasp and felt Bruce cringing a bit; he let his friend’s arm, caressing it with
his fingertips. “You’re injured…” his irritation became instantly concern.
“Look, Tony, I didn’t think that you would have seen the video; the
transmission was only in Gotham” he wanted to dissolve his friend’s bitterness.
Tony tilted his head with his lips in a tight line and nodded.
“Bullshit, little guy” he said sternly and raised his sharp stare at Bruce’s
face, the younger man feeling his spine cold. “You told Alfred to call me and
alert me to your ‘alibi’ – what? You think me so indifferent or dummy that I
wouldn’t ask or search what happened?”
Bruce sighed.
“I’m sorry, Tony, I… Gordon had the light on and he informed me that this man
killed a family and I saw the photos and…” he didn’t want to tell his waiting
friend that he felt devastated. “I needed to think and then… other things
happened…”
Tony raised an eyebrow in sarcasm, crossed his arms  and tilted his head,
leaning at the rail.
“You mean the lying on your bed Superman that you don’t want to tell me about?
You know, with my helmet I can scan buildings…”
Bruce felt irritated.
“You scanned my bedroom?” he exclaimed.
“I was worried, OK?” Tony said nonchalant; after all he had every right to be
the angry one not this mischievous little guy. “And I didn’t except to find a
man” he pouted his lips in thought “an alien in your bed – thank goodness, he
was dressed and you in the bathroom…”
The younger man shook his head in disbelief and began descending the steps.
“Maybe we got dressed after we finished…” he said to tease Tony who instantly
took the bait, uncrossed his arms and hurried to follow him.
“You… you and he… He did… - you know - you?”
Bruce smirked at Tony’s bulged, desperate eyes.
“Com’ on, Tony” he exclaimed serious; he didn’t want to tell his friend that
there was no chance he’d let anyone touch him again. “He saw that damn video,
too and rushed here” he continued calmly “someone shot him with kryptonite and
I brought him here: master bedroom is the room that gets the most sun radiance
and he’d be benefited.”
“Someone shot him?” Tony’s eyes were gleaming wickedly. “I have to send flowers
to that fella…”
Bruce rolled his eyes at him stepping to the ground floor. And Tony shrugged
innocently.
“One time I chose to be the good kid and listen to an elder and look what
happened: that alien came to you while I should be there…”
“To be shot?” Bruce snapped.
“Nah” he shook his head half smiling “not me, little guy; I’m way too smart to
be busted!”
Bruce sighed but put his hands on his friend’s shoulders.
“Nobody can take your place in my heart, Tony” he said slowly, his eyes locked
with his friend’s.
Tony swallowed and nodded. He pointed with his finger at Bruce’s right arm.
“And you were injured…”
“I just dislocated my arm while carrying Superman but I put it back and now is
a bit sore – nothing to worry about. Clark is the one who had a rough time…’’
He took his briefcase from the tallboy and headed to the door that led to the
garage and Tony frowned.
“Eh, eh, eh! Where are you going?”
Bruce turned to him.
“To Wayne Tower of course. I’m sorry I can’t stay for breakfast but I’ve
already eaten and I must go as soon as possible to lure the bunch of reporters
out there to follow me instead of annoying Alfred and…”
“Your alien friend…” Tony nodded frustrated. “Bruce, maybe you should – you
know – for a couple of days…” he saw his friend’s eyes getting really dark.
“Tony, I’m not little Bruce anymore; I can defend myself.”
“Not while being Bruce Wayne…”
He inhaled deeply; he was seeing agony in Tony’s eyes.
“I admit that I thought to pretend that I’m leaving scared from this man’s
threats, so that my other work is unhindered. However, you saw what he did to
that family…” Tony pressed his lips and nodded; he felt Bruce’s pain and guilt.
“If he learns that Bruce Wayne left, he’ll take his frustration on innocent
people. And that I can’t bear it! Why are you all so frightened of him,
anyway?”
“Because he threatens you…” he said low, his eyes on Bruce’s. “I won’t lose you
again.”
Bruce realized that Tony was repeating the same phrase during their meetings
like a mantra; a kind of spell as if he didn’t believe that Bruce was real and
that he’d disappear at any time. He grinned reassuringly.
“You won’t, Tony. But you must understand that I can’t abandon Gotham now.’’
Tony scratched his head.
“Maybe Gotham wants you to…” he hesitated till now to mention that but apart
from the fact that he’d eventually find out, now he could use it as a
negotiation weapon.
He unfastened from his belt his Stark - made, one of a kind, super-cell phone
and showed Bruce an article at the Gotham News site. There was his photo from
the GCPD’s ball, Joker’s grotesque beaming face right beside him and underneath
a snapshot from the video of Falcone’s awfully disfigured suspended body, the
photos of the murdered Phelps family and of the written with blood message on
their wall. Big bold black letters underneath formed the article’s title:
The Prince Plague of Gotham by Adam Bert.
Bruce lifted an eyebrow and handed the phone back to Tony, without bothering to
read the article.
“He was in Falcone’s payroll and he spits his poison. After all, he has many
troubles explaining to IRS how he managed to buy those villas in Hawaii and
Miami.”
Tony closed his eyes and raised his hands in surrender.
“There’s nothing I can say or do to change your mind?”
Bruce patted his shoulder and smirked, winking.
“Nothing and I must go, Tony, so…”
“So, I’ll come with you… To see how you treat my baby” he tilted his head
smiling wickedly.
Bruce scowled and he was ready to rant to Tony, reminding him that he wasn’t a
baby and especially not a defenseless man, when the tune of ‘Eye of the Tiger’
filled the space. He looked at Tony disbelievingly and the older man, although
frustrated by the call, shrugged and raised his eyebrows.
“Fury has the eye of the tiger… Literally, one eye…” he muttered, looking at
his cell because he didn't use that horrible beeprs S.H.I.E.L.D. gave them,
frowned. "I begin to think that they do it on purpose: always a mission, when
I’m near you… Ugh! That job began as part time and became full time – I’ll
demand a raise.”
“You found anything on S.H.I.E.L.D.?”
“Nah… It was a piece of cake to hack their files only that there was nothing
except than information about us – you believe that they have me as unreliable,
alcoholic playboy? I mean, hey pal!” he hardened his voice “if I am all these
things, then why you wanted me?! Assholes!”
Bruce smiled amused.
“But nothing on the Directors – I begin to believe that Fury is directing
everything and simply sells us the fairytale of the Directors to impress us or
give the aura of a powerful, complex scheme. At least, we have a name” he took
in Bruce’s puzzled stare gestured to himself “me and the other kids; I chose
it: the Avengers! Huh? What you say?”
Bruce laughed.
“The Avengers? Really, Tony?” he sniggered. “This is the name of an old TV
series…”
“Damn! I knew it sounded familiar…” but then shrugged, tilting his head. “Who
remembers that anyway?”
“I do!”
“But you’re a geeky brat – you don’t count!”
“You must go or Fury will be furious…”
Tony shrugged.
“Who cares? Besides with the money I give them I’m his employer; after all,
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s school bus-plane is so slow that I’ll be there before them. I
must remember to build a plane for the gang but… After I take you to the
doctors: you need good ol’ Tony to hold your hand, eh? - mmm… tomorrow?” he saw
Bruce’s amusement leaving his face and used the puppy eyes, pouty lips weapon.
“That trick works once you know… Tony, be careful!” he said and before Tony
opened his mouth he had vanished.
“Damn that ninja training!” he exclaimed and then rolled his eyes. “Another
cliché! Ugh! Tony, you’re repeating yourself, com’ on, hunk! Avengers?”
He opened the huge window, activated the Ironman suit and flew, hoping that
Alfred wouldn’t be mad at him for breaking that vase…
 
The pack of eagerly waiting reporters outside the Wayne Manor’s gates – which
remained locked even at daytime after the Napier incident – saw a flash of
shiny black passing them in a blur with a thunderous sound and they realized
that Wayne had ‘escaped’ from another entrance of the Manor.
A cloud of curses wrapped the human assortment as they dispersed to their vans
knowing that there was no chance they’d caught the last Wayne and that their
colleagues that chose to haunt Wayne Tower instead were those who would catch
the prey.
Bruce brushed the steering wheel smirking satisfied, listening to the
reporters’ curses from the microphones of the car and stepped gently on the
accelerator to feed them his dust and lure them away from the Manor and the
people inside.
“Open to Gotham City Radio” he ordered the AI and instantly the voice of the
newscaster filled the cabin from the digital sound system.
He pressed his lips; he hated hearing his name being again the subject of
discussion and especially such a grave discussion. Police had found Falcone’s
half burned body in a dump, the coronary’s report saying that his death was
slow, the burnings and the slicing in his belly not enough to finish him off.
Also, his body was covered and mutilated from bites of animals which were made
before he died. A joker card was branded with hot iron on his chest…
Bruce tightened his grasp on the wheel. He should have felt satisfied, even
jubilant by his tormentor’s slow, horrific death, yet his guts were twisted and
he had a huge void in his chest. Stockholm’s Syndromehis friends would have
said if they imagined what he was feeling. No, he wasn’t attached to his
abuser, though almost all his life was tied with the mobster. He wanted his
punishment for what he did to his parents and Gotham’s people and him of course
but not like this… He hated him yet he couldn’t stop that hollow feeling.
And then they began recounting the coronary’s report for the poor Phelps and he
felt as if they were numbering his victims. The parents’ time of death was
previous to that of the child: Mrs. Phelps died first from a bullet in the
heart and Mr. Phelps died afterwards; he was firstly wounded and then executed
with a bullet on the forehead. But Joker took his time with the poor boy; Brian
– poor kid, even his name was similar to his - was shot twice at his right
hand, then his lips were sliced to the middle of his cheeks and then killed
with a bullet to his heart.
The newscaster proceeded to read the message on the wall and referred to the
fact that the criminal left his ‘calling card’ in the form of a joker playing
card.
His head throbbed. He felt again the two burning pieces of metal piercing his
hand, the pain so extreme that his legs were cut underneath him but his dying
father was calling to him to run and he did so… His tears from the pain, the
terror and the ripped from his chest heart was sending boiling tears that
flooded his burning hot face and blurring everything around him. The slumped
people around looked hostile, monsters eager to eat him alive, too. And his
legs were shaking, his whole body weak on the edge of collapsing, the blood
running away from his body, his stomach sick… And then Chill’s blade, the man
ready to do what Joker did to that poor child…
He took his testimony at the court and repeated the crime; he gave Joker the
script for his ‘play’… Falcone’s horrifically maimed body and his yells of pain
returned to pierce his mind, and then the Phelps, husband and wife, killed
together, and then the disfigured face of the little boy, his dark blue eyes
bulged from pain, terror and questions: why? He felt his body going cold like
when the substance they applied on his body was absorbed and Superman’s – no
Clark’s – death pale face came in front of his eyes, pleading him to show him
his eyes before he dies… Ra’s was right: he made Bruce, he created a monster
like Frankenstein did but he was devilish enough to make his monster
attractive… And he was so naïve to believe that actually Al Ghul wanted to help
him – a foolish whore, indeed. But why?
He felt a wave of fury; he was angry with Falcone, with Ra’s, with Joker, with
himself… And the small tombstone between the tombstones of his parents, waiting
there empty, filled his brain… Why all these?
“Mr. Wayne, your heartbeat isn’t normal, your breath uneven and you are
suffering from a severe headache: do you want me to take over and take you to
the nearest hospital?”
Bruce was yanked from his flashback dumbfounded: Tony took special care for
this, too. He rubbed his beating temple and focused on the street.
“Or do you want me to call Mr. Stark? His co-ordinates at the moment are…”
“No, thank you; I’m fine. Close the radio and play the theme from Serpico.”
They were already inside the city’s limits and he didn’t want anything to
disorient him from the road.
As he was approaching the Wayne Tower, he pressed the scan button on the touch
screen and saw the indication of an unbelievable big crowd having under siege
the main entrance of the building. He sighed; he still felt the urge to run and
hide in a shadowy corner to avoid people yet he knew that he had to face it. So
he decided against making a detour that would take him immediately to the
underground parking.
But the view of the commotion in front of the building made him dizzy: there
were more than 200 reporters and photographers!
“In order for you to survive” Ra’s’ imposing and soothing voice filled his head
and he felt a paralyzing nostalgia for the years he actually was feeling warmth
under the demon’s wing “you must never let people get the better of you; if
they manage to get under your skin, you’re doomed. But you’re better than them,
child…” his voice had become deep and his eyes had dived inside his, a warm
wave of reassurance and confidence filling his abused body. “You’re so much
better from them, child! You must fool them feigning that you’re less than you
truly are, but you must never forget that they can’t beat you, because you’re
the survivor; you dived in Hell and swam courageously till you reached the
surface… They’re nothing because you’ve experienced everything and you have the
knowledge to play them in your fingers… You have nothing to fear from these
people…” the lion-like man had kissed him affectionately on his forehead.
Only that Ra’s was already submerging him in an even deeper Hell… Bruce stopped
the car smoothly in one of the parking spaces of the Wayne Enterprises, brushed
the button for auto parking so the car will go to the underground parking,
picked his briefcase from the passenger’s seat and got out of the car to a
stampede of camera clicks and the roaring of the media beast that seeing his
unique car surged there, the men of the security hardly containing them at a
safe distance.
He made his stare quiver a bit on the view of so many people gaping at him –
remember to not show them your true capabilities – and he raised his hands in a
gesture for calmness.
“Please, I’m here, I’ll answer your questions. There’s no need for such panic –
someone could get hurt…” his voice was steady but he gave to it a slight
tremble.
 
Rachel Dawes dressed in a too short jean skirt and a half buttoned white cotton
shirt was watching TV, sitting cross legged at Napier’s relatively modest hotel
room. She was smoking her cigarette wearing a white blond short haired wig. Her
eyes were amused watching live the pack of reporters circling the seemingly
overwhelmed Bruce Wayne.
The door to Jack’s bedroom opened and the man walked whistling to the sofa,
wearing his ‘canary’ suit – his favorite after hearing Brucey’s comment. His
eyes immediately shone wickedly upon catching a glimpse of the TV screen and he
slithered beside Rachel leaning towards the TV set to not lose any detail.
“My favorite program: Bruuuucey and his car! Ow! I should have pop corn…”
Rachel cast him a furious sideways glance. But Jack was absorbed in the
spectacle.
“Hmm… Maybe I kill tho-se guys… They got tooooo close…”
 
“He’s right, guys!” an infuriated, passionate female voice towered every other
and Bruce saw the always pleasant brunette figure of Lois Lane. “You act like
barbarians! Pfff! Relax, people!”
Clark’s excuse won’t be revealed by Lois visiting his apartment, he thought.
“You’re having fun with Stark and a family was murdered because of you!” a man
yelled angry and self righteously and some others shouted their agreement.
Napier nodded and gestured to the air.
“Maybe I kill Stark, too? I dooon’t approve such ‘friendships’” he shook his
head frantically. “Friendship…Buuulshit! I heard the rumors… Buuut if he
becomes oour best man, I might change my mind. Hmm… And if the gift is goooood,
like daaaat car…” he frowned. “But marrying Bru-cey means that I get everything
he has soooo…”
 
“Did you see the photos, Wayne?!”
Napier spread his hands in the air expectantly.
“Yup… Diiiiiid youuuu?! Because if you didn’t, why I’m busting my ass off
here?”
“Yes, I did.” He closed his eyes for a second.
“Gooood boy!” Napier’s eyes gleamed maddeningly.
 “And I’m devastated, though I know that this doesn’t make any difference… But
being here would have saved their lives?”
For a bit the pack was appeased and Lois beamed at him and Jack sobered.
“The cute family would still be dead but IIIIIII wouldn’t be soooo disappointed
on yourrrr aattitude! But I mi-ght forgive youuuu since you’re burning hoot –
even if these clothes hide the reeeal gooooodies…”
Rachel glared at him and sucked her cigarette.
“And how do you know his goooodies?” she mocked him and raised an eyebrow in
sarcasm.
Napier turned to her acting surprised.
“Ow! You’re here, too, dear? I didn’t see ya! Hehehaha! I see you really love
that hair…” Rachel rolled her eyes and snorted. “Uuuuuu! I saw him naked” he
tilted his head “weeeell, half naked – thank ya for reminding me that” he
sighed. “His SIR butler went upstairs to see if he was sleeping and of course I
sneaked theeeere and buuurst in the room…” he closed his eyes. “Alas! He wore
the pajama bottom buuuut his ‘Penthouse’ was… Wuuuuf!” he barked “like a statue
of these naked ancient Gods only he looked soooo smooth…” he licked his covered
scars. “Ugh! That Falcone – God rest his soul!” Rachel rolled her eyes and
puffed the smoke from her cigarette “knew his thing…”
“Some people” Vale’s voice was heard clearly “say that since you whored
yourself to Falcone to stay alive you can do it again for Gotham’s people’s
sake – after all, we’re all in danger because of you!”
Lois grimaced; journalism in Gotham was so low that it reached the bottom of
the shit. And Jack’s humor left abruptly his face and his eyes glowered at the
blond reporter.
“Vale, you’re disgusting!” Lois snapped at her colleague. “This isn’t
journalism, this is sewage!”
Yet Bruce was calm, taking a slightly affronted face.
“Miss Vale, I failed to get any question from your speech. But I don’t know,
the ‘some people’ you mentioned is Mr. Bert of the Gotham News?”
Vicky Vale blushed and some others laughed.
Jack was still glowering at the screen and Rachel wondered how it didn’t crack.
“Bert?” he asked in a too serious voice.
Rachel nodded indifferent.
“Adam Bert; he wrote a despicable article about Wayne being the Plague of
Gotham.”
“And that he “whored himself to Falcone’’?” he highlighted every syllable. “I
know where Joker will be tonight…” he murmured.
“Mr. Wayne, what are you going to do for this man’s threats?” Lois asked with
professionalism but Bruce could detect her sincere interest in her hazelnut
eyes.
“Threats.Me, hon?” Jack exasperated mocking the hurt. “I just want to mak’ my
Bruceyyyy smile; wher’s the threat in that? Oh! I’m sooooooo misunderstood!”
“Poor thing…” Rachel spat jeeringly.
“Why, Rachie? I just killed a family to show Brucey that worse things could
have happened to him: you saw what I did to that poor kid…”
Rachel closed her eyes and shook her head irritated.
“I won’t deny that I’m afraid, Miss Lane… But I trust Gotham’s Police and I
know that they’ll stop that man. I feel fully protected.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Wayne! You have Ironman and Superman babysitting
you and you can run to your buddy’s palace-fortress in Malibu while that madman
kills us in your name! That’s the plan, right?”
Bruce stretched his head.
“Tony Stark, Ironman, is indeed my friend and he protects people whether his
friends or completely strangers; he and Superman helped Gotham not only me. And
since you asked: no, I won’t leave Gotham; I have too many things to do and no
time to waste. The official opening of the Thomas and Martha Wayne’s Haven
first of all.”
“Do you believe that Joker served justice to Falcone?” Alex Knox asked.
Bruce lowered his eyes for an instance.
“Joker is a cruel criminal.”
Jack’s eyes bulged and his mouth stayed agape, forming ‘me?’ while his finger
pointed his chest.
“He is neither a judge nor jury. He is no better than Falcone and he proved it
with what he did to Phelps…”
“Me? No better than Falcone? Ouch! That hurt, baaaaaby; daddy Joker will spank
you as Falcone diiiid… I’m putting you in therapy, doing to others what that
baaaaad people did to you to heal you and youuuuuu berate me!”
“Flooding therapy, huh?” Rachel commented, crushing her cigarette in the
ashtray. “You’re sick, Jackie…”
He shrugged, never removing his eyes from the screen.
“Wow! That’s the con – clusion of the yeeeear, darling! You’re toooooo tense
today; still mad that I made the kid smile? Nah! I never thought you of the
breast filter…”
Rachel’s glare was like blades at his back and he turned and looked her.
“You don’t need a ‘breast filter’ to feel appalled from what you did; every
human being would have felt the same…”
Jack shrugged.
“I didn’t; the kid’s cries and screams were veryyyy lively – they made me crave
for Brucey’s juicy screams…”
“Exactly: I said human being and you are not!” she uncrossed her legs and
stood.
“Now, you huuuuuurt my fee-lings!” he said indifferently returning his gaze to
the screen.
“You don’t have any!”
“As if you do, you crazy bimbo!”
“Mr. Wayne, what would you say to this man?” Lois inquired.
Bruce’s eyes focused on the camera and Jack felt that he was piercing him.
“To murderers of innocent people and torturers of small children I have nothing
to say.”
Jack turned to Rachel who stood leaned on the wall with her hands folded on her
chest.
“His high cheekbo-nes have a pale red color – he is angrrrrry and his eyes are
sending flames. Uuuuuuuu! I want him like this our first time; bound to the
bed, bare naked and desperately scared and angrrrrry – and then I’ll fuck him
till his brain shatters… Oh! That scared – angry eyes…Ugh! My ‘cooomedy’ throbs
for his ‘traaagedy’!”
A man wearing the Wayne Enterprises ID rushed to Bruce, pushing aside the
shouting flock.
“Mr. Wayne, you need to com’ inside. You’re an easy target here.”
He almost dragged the young man away from the hostile group and inside the
Tower. Napier sighed and shut the TV.
“That man was familiar…”
Rachel nodded.
“He’s a former henchman of Falcone’s; he testified against his former boss in
the trial.”
“And Brucey trusts him? That’s innnsane!”
“If you want so much Wayne, why don’t you just grab him and fuck him and get
over with it?” she detached herself from the wall.
Napier looked at her and smirked.
“Where’s the fun in that? I looooove to play with my food; besides I want to
rule that shithole. I killed Falcone, so I’m his heir, I should take everything
he owned. Aaaand I want to meet Gotham’s other big attrrrraction: the flying
rodent! Hmmm… The next mayor should use that as a tourist magnet: com’ to
Gotham, beeee robbed, fucked and meeeet Batman! Uhuhuhu! I looooove Gotham!” he
got abruptly serious. “How’re things with Dent?”
She shrugged and raised an eyebrow.
“During the ball we agreed on meeting again but now with your snorters he’ll be
too busy for dates.”
He shook his finger in negation.
“No, no, no, dear; I need to learn everything about Brucey’s reactions and that
lad will be near him; plus I need to know their plans about Brucey’s protection
and against meeee…”
The young woman snorted.
“I’ll try to meet him today.”
“You do that, darling!”
 
Talia sat at the black velvet sofa of her grandiose office in the Palisades’
Manor. In front of her, the huge plasma TV on the wall was showing Bruce Wayne
at the entrance of Wayne Tower being bombarded by Gotham’s reporters. Her black
eyes were focused on her prey and her fingers were tapping the velvet of the
sofa’s back.
Bane entered silently the office and walked to her. She just raised her eyes to
his towering posture.
“It is confirmed” the man said. “The Kryptonite Dagget gave us as a sample is
missing from Luthor’s office…”
“As if we needed any confirmation…’’ she snorted “He hurried to use it…” she
looked again at the screen. “Luthor” she shook her head in disapproval and Bane
knew that not showing any sign of anger meant that she was really pissed and
dangerous. “We trusted him with the deal for the Dagget mine and he stabbed us
in the back! Idiot! I won’t give him Wayne Enterprises – I’ll rob him from
LexCorp, too, before I kill him. He heard how the other jerk threatened Bruce
and figured that Superman will rush in Gotham, so he called Dagget to have his
paid man ready. They must have prepared it during the deal, to test the new
Kryptonite and the threat against Bruce was the perfect bait. Luthor alerted
Dagget and he used Gotham’s public cameras to locate Superman – his hitman was
standby and rushed there. Of course Luthor didn’t imagine that we were watching
Dagget’s movements.”
“Batman was there, too.”
“You tortured the hitman?”
“Yes. He says that Batman heard the bullet and tossed Superman away so the
bullet just pierced his shoulder, yet Superman collapsed like a dead trunk.”
Talia nodded, her eyes glued on Bruce speaking to the reporters.
“Batman certainly saved his life…”
“The hitman run for it as soon as Superman got down and didn’t see the result.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Oh! I’m sure Batman thought something to save him – making an attempt against
Superman in Batman’s presence? How moronic! Kill that pitiful assassin…”
“As you wish.”
“And Batman heard the bullet coming while Superman didn’t? Intriguing…”
“Do you reckon that Batman is Wayne?”
“It is supposed that Stark took Wayne with him last night, but this man is a
master of deceit – he fooled my father, he could fool even a demon. In any
case, we’ll find out.”
She smiled cunningly.
“Look at him: father did a remarkable job on him. He puts on a brave face but
as someone scared would…”
“Maybe he is scared. That madman is dangerous; we underestimated him…”
She pressed her lips and waved her hand.
“Whatever he is, he can’t thwart our plans. The amusing thing is that Luthor
would be enhancing his personal guard already, believing that he’ll be the next
victim. Call Lex Luthor” she ordered and the TV was turned into Skype, an
irritated Luthor at the screen.
“You saw what that lunatic did? We have a major problem!”
She stretched her neck towards Bane and smiled.
“Trust problem?” she asked dragging her words turning her sharp gaze to Luthor
who flinched and frowned at the change of the adjective; Talia read his
internal wondering whether they knew about his deed or not. “I cherish
 loyalty too much, Lex, and I smash betrayal.”
Luthor stretched his head and tensed.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying but we have a major problem with that
clown; he’ll make all this more complex.”
“How?’’ she inquired confidently, enjoying his effort to toss away her hint.
“Gotham’s Police will be guarding Wayne closely and his personal security would
be tightened, not to mention Ironman and Superman who’ll be glued to his ass…”
“Superman, huh?” she glanced again at Bane who didn’t react, remaining the
statue guard. “Is Superman still a problem?”
Luthor blinked.
“But of course.”
“I forgive you, Lex…” she said imposingly, stabbing the man with her eyes
despite the distance.
He looked panicked and confused.
“What are you talking about?” he feigned the ignorant and the irritated.
Talia smiled lopsided.
“For stabbing me in my back, stealing the kryptonite and attempting to kill
Superman before I say so… And you collaborated with that snail Dagget?” she saw
amused the man’s widened eyes and drops of sweat on his face. “We captured your
dreadful assassin and we tortured him. I think that your embarrassing fail is
the best punishment for you. You see, Lex, I’m a charitable person; I
understand the weakness of the human nature and I… forgive it… The first time…”
she smiled and Luthor felt chills. “What were you saying?”
 “Superman and Ironman…”
She raised her palm to stop him.
“Don’t worry about Ironman. He and Superman won’t be an obstacle.”
Luthor shook his head exasperated.
“How are we supposed to approach Wayne when he is in the middle of an army of
police officers and superheroes?”
“Lex, are you manifesting signs of cowardice?” she snorted. “All these people
won’t be all the time with him…”
“I don’t understand.”
She shook her head amused.
“There are better ways than harshness or violence to trap a man…”
“Meaning?’’
Talia lifted an eyebrow and smirked.
“But gentleness and generosity of course… If you remember these terms of
course…” she said innocently.
 
Bruce followed Mr. Petrou and immediately the other security men closed the
path, halting the greedy reporter flock chasing them inside.
As soon as they entered the foyer which seemed strange with so many security
people there and too few non employees, Mr. Petrou stopped and Bruce did the
same. The man looked aflutter and Bruce sensed that he was on the verge of
grabbing him from the upper arms and shaking him.
“Mr. Wayne, for God’s sake! What are you doing?” his despair was evident.
The younger man stared at him puzzled.
“You’re like sitting duck out there!” he was exasperated now. “All these
rooftops ‘round have a clear shot and with this commotion anyone could burst
and shoot you or stab you! For God’s sake, son” he blushed “I mean, Mr. Wayne”
he stuttered “you lived among scum so many years, you should know better…” he
was rasping.
Bruce felt warmth from the man’s concern which he needed so much these last
hours… So, not every Gothamite considered him a menace. He smiled reassuringly.
“I don’t think that this man wants to kill me like this, Mr. Petrou; he prefers
more dramatic ‘performances’…”
Mr. Petrou shook his head in disbelief.
“Commissionaire almost ran to the street to take you from there but they wanted
secrecy so I told him I’d bring you in safe.”
“Commissionaire? They?” he frowned.
Mr. Petrou was already leading him to the lift.
“Commissionaire Gordon and Harvey… - I mean Mr. Dent - are waiting for you at
Mr. Fox’s office.”
“So early?”
Mr. Petrou gestured for him to enter the lift, then he embarked too and pushed
the button to the floor where Lucius’ office was. Of course his office opened
only with his fingertips and the Commissionaire and the DA couldn’t wait at the
hallway.
“Unlike you” he detected some reprimand in the former thugs’ voice “they
believe that there’s no time to waste.”
He led him to Lucius’ office – the secretary was absent after Lucius’ order -
and he immediately sensed the tense. Jim was sitting in the armchair in front
of Lucius’ desk, cleaning the lenses of his glasses, while Harvey clasping his
waist with both hands was watching the street bellow. Even Lucius seated at his
desk chair was agitated, despite the beaming smile with which he welcomed his
employer as soon as he entered the room.
Jim positioned hastily his glasses and stood, Harvey letting the window and
walking furiously at him.
“Good morning, gentlemen! Am I under arrest?” he inquired lightly.
“That’s a very good option!” Harvey snapped and Bruce felt that the young DA
meant it. “If that’s the only way to hinder you from doing stupid things!”
Bruce looked dumbfounded and Jim intervened always cool.
“Mr. Dent, please. There’s no need for such tenseness; nothing bad happened and
I’m sure Mr. Wayne would understand.”
“Mr. Wayne, if you don’t need me, I’ll return to my post” Mr. Petrou said, his
eyes on his son proud but a bit criticizing for his harsh manners to Bruce.
“Thank you, Mr. Petrou, for everything. You may go.”
The man left the room and Lucius stood and approached them.
“You’ll excuse me, too, but I must take care of some issues.”
“Lucius, I’d like to talk to you when you’ll have the time…” he tightened
unconsciously his grasp on the briefcase.
“I’ll be at Research and Development, Mr. Wayne” he winked and left the room.
“Please, have a seat. Can I offer you something?” he was the only host now.
Jim raised his palm and Harvey shook his head in denial.
“No need, Mr. Wayne” Jim said and resumed his seat, Harvey barely doing the
same.
Bruce took Lucius’s chair behind the desk.
“We need to talk about your security, Mr. Wayne. After the latest developments
the danger is very much existent and considerable.”
Bruce put his hands on the desk and stared at both of them.
“For the people of Gotham?”
Jim’s sad eyes looked sadder but quickly regained their professional stern.
Harvey, on the other hand, pressed his lips.
“Bruce, that man clearly threatened you and he is dangerous: you don’t expect
us to ignore that!” the DA gestured passionately.
“It is certain that he’ll try something against you” Jim commented.
“But until then he’ll keep killing innocent people as he did last night in my
name… Having that blood on my hands is more dangerous for me than this man.”
Harvey was ready to reply but Jim was there first.
“Son, you being attacked by this man won’t save people’s lives. I already have
chosen five officers to guard you 24/7.”
That was a disaster! Bruce thought and barely didn’t swallow hard. Five police
officers babysitting him all day, watching his every move… He shook his head in
dismissal.
“All these years Falcone had his thugs to guard me constantly; I don’t want
that all over again…”
Jim stared at him with his sincere, warm eyes.
“It’s not the same, son. They’d be discreet and won’t bother you” yeah,
sure…Bruce raised an imaginary eyebrow. “And you’ll be safe.”
Harvey was strangely silent just watching their exchange and Bruce felt
uncomfortable.
“Can you say the same thing for the people of Gotham? Will they be safe?”
Jim tilted his head and pressed his lips.
“Can you give five police officers to guard every citizen and every child?”
“Com’ on, Bruce…” Harvey said. “You know that’s impossible, yet Commissionaire
Gordon has already increased the number of officers patrolling the streets and
the popular sites. We’re doing the best we can for Gotham’s people’s security.
But you denying the detail won’t make things better. On the contrary, being
constantly worried about you will make our jobs more difficult.”
Jim stated his agreement, gesturing to Harvey.
“Well, your concern is touching yet I won’t have police officers occupied by
me. I’m a privileged man; I have already bodyguards. Furthermore Wayne Tower is
the safest place in Gotham courtesy of Lucius Fox’s genius, while Wayne Manor
is at the same level of security due to Tony Stark’s brilliant brain. My car is
impervious to attacks. And I know that every major event I might attend will be
guarded by Police. So I’m as safe as possible without taking precious officers
from the citizen’s protection.”
Jim rubbed his temple.
“Your life isn’t something to put on gamble, son” he said pointing every word.
“The way you’re thinking about Gotham would have made your parents proud but I
don’t intend on allowing another criminal to harm you.”
Bruce nodded.
“I appreciate your concern, Commissionaire. I know you’re a great and devoted
man of law and for that you’ll do whatever you can to protect Gotham’s citizens
– however, I have more than enough protection.” He laughed. “Sometimes I feel
overwhelmed by that and, as one reporter put it, I have Ironman watching over
me. So I think it very selfish to have five police officers all for me.”
Jim sighed and looked resigned at Harvey.
“A very democrat Prince…” he smiled. “We can’t force you to accept the detail
but, Bruce…”
“Harvey, I feel perfectly safe and secure and I want every citizen feeling the
same. They’re already being targeted and suffering because of me, imagine how
they’d feel finding out that the GCPD extracts five fine officers from their
protection to protect someone who is blessed with so powerful and resourceful
friends. And I know how hard it is to be unprotected, subject to a stronger
man’s violent intentions with nobody there to rely on.”
Harvey lowered for an instant his head and pursed his lips, while Jim was
staring at Bruce undecided between affection and anger. And Bruce knew that he
had won, at least for the moment.
Harvey stood abruptly, frustrated and pointed at Bruce, nodding.
“You’re crazy, you know that? Rich and famous have demanded police detail for
lesser and you preach us about how unfair it is for the others; you know, as
everyone knows, that he wants you and is mad and dangerous enough to not stop
until achieving his goal.”
“Or you arrest and stop him” Bruce added raising his eyebrows.
Harvey turned his head to Gordon who was doing what he knew better: listen
carefully, processing and seeing things that others didn’t.
“I hope Jim here enlists his friend’s, Batman’s, help because we’ll definitely
need it to protect that obstinate brat.’’
Jim stood and pressed his lips, then stared at Bruce with his concerned eyes.
“I don’t agree with you denying the detail, son, neither your parents would
have: you know, you still can’t wander alone at Narrows…” he pierced him under
his glasses.
Harvey looked at both of them puzzled, unaware of that small incident that met
the rooky officer Jim Gordon with the 8 year old Bruce.
Bruce felt bad for being unable to indulge Jim’s need for protecting him but he
had no choice and it was the right thing since he was more than capable of
protecting himself while other people weren’t. So he was a bit relieved to see
the two men being vanished behind the closing doors of the elevator where he
escorted them so to leave the building the way they entered: from the back
entrance. They were mad at him, Harvey’s last words were that next time he’ll
come with Bruce’s arrest warrant and Gordon stating that he’ll make the arrest
himself,  but for the time being he wasn’t worried about that. So many things
twirling like haunting ghosts his mind…
***** Chapter 19 *****
Lucius Fox was perusing the latest data from Tony Stark’s trials on the new arc
reactor technology which would enable artificial body members have normal
communication with the brain and brains defected in controlling the body regain
their normal functionality. The young scientist had sent him an entire data
base and now the information was flooding his wide flat screen, his fingers
rubbing his jaw.
Tony Stark was a genius. The progress of the project was fast and impressive;
the young man was engrossed in the project although other responsibilities
claimed his attention. It was obvious that he was more than thrilled to work
for realizing his friend’s dream.
Lucius pressed his lips, remembering the two kids the day Bruce came down here
to introduce him his new friend and the other times they would come together to
see him and his workshop: it was an odd duet but very cute, the small kid and
the pre-teen, the sweet Bruce and the cunning Tony…
Tony would be happy to receive the development of his part of the project; the
artificial body members were almost identical to the real thing and their
functionality as close to the normal as possible.
Sending the email to Tony Stark from the secure account, he smiled; this
account was made of top security after a hacker had breached it and then
pointed to him the flaws of his firewall.
Ding…
A very discreet sound alerted him to a new message in his secret account, the
one only his closest people had; now only his nephew and brother. Well, once,
Thomas Wayne knew also that email address… He still kept their discussions
although twelve years had passed. Twelve years of no Thomas Wayne to share with
him his dreams about health projects, no Martha Wayne’s sweet smiles and no
little Bruce watching him with awe handling the impressive equipment of his
workshop his tiny legs dangling from the work bench unable to reach the floor.
Whenever he opened that account to see his emails, those past messages brought
back memories…
He frowned. He didn’t know that provider and he was sure that nobody else did.
His finger stayed limbo over the left button of his mouse, for a moment
indecisive whether to open it or delete it for the fear of electronic attacks.
His antivirus protection reassured him that it was clear yet someone who could
discover his personal secret account and create a nonexistent provider would be
more than able to fool his antivirus system.
The email was themed: “Christmas Carol: A Ghost Story.”
So fuss to recite to him Charles Dickens? His curiosity won – what the heck! He
pressed the link and his antivirus didn’t flood him with alerts of attacks.
“Usually there are three Ghosts that haunt but you’ll be haunted only by one;
at your storehouse, Friday, working hours for Ghosts.”
                                                               The Little Ghost
The Little Ghost…
He had a scheduled meeting with Thomas in his office, exactly at the heart of
the Wayne Tower and his secretary led him to the office without knocking.
He didn’t have the chance to see that image many times but whenever he did it
was always adorable. Thomas had his six years old son on his lap, the boy
pestering his dad who was divided between doing his important jobs or the even
more important duty of indulging little Bruce’s requests.
“Christmas is over and daddy has work to do, Bruce; I can’t tell you Scrooge’s
story again…’’
But the boy wrapped his small hands around his father’s neck and nested his
small head on his shoulder and Lucius knew that Thomas was busted. His friend
and employer looked at him desperate and Lucius smiled. Bruce wasn’t a spoiled
kid but sometimes he craved for love.
“Martha did that: brought the kid saying that she had work at the shelter , as
if I’m not working! And now the boy wants me to tell him the Christmas Carol…”
he glanced at his brown leather bracelet Jaeger-LeCoultre Reverso wristwatch
exasperated.
“The Tower’s nursery?’’ Lucius had asked amused and little Bruce cast him a
menacing glare.
Thomas shook his head.
“With Bruce? He was there but he sneaked out and my Little Ghost haunted the
Tower and came here.”
Lucius barely hold his laugh.
“Don’t tell me he can reach the 48th button in the lift?”
Thomas ruffled the boy’s shining locks disapprovingly and proudly at the same
time.
“Oh, Lucius! You don’t know my Little Ghost…’’ he kissed the boy’s rosy cheek.
Lucius smiled; indeed, Bruce was like a cute ghost when he wandered the Tower.
“It’s his kingdom, after all! So, I guess our meeting is called off?”
Thomas’ eyes were apologizing.
“I’m sorry, Lucius; if you have something urgent, I’d send Bruce to the
nursery…”
The small boy’s eyes narrowed.
“Not with the babies, daddy!”
Lucius shook his head.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Wayne: nothing is more urgent than your Little Ghost. I’ll
come tomorrow…”
Thomas shrugged apologizing silently with a gesture of helplessness and Lucius
nodded, smiling at the boy’s grateful eyes.
“Now, I hope Alfred comes soon because I have a scheduled surgery at the
hospital” he said to his son as Lucius opened the door.
The last thing he heard before the door silenced every sound was the Little
Ghost promising to stay at the nursery if Alfred didn’t come till that time.
From that day Lucius kept teasing the kid calling him Little Ghost…
He looked again the signature; Little Ghost…
“It was about time…”
His storehouse was packed with things: tools, machines, old inventions,
clothes. It was really under the ground without any windows and was the perfect
place for a ghost that didn’t want to be seen…
He didn’t turn any light on; he had only a small flashlight which was also off.
It was past midnight: the time of the ghosts, unless the Little Ghost was
thwarted…
Impatience made him tense sensing a new presence in the room: how he entered?
Really, a ghost.
“Is it safe to open the lights?” he shuddered but his voice remained cool.
“Yes” it was a young man’s voice yet it was very familiar.
He turned on the lights and his eyes took in his guest: a youth around 20 years
old, around 6’, well built, very beautiful with the eyes he knew so well
shining determined and a bit touched. The similarity with Thomas was clear yet
Martha’s beauty made the boy really gorgeous; of course it was obvious from his
childhood that he would grow to be a handsome adult. His height was a bit
shorter than he’d have expected from his parents’ posture but he was sure that
the boy had survived through hell and his normal development was hindered.
“It was about time, Mr. Wayne…’’ he said, his eyes a little wet and approached
the youth.
“So you knew, Mr. Fox?’’
Looking the young man’s eyes from up close he could see the child he knew but
also the cruelty he suffered and the pain. And there was something else; power,
confidence and anger.
“You didn’t call me that, then…” he smiled.
Bruce nodded.
“Many things have happened from then; things have changed… I've changed…”
He could hear more than what Bruce was saying.
“I’m still Lucius, Mr. Wayne.’’
He smiled shyly and shook his head in denial.
“But I’m not ‘Mr. Wayne’…”
“You are, you were and you’ll always be.”
He bit his lip.
“Thank you. You knew I was alive?’’ he lifted an eyebrow.
He smiled and shrugged.
“I suspected it when Alfred came and almost begged me to stop the inquiry on
Falcone’s acquisition of the company: he was cool as always but…” he pressed
his lips and shook his head “his eyes were desperate. I accepted Falcone’s
presidency because Alfred being so upset implied something really crucial and I
waited… But he never told me what I wanted to hear and I waited because I knew
that he had many reasons to keep his silence.” He sighed. “Many years past, Mr.
Wayne, and I admit that my faith quivered a bit but there was some hope. And
then some months ago” he smiled “I saw Alfred hitchhiking after midnight
heading for the Narrows and I thought” he frowned “if this isn’t a proof, then
there’s none – I hoped that you would have made it and left the city, but after
a few days I saw Alfred again from a distance and I knew that things went awry.
I was afraid, Mr. Wayne… But thank Goodness, I received your message.” His eyes
became a bit accusing. “I was expecting that Alfred would speak to me earlier…”
The youth’s eyes flashed with a hint of impatience yet he quickly regained his
composure.
“He couldn’t, Lucius: they threatened him that they’d kill me if he dared to
speak to anyone or didn’t persuade you to drop your objections. Alfred suffered
too much all these years knowing and being unable to speak…”
He nodded.
“Excuse me, Mr. Wayne but there are too many questions…”
Bruce closed his eyes.
“I don’t have much time, Lucius.”
Of course he knew that but still…
“OK, go ahead” the boy said sighing.
“I won’t ask many things – for the time being… How Falcone acquired your
father’s fortune? The paperwork was legitimate.”
The boy pressed his lips: it was obvious that he didn’t want to remember, even
more to recount what happened.
“He gave everything he had to Falcone to save me…”
It dawned immediately.
“The bastard had kidnapped you!”
Bruce nodded.
“That day leaving the schoolyard I saw the Wayne Enterprises car waiting for me
but the driver was unfamiliar. He explained to me that Alfred was with my
mother and my father was in surgery and that he was sent to pick me up.”
Lucius pressed his lips.
“And you believed him…” Bruce was only 8 years old then.
“No, I didn’t want to follow him; I tried to find my father, my mother or
Leslie on the phone to ask but I couldn’t – then, the man suggested to call Mr.
Earl who had sent him…” Lucius  frowned. “Earl told me that he had sent the man
and that he was working for Wayne Enterprises for two years.”
“No…” Lucius whispered. “So, Earl was working with Falcone from the beginning.”
The boy nodded.
“My father had no choice but to give his entire fortune in hopes that they’d
release me and let us leave Gotham. They agreed to meet at the alley behind the
Opera House” his voice was flat, emotionless, as if those things considered
someone else. “Earl checked the paperwork and when he affirmed that everything
was OK, Falcone ordered Chill to kill me.” Lucius opened his mouth to ask but
Bruce caught him. “My mother pushed me behind her and took the bullet that was
meant for me; my father rushed to her and they shot him too…” now Bruce’s voice
was strained and he was rubbing his temple. “My father was covering me with his
body and yelled to me to run… I… I did, though I didn’t want, but they shot me
and I ran…”
He wanted to hug the boy, Bruce’s distraught evident though he tried to keep
his cool.
“To the sewers…” Lucius helped him with his voice lowered. “But witnesses
testified that they caught you and tossed you in the waters.”
Bruce looked him in the eyes and Lucius detected his wish to end as soon as
possible.
“They did – Chill did – and he tossed me in the waters but only to torture me
and the witnesses scattered and didn’t see him ready to cut me with his blade.
Neither Falcone ordering him to stop because he wanted me alive…”
Now his voice was hoarse and Lucius was thankful for the small fridge he had
there. He took a bottle of water and gave it to the young man who gulped it
grateful.
“Thank you, Lucius” he said handing it back.
The boy had kept his manners despite all these years of Falcone’s ‘training’.
He put the bottle on a half derelict table. He had said that he wouldn’t ask
much yet he couldn’t stop himself.
“Mr. Wayne, excuse me but I must ask…”
Bruce raised his tired eyes in his face and Lucius saw how aged the boy felt,
despite his fresh and younger than his age appearance.
“Why he kept me alive?” now his voice was again flat, dry. “Because he wanted
to punish me for being a Wayne, to make me curse my name, to keep his joy for
his victory alive every time he looked at my wreckage.”
And there was the gravest reason, the one hidden behind Bruce’s words, the one
which the boy didn’t want to articulate but his form fitting jeans and T-shirt
that highlighted his body’s beauty yelled.
“I don’t choose my clothes…” the youth told him pointedly catching his stare.
Lucius Fox you’re a moron, he berated himself, feeling the shame in the boy’s
words and at the same time his small complain.
“Of course, Mr. Wayne, forgive an old fool…” he bowed slightly his head and
Bruce smiled. “And you use the tunnels to roam the city and meet Alfred and now
me” he saw the youth’s eyes widen shocked and he winked. “You couldn’t just
walk out of your jail, could you? And, I know about the tunnels…” he nodded.
“There’s a whole world underneath. I was very young – that means years before
your parents even had the notion of you – and curious and with a passion for
spelunking. I explored the caves but then came the work and I forgot that
madness…”
“Do you think that others know about the underground caves?’’
“Maybe some geologists and some really old people but nobody that would pose a
threat to your secret. Now, Mr. Wayne, I know that all these years you wanted
to see me again, but what’s the plan?”
Bruce half smiled amused.
“You’re the only person they don’t watch, Lucius; they never thought you too
close to Waynes.”
Lucius smiled broadly.
“Although this insults me I have a hunch that this is too handy for you…”
“It is. Alfred told me that my mother had a vault in a bank in Switzerland with
her entire Kane fortune – the fortune Falcone didn’t know that existed. Alfred
can’t go there because they watch his every move and such a trip would make
things…”
“Awful for you… So” he nodded “you want me to go to Switzerland and transfer
the money to a more easily accessed account.”
“Exactly’’ the young man folded his arms in his rather sculpted chest and
nodded, his eyes glistening with determination.
“You trust me so much?”
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been here…”
He felt a wave of warmth and honor.
“This is an honor, Mr. Wayne but why not just inform Mr. Stark? He returned and
is fully recovered from his adventure and he still has deals with the
Enterprises so I’d…” the young man was shaking his head in dismissal whatever
he brought up as argument. “He’ll be very happy to hear that you’re alive and
to help you…” he paused finally, realizing that Bruce was adamant.
“Tony mustn’t learn anything…”
“But he can take you from Falcone and help us expose him…” but the boy was
still negating with his head.
“This is what I don’t want” Lucius’ eyes widened – he was considered a very
intelligent man yet now he couldn’t understand anything. “Tony learning that
I’m alive will make him rush to… to save me, but that will be a disaster: many
people will die.”
Lucius smiled reassuringly: a child raised by an abuser is seeing him almighty.
“Mr. Wayne, Falcone may be powerful in Gotham, but Mr. Stark can easily smash
him having proofs that he murdered your parents.”
Bruce inhaled deeply and stared at Lucius.
“Falcone isn’t who I fear most.”
“Then?”
“Falcone isn’t my only…” he bent his fingers in a loose fist seeming unsure of
which was the proper term “…master.’’
That word was like a whip; the image of little Bruce on Thomas’ lap, his small
head resting confidently on his father’s shoulder in stark contrast with that
cute child being enslaved to two masters was heartbreaking. But it was the
truth.
“There’s another man more powerful and dangerous that if I dare to defy him,
he’d kill everyone I love.”
“Who is this man?”
“Ra’s Al Ghul.”
He didn’t know anything about him but he’ll learn. However now he must not
waste more time.
“What are you planning to do with the money?”
“The only way I can free myself and Gotham is by defeating those men –
simultaneously. And that can be achieved only if they think me their slave and
someone else crack their rule from inside.”
Lucius raised his eyebrows inquiring silently.
“We need someone who’ll defend the people of Gotham from Falcone’s thugs, will
help people get away and strike his ‘businesses’” the youth answered.
“You want me to hire someone?”
Bruce  looked him with eyes flamed with decisiveness.
“No, I want you to equip him. I need you to give him an impenetrable suit to
hide his identity and gadgets.”
“Guns?”
Bruce shook his head in dismissal.
“No guns.”
Lucius was dumbfounded.
“How is he going to fight criminals without weapons?”
“He is trained.”
“Who is he, Mr. Wayne?”
Bruce’s eyes became dark.
“Me.”
Poor child, Falcone managed to shatter his brilliant mind… His eyes must have
been very shocked because Bruce smiled.
“I’m trained, Lucius. By Ra’s Al Ghul.”
OK, I’ll swallow that, too, even if I don’t know if this man really exists.
However Bruce took in his hesitation as fear.
“Lucius, if you don’t want to participate in that, I’ll understand; I know how
risky it is… So…”
Lucius shook his head.
“Mr. Wayne, I have nothing to lose: my wife died from a stroke two years ago.”
“I’m sorry, Lucius…”
He smiled benevolently to him.
“My half brother has a different surname and he and his son have moved to
Boston. As for myself, I’ll do my best to help your daredevil plan.”
Bruce smiled relieved and put his hand in his jeans’ pocket to take out a key
and Lucius tensed because it was a gold key with the logo of Credit Suisse on
its square shaped head and with number 139 to its rectangular bit. The youth
offered it to him.
“The key to Martha Kane’s vault at Credit Suisse; Alfred kept it safe all these
years…” his eyes had real affection, as if that key represented his mother.
Lucius took it gently.
“How they didn’t find it, when Alfred gave it to you?”
“I had it secured in a hideout down… But, Lucius, the vault needs also the
fingerprint of my right thumb to open and I wonder if you have a way to take
it… without chopping my finger” he laughed and his eyes shone in a puppy way.
Lucius began searching in the mess of the storage.
“Oh! I don’t think that we’ll need such dramatic measures, Mr. Wayne…” he rose
with a bar of soap in his hand and returned to Bruce. “Give me your right
thumb…” the young man complied and Lucius pressed his finger in the soap “I saw
it in a detective series…” he winked and the boy laughed and it was as if they
travelled back in time to his workshop at the Wayne Tower.
“It’s OK?” Bruce searched his eyes and Lucius nodded.
“Leave the rest to me, Mr. Wayne. How am I to communicate with you when I come
back?”
“But through email of course – you have my address” he turned to leave; his
time there had stretched too much.
“Mr. Wayne…”
He halted and turned to stare at him.
“May I hug you?” he understood that it was too much for an employee to ask to
hug his boss’ son yet he felt the urge; he had shared this boy’s short
childhood.
Bruce seemed a bit confused but finally he nodded and Lucius took him in a
tight embrace, sensing the boy’s tension gradually leaving his body: perhaps,
he remembered the times he went down at Lucius’ workshop and he was taking him
in his arms.
He decided that he had to release the young man before his stay there betrayed
his absence to his… masters. He brushed the boy’s upper arms.
“Mr. Wayne, how you breached my firewall to find my secret email account?”
The young man smiled wickedly.
“Not easily, Lucius, I’ll give you that. I’ll tell you, when we have more time
how to secure your secrets.”
Lucius lifted an amused eyebrow.
“Falcone enrolled you to a computer school?”
He smiled bitterly and shrugged.
“A friend had a laptop; I use also her old bike underground to go wherever I
want… I must leave now – good luck, Lucius!”
“To you, too, Mr. Wayne; be careful…”
The screeching sound of the descending private elevator dragged him out of his
time-travelling. He looked at the opening doors and as he expected, he saw
Bruce coming to him, his black briefcase so tightly grasped that his knuckles
were white. Lucius scratched his nose.
“Tough meeting?” he asked teasingly the approaching man and he nodded.
“You’ve no idea…”
“But you got what you wanted?”
Bruce sighed.
“I suppose you could say that… for now” he laid his briefcase on Lucius’
working bench and pierced him with his solemn a bit anxious eyes.
“I’m listening, Mr. Wayne” he prompted somewhat unsettled by his anxiety.
“I was wondering if applying a substance to someone could make the substance’s
results linger even after the application stops.”
Bruce’s voice was steady and determined as always yet Lucius could detect his
hesitation to speak.
“What they were giving you, Mr. Wayne?” he asked without any delay: maybe they
didn’t have any time for delays.
He shrugged.
“I hoped that perhaps analyzing my organism would say us that” his eyes despite
their seriousness had also a slight mischievous and puppy tone which reminded
him so much of the kid that ran around him.
“Hmm…” he nodded in thought. “I suppose we can do that…” he brought his finger
on his lips. “But why you don’t ask Dr. Thompkins’ expertise? She is a doctor,
so she has more knowledge on substances…”
Bruce was shaking his head in negation, ruffling his hair.
“If I go now to her, you know that she’ll strap me till I’m submitted to every
examination she wants to run on me and…” Lucius was smirking amused “with that
man on the loose, I can’t be in a clinic full of people, endangering them. And
you have done that before with Ra’s’ poison…”
Lucius sobered.
“Al Ghul was administering the substance?” he frowned.
Bruce nodded and Lucius pressed his lips.
“Does anyone else know about this?”
“No and I’ll appreciate it if…”
Lucius tilted his head and stared at him disapprovingly.
“You didn’t have to mention that. How was this substance administered?”
Bruce was reluctant yet he steadied his gaze.
“It was like oil and they smeared it to my body; it was entirely absorbed
almost instantly.”
Lucius cupped his jaw thoughtful.
“How often?”
“Daily.”
“For how long?”
Bruce calculated.
“Almost ten years” Lucius eyes jolted. “You think that its effects have become
permanent?”
Lucius freed his jaw.
“I can’t say that before I run some tests… You have some symptoms?”
Bruce seemed unwilling to say, his stare on his briefcase and then at Lucius’
face.
“I prefer to let you do the tests unbiased” Lucius smiled and detected that his
employer had more things to say.
Bruce gave the password to the safety of the briefcase and opened it; along
with his lap top he had a case similar with those used by the forensics and a
small box made of metal looking very much like lead. Lucius raised an eyebrow
and the young man registered it.
“Another reason I didn’t go to Leslie for the substance is that I’d like you to
check the substance’s interaction with this…” he opened the box and Lucius saw
a green glowing rock – definitely kryptonite – veined with black lines of
another mineral.
“A new variety of kryptonite?”
Bruce nodded and left the case on the table.
“And then with this…” he pulled his hand hastily.
Lucius took the case and perused the content; flesh, human-like but considering
the piece of kryptonite which accompanied it, probably non-human…
Bruce was staring at him expectantly like a kid caught in mischief waiting his
punishment. Lucius was certain that his employer waited stoic his questions.
“I’ll start immediately, Mr. Wayne. But first I’ll take some samples” he rose
and opened his drawer. “It may be painful.”
“Go ahead…”
“Take off your jacket, roll up your sleeve and sit down” he said and Bruce saw
– not without a slight cringe - a menacing looking instrument in sterilized
pack which Lucius, after wearing examination gloves and a mask, tore to free
the too sharp, too thick needle.
The kind man registered the paleness on Bruce’s face and understood that the
considerable pain of taking the samples wasn’t the reason; he could only
imagine the youth’s horrible experiences with Falcone’s ‘doctor’ or these
people that administered him the mysterious substance.
“I’m back.”
It was the three words he had sent to Bruce’s email and waited every night
after midnight in the storehouse.
He didn’t come the same night neither the next; it was expected: the boy
couldn’t leave his jail whenever he wanted to. And he waited patiently, every
night.
But three days had passed and the young man didn’t come and he began to be
afraid that either they discovered his escapees and tightened their guard – he
didn’t want even think what punishments they might have inflicted on him – or
simply killed him. Or he just couldn’t find the most appropriate opportunity to
come: his reasonable part kept reminding him.
At last, he suddenly sensed in the room the presence he waited for; after he
researched Ra’s Al Ghul he understood that Bruce’s training allowed him to be
more silent than a cat. He opened the light and he felt his spine frozen.
Bruce’s eyes were strong and unyielding as always but his face was battered; a
big mauve-black bruise shadowing his right cheek, another one on the corner of
his lips and some dried blood was accumulated in his left nostril. But the
nastiest was a thick stitched scar on his left temple that was reaching his
hair and was lost among the rich locks. He was a bit pale yet he didn’t look
weak – surely, he was hiding any pain he might be feeling.
“Falcone was whacked…” he said nonchalant taking in Lucius’ appalled stare. “I
had worse” he shook his head “and when I didn’t have the training to bear it.”
He didn’t want to let the dark part of his imagination figure what else a
‘whacked’ Falcone might have done to his captive.
“Alfred saw that?’’ he asked calmly.
“No… I don’t want him to see me like this and the same goes for you, too, but I
couldn’t delay it more.”
Bruce had become a very strong young man, he realized and then berated himself:
of course he is strong; he managed to survive through all these…
“That” he gestured to the wound on his temple “looks serious enough.”
“It’s stitched” the boy snapped and Lucius sensed his uneasiness on having
someone caring for him.
“I see that, but you might have a concussion.”
Bruce tilted his head impatiently but didn’t express his annoyance.
“I don’t; as Falcone’s doctor says my skull got really thick all these years…”
Lucius lifted an eyebrow. What did he expect? Bruce was a child when Falcone
captured him and given the heavy abuse, a doctor was necessary to keep him
alive. However he didn’t want to consider the quality of this doctor’s services
to the scared child.
“I’d like a second opinion, if you don’t mind…” he smiled.
Bruce smiled, too.
“He is my personal doctor, sir!” he teased. “He treats me since I was a kid.”
Lucius frowned.
“So he knew that you’re Bruce Wayne.”
“Of course. He removed the bullets from my arm that night…” his eyes were
shadowed. “How was your trip?” he hurried to change the subject.
His thoughts were delved into what kind of a doctor wouldn’t care about the
abuse of a child. However, he followed Bruce’s lead.
“Very nice, Mr. Wayne, and everything went smoothly at the bank.”
“How you handled the fingerprint thing?” Bruce’s eyes were shining wickedly.
He smiled broadly.
“Don’t tell me that you consider using my tricks for shady business, young
man…”
The boy shrugged and smirked.
“Maybe I’ll need to.’’
He shook his head in the negative.
“No, Mr. Wayne, you won’t need to; believe me with what that vault contained
you’ll be able to live opulent enough.”
The youth’s face sobered.
“To take back my father’s company?”
Lucius’ smile vanished.
“I’m afraid that though your mother’s fortune is pretty big, it’s not enough to
buy back Wayne Enterprises.”
Instead of being depressed by that, Bruce half smiled wickedly. His eyes were
flamed.
“When the time comes to buy back the company, the money will be more than
enough!” his voice was so confident that Lucius felt thrilled.
He pointed with his index finger at Bruce.
“I like men with a plan!” laughed. “Tell me your thoughts, Mr. Wayne” he
gestured to a wooden, short stool.
Bruce sat and Lucius did the same.
“We can’t overthrow Falcone depending on Gotham’s ‘legal’ system.”
He nodded.
“Everything is bought.”
“Exactly, so we need to bring FBI in Gotham; they suspect him but they don’t
have the evidence to interfere with Gotham’s issues.”
“But you do…”
“I can gather them: Falcone is so powerful that don’t hesitate to violate
federal laws; who’s gonna find evidence and how FBI will come to Gotham, when
the local authorities will hinder and sabotage their efforts giving time to
Falcone for covering his tracks? So evidence isn’t a problem but we need more
than the start of an investigation for felonies, we need FBI’s instant take
over and Falcone’s arrest or else he’ll have the time to put his defenses on
and slip…”
“Taking you with him…”
He nodded.
“And Al Ghul will know immediately that I betrayed him…” he inhaled and Lucius
detected fear.
“At first, I thought that he beat you…” he commented. “I learnt about him. He
is a very dangerous man.”
“He is, but he never leaves marks…” Lucius swallowed hard, his guts twisted at
the repercussions of these indifferently said words. “So, I was saying that we
need to eradicate both enemies simultaneously, because if the one faces the
attack alone, the other would raise up his defenses and counterattack.”
“Two enemies at once… This needs to be organized in detail and someone to
orchestrate from the field.”
“We’ll make him” the boy’s eyes darkened and his voice hardened. “And will need
a felony which will give jurisdiction to FBI to enter Gotham and make an
instant arrest…”
He crossed his arms.
“Drugs, bank robbery, kidnap…”
“I think that the last two must be crossed out from our list and drugs are
handled by his ‘lieutenants’. We’ll find it, Lucius” he pressed his lips in a
tight line and set his jaw determinedly. “For the time being, we must prepare
the one that’ll challenge Falcone’s rule.”
He wanted to dissuade the last Wayne from engage himself to such a danger.
“Mr. Wayne, I don’t think that this is possible; Falcone has men guarding you,
you’re constantly under supervision and there’s Al Ghul.”
The young man was adamant.
“I’m not constantly under surveillance and I can slip easily Falcone’s thugs,
as for the League, I need a uniform that will hide my identity.”
“And protect you from gunshots and knives…”
“And providing a chilling atmosphere to establish fear in criminals…”
Those unique colored eyes were in ecstasy.
“What are you thinking?”
The boy smiled.
“A creature of the night – I live only during the night -, something that will
create connections with scary myths: a bat, Lucius.” He saw Lucius’ frown. “In
my cage live many bats… they were my sole company for years. They showed me the
rabbit hole to the underground caves – they’re my friends… Don’t look at me
like that, Lucius. I’m not crazy; I didn’t have a human being to really talk to
and bats were actually nice…”
“A bat-man, then?”
He nodded.
“I want to be able to fly, Lucius; can you give me that?” his voice was deep in
avidity. “And the effects to make them believe that I’m a demon…”
Lucius couldn’t help himself from sharing the youth’s enthusiasm though he knew
that the deed was too risky.
“I’m sure I can do something for that… But it’ll take time to organize it
properly if we don’t want to raise suspicions and considering your difficulties
in your… schedule. Oh! I’d give anything to see those smart asses facing our
bat-demon…”
However his doubt about the boy’s abilities bit him and Bruce figured out
seeing his thrill fading away.
“Lucius, I was trained for years by Ra’s Al Ghul himself.”
“Forgive me, Mr. Wayne, but sometimes is hard to stop seeing you as the Little
Prince… I guess we’ll make the caves our operation center?”
“There’s a cave underneath Leslie’s clinic…”
Lucius nodded.
“Dr. Thompkins knows that you’re alive?”
“I guess she’ll figure soon…” he stood and Lucius understood that it was time
to return to his abusers; really, the boy was living only during the night and
his real world was the caves and with his creation the sky, exactly as his bat
friends, so he was indeed a bat-man.
“Mr. Wayne, wait!” he barely caught him before vanishing with his mysterious
way.
He remembered what he had in his jacket’s pocket, he pulled it out and the
boy’s eyes were curious at what the black velvety fabric hid.
“I have a detailed list with the contents of your mother’s vault” he showed a
A4 page but Bruce dismissed it with a wave of his hand; the boy trusted him
with his life so his money wasn’t an issue. He put the paper back in his pocket
and looked at the object that caught Bruce’s attention. “Also that was in the
vault – I thought you would want to see it…” he unfolded the fabric and a
triangle shaped gem smiled to him with its shine; it looked like a wing, one
half of a pair of wings… “The legendary Black Butterfly; the lost half.”
The boy’s eyes glistened, a broad smile slowly shaping in his beaten face and
Lucius knew that wheels began stirring frantically.
Bruce was studying the same League files as yesterday when Lucius called him
that he had the results just when he was ready to send the car to the Manor – a
great convenience for cover – and disguise as Freddy. The brilliant man had the
results in just a couple of hours; it seems that he had sensed his urgency.
And his agony? He had called Alfred to ask how Clark was doing and he reassured
him that their guest was recovering rapidly… and that he asked many times if
there was a chance Bruce would return for lunch… No way! He was recovering fine
because he was at a safe distance and furthermore he had to do field work at
Narrows in the hopes of learning anything about this Joker.
The elevator was reaching Lucius’ laboratory and he would soon know. Not that
he didn’t suspect… Actually, he was sure – how he was so idiot to not consider
that? He shook his head in disapproval and the artificial female voice informed
him that he reached Lucius Fox’s office.
The older man was sat in front of his PC screen, perusing with a frown the
flood of data, his fingers clutching unconsciously the transparent rim of his
narrow rectangular glasses. His expression was solemn – not a positive sign –
but as soon as he heard Bruce approach, turned to him with a restrained yet
cordial smile. He knew the impression he created stepping out of an elevator
with a pack of books in his lap – like a student going to his class – yet he
had read the books Lucius gave him and he had to return them.
“Maybe I should quiz you?” he raised a teasing eyebrow.
Bruce put the books on a table near the workbench.
“No need; I’m tested daily… Is it easy to…?”
“Give you more books? The easiest!” he saw the inquiry in Bruce’s eyes “The
results are ready, Mr. Wayne.”
“Thank you, Lucius, you’re incredible; I didn’t expect them so soon.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Wayne.” After a stampede of clicks with his mouse a window
covered the entire screen with diagrams and figures. “What you were suspecting
is solid: your body cells have traces of something that alters their normal
behavior.”
“Normal behavior?”
Lucius shrugged.
“Nothing pathological for you yet I don’t think that is normal for human cells
doing that…” he pressed a button and a moving diagram showed two lines: a blue
and a green. “That’s what happens when the kryptonite approaches your cells –
that is, your body” he pushed a button and both lines blew to the diagrams
peak.
Lucius pointed to the diagram under Bruce’s gloomy stare.
“When I’m near a piece of kryptonite, its radiation increases?” he asked
shocked.
Lucius nodded.
“Exactly. Kryptonite’s power is multiplied.”
Bruce grimaced.
“You say that I’m a kryptonite ‘amplifier’?” disbelief was more than evident.
Lucius looked him with an eyebrow curved.
“Don’t tell me that you didn’t think it yourself?” Bruce mumbled something.
“And when there’s no kryptonite? Clark is safe then?”
Fox pressed his lips and pushed another button of the keyboard sending a new
window to open on the screen. Bruce was no expert but this looked like the
image of two cells under the microscope, the one signalized with blue and the
other which was a bit different red.
“With the blue dye is your cell and with the red your friend’s” he accompanied
his explanation, moving the censor accordingly but it was Lucius calling Clark
‘his friend’ that made Bruce flinch; how can he consider himself a friend of
Clark’s? “Look what happens to the red cell when is close to the blue…”
“…the closer he gets to you, the closer his death will be.”
“Lucius, I’m not a scientist…’’ he exclaimed a bit tired.
Fox detached his gaze from the cell’s image and turned to Bruce.
“But I’m sure you understand; the red cell weakens, not too obviously but the
longer the ‘exposure’ the more the weakening effect.’’
The younger man’s eyes widened. That’s why Ra’s was able to repel so easily
Superman at the Manor – not that Ra’s’ abilities weren’t considerable. And he
had kissed Clark yesterday to sooth him, in reality poisoning the man, and to
make things worse, Clark tasted him with his tongue…
“Permanently?”
“I can’t say that without more observation but if the exposure is prolonged…”
“But I had almost two weeks to see him and last night…”
“He came to you and he was shot with that Kryptonite, right? What was that made
you suspect, Mr. Wayne?”
“He wasn’t able to hear the approaching bullet while I was. If he weakens in my
presence, why he didn’t recover while I was away from him?”
“I’m afraid that the effect has an accumulative pattern.”
“What’s this?”
“Being away from him for some time doesn’t increase his weakness but doesn’t
eliminate it either. So the next time he comes near you the new exposure adds
itself to the lingering one.”
Bruce nodded with his eyes piercing the red cell.
“So I’m toxic to Kryptonians?” he asked flatly.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Then all I have to do to not aggravate the existing damage is stay away from
him forever?”
Fox sighed.
“I wish it was so simple…” he tapped some buttons and the blue cell was removed
from the frame.
Bruce’s eyes widened, seeing the red – Kryptonian – cell moving restlessly
towards the way the blue cell went.
Fox removed his glasses and left them on the bench, rubbing his forehead.
“The Kryptonian cells manifest addicted behavior to your cells; even if you
stay away from Mr. Kent, he’ll crave to be near you again…”
“To his death…”
“Like a moth to flame.”
Bruce shook his head and massaged his throbbing temple. That explains why Clark
was searching for his vitals, or why he was stalking him, though he kissed
Lois: he loves Lois but the addiction drags him here.
“You’ll tell him, Mr. Wayne?” Lucius’ eyes were full of concern and
understanding.
He sat on the stool opposite Lucius.
“If I tell him, even from a safe distance, he’ll try to meet me to…” he waved
his hands to the air exasperated “I don’t know what – but it’s Clark. Can’t we
remove the remains of this substance from me?”
Fox’s face was apologizing.
“I wish it was possible but given that some years have already passed from the
last time you were subjected to that substance, I can say with certainty that
the physical application of the substance isn’t necessary anymore.”
“Meaning?”
“It has become part of your cells’ memory: your cells produce the substance on
their own; thus the substance is normal for your system.’’
Bruce pierced Fox with his narrowed eyes.
“You mean that I’m a mutant?! That Al Ghul…”
“He caused a kind of mutation to your cells, yes” Lucius’ voice was hoarse; he
could understand how distraught the young man was: that man not only abused him
horribly but also altered his body.
“That’s…” the young man stood abruptly with his fists clenched.
“Preposterous… Evil…” Lucius stood as well.
Nightmarish was Bruce’s thought. Yet he didn’t want to give up – there must be
some solution; Lucius was a genius and Tony… No, he couldn’t tell Tony… But
he’ll feel estranged if he kept this from him. Oh! How much he wanted to
disappear… Yet he couldn’t just flee; people were in danger because of him.
“Perhaps the weakness manifests only with that specific Kryptonite? The rock
has some black veins that the usual mineral doesn’t have.”
“It is possible that the effect is greater with that variety of Kryptonite –
maybe that oil they applied to you had something to do with the black mineral
lining the kryptonite - but in the Manor with Al Ghul it was a common piece of
Kryptonite.”
Nice…
“Maybe you and Tony could find a… something… like an antidote to clear my
cells… to reprogram them so to not produce the substance?”
Lucius hated to smash the youth’s hopes.
“It could take decades with dubious results.”
In the meantime, Clark would constantly try to approach him to be near him and
every time he’ll do that – very possible since he was a reporter and his job
will inescapably make their paths cross – he’ll be even more vulnerable to
Kryptonite.
“How can this – whatever it is – affect him even through my suit?”
“Your suit has pores that absorb your sweat and even the air you exhale in his
presence is enough to cause an effect.”
That was the reason Superman had kissed him that night in Bruce Wayne’s Haven,
although he didn’t know his identity: he sensed the same radiation of ‘his
Star’.
Bruce’s eyes flared suddenly.
“Lucius?” his voice was calm but hope was radiating.
“Yes, Mr. Wayne.”
“Is it possible to make Clark immune to that effect?” he hesitated. “To me?”
“You mean something like a vaccine?”
Bruce bit his lips and nodded.
“I’m the virus. So, you have my cells and his, you could create something to
protect him?” his eyes were eager to hear a positive answer and Lucius’ slowly
formed smile made him smile, too.
“That’s a brilliant idea, Mr. Wayne!”
Bruce lowered a bit his head and half smiled cleverly.
“Maybe I have something useful…”
“Please, do tell me.”
Bruce raised slowly his head and pierced Lucius with his intense stare.
“Have you heard of The Water of Immortality?”
Lucius frowned.
“The ancient Greek myth?”
Bruce shook his head negatively.
“It’s not a myth: Al Ghul had acquired some scrolls from those believed to be
lost during the fire of Alexandria’s Library. One of them was Aristotle’s
‘recipe’ for the Immortality water – well, not immortality but a very powerful
medicine that enabled Al Ghul to heal severe wounds and maintain the legend of
his immortality. I managed to decipher Al Ghul’s files and I have the
ingredients and the procedure.”
Lucius was skeptical; he was a scientist and myths and legends weren’t valid
for him. However, he had an open mind and didn’t want to block possibilities.
“I’ll have to test it, Mr. Wayne and if it is as you say, we’ll not only
immunize your friend but also make a magnificent jolt in the medicine field.”
***** Chapter 20 *****
Clark was half stretched on one of the sunbeds at Wayne Manor’s backyard,
sucking sun like a man that have been bereft of water for days. He was lucky
that the gloomy Gotham had such a sunny day that reminded more of Metropolis.
In front of him, the blue water of the beautiful but rather small for Bruce’s
social status pool was catching his eyes with the cheerful way it played with
the sun rays.
He closed his eyes in pleasure; it smelled spring even here and he could hear –
of course he could; his hearing was the first to be fully restored – some birds
twitting not only from the thick forests that covered Palisades but also from
the Manor’s grounds.
He wished Bruce had stayed with him. He smiled; with Bruce at his side he would
have been healed in no time… But his Star was very loyal to his city and its
people, so he left to face the chaos that the madman created. In his name; he
hated that man even for speaking his Star’s name. He cringed at the remembrance
of that Joker’s words about Bruce and especially his eyes when he was referring
to him: mad, obsessed, determined, fearless… exactly as the first time he saw
him when he ran to save Luthor. The man didn’t fear Superman and he had the
feeling that he didn’t fear anyone when he wanted to take what he desired. And
what he desired was what he – Superman – desired, too, which flared in him the
stupid fear that the madman would get there first…
Not that he can bent Bruce but … oh… That dream… the emotions and the
atmosphere of that dream were so strong whenever he replayed it… The feeling
that Bruce was slipping away and he was unable, weak from an invisible
kryptonite to answer his cries for help…
And the way his Star told him off the morning, as if he was afraid of him or
hating him, although the previous night he had done everything to save him. He
tackled him so that the bullet didn’t pierce his heart, he operated him to stop
the poisoning; he took him to his cave, to his room, to his bed; he slept
almost at his side to watch him… And that sensation lingering on his lips… All
these to be told to back off; why? He had said something in his sleep?
Wait, wait, wait… Bruce heard the bullet coming and he didn’t… Why? His hearing
could catch a heartbeat thousands of miles away and couldn’t catch the coming
of a bullet? He smirked; it seems that he was too absorbed in Batman’s view
that his environment was erased. Oh, Bruce! He laughed. You’ll be the death of
me… Well, that’s not funny but if that means that Batman will be saving and
babysitting him, then he could discuss it.
Yet that wasn’t an option since the man said to leave him alone… Was he really
so annoying to Bruce? Maybe his presence alone was too pressing on him in
regards to love; maybe he emanated too much sexual tension, terrorizing him. He
knew that ‘terrorizing’ was a heavy word for Batman but Bruce was the victim of
multiple rapes and it was normal to overreact to even an innuendo and
admittedly his behavior was anything than subtle.
You’re an idiot, Clark! Why are you so forward with him since you know how
sensitive he is? Why have you become such a beast? You’re better than this…
Prove to him that you’re different than those soulless bastards.
He recalled Bruce handling the raging press of Gotham in front of the Wayne
Tower. Beautiful, calmly determined, collected and carefully covering his
fearless self presenting it as the feeble efforts of a victim to be brave. It
wasn’t easy to restrain himself when Bruce was so… He couldn’t even find the
most suitable word.
He sighed; there was no chance he could handle his lust despite the fact he was
the Man of Steel. Oh! He was unforgivable…
However, Bruce cared for him. He had heard him on the phone asking Alfred about
his recovering and he sounded tired, but relieved that he was doing fine. He
felt him tense almost in defense stand when Alfred transferred to him his
question if he’d come for lunch. He wouldn’t come, he didn’t want to be near
him; he was scared – no, Bruce wasn’t scared -, he was appalled by him…
Unlike last night, he was perfectly able to hear Alfred’s light footsteps being
slightly burdened by the light load of a silver tray and beginning their course
to the backyard. So it wasn’t a surprise, when the butler laid gently the tray
on the white marble table beside him.
He smiled warmly to the kind man. At least, someone in this house shouldn’t be
afraid, repulsed by him. The porcelain plate was filled with beef stew, a
second one with carrot salad, accompanied by a crystal glass of orange-carrot
juice, but he already knew what his meal included catching with his smell the
scent from the kitchen.
“Carrot helps the absorption of sun radiation” Alfred commented gently, smiling
kindly.
“My batteries are almost fully charged, thanks to your treatment. But this
delicious meal is much appreciated, Mr. Pennyworth. Thank you.”
“It’s Alfred, sir. And it is a pleasure for me having someone to taste my
cuisine…” he sighed.
Clark took the glass and gulped the juice; his eyebrow rose.
“Bruce doesn’t eat here?”
Alfred chuckled.
“You thought that he didn’t come for lunch because of your presence here?” his
eyes were full with understanding. “To be honest, I’m not sure if this boy eats
at all… Alas! There is always something more important from his food or more
fascinating than my cooking!”
Clark took a bite from the beef and he closed his eyes reminiscently: it was
like being again in his Ma’s kitchen and hardly restrained a moan.
“This is delicious, Alfred!”
Alfred bowed slightly his head.
“Thank you, sir.”
Clark brought his eyes on Alfred’s face.
“You must make Bruce eat that: it’s a poem…”
Alfred snorted.
“As if anyone can make Bruce do anything…” now.
He nodded, rolling his eyes.
“Tell me about it…” he muttered before he could catch himself; he was Superman
after all!
But Alfred chuckled lighthearted and proud: it wasn’t negligible your kid being
so formidable that even Superman couldn’t make him do something. Clark’s
affectionate eyes were glistening reflecting the sun as he registered Bruce’s
butler behind his fork. Alfred’s love for his ‘master’ was so evident that
emanated every time he spoke about the young man – the proud British tolerated
a brute like Falcone to be near Bruce although Clark was sure that it was a
constant torture for him too, knowing what his beloved boy was being through.
He couldn’t not imagine how Bruce would have been if he had been raised with
Alfred’s affectionate guidance.
Alfred noticed his thoughtfulness and coughed discreetly.
“If you don’t need me anything else, I shall return to some chores.”
He didn’t want to lose Alfred too: he was a connection to Bruce.
“Can you stay a little more? To make me some company?”
“Of course, sir.”
Clark patted the sunbed beside his and the British butler hesitated for an
instant and sat though too tense.
“I want to thank you for everything you did for me.”
Alfred lifted an eyebrow.
“What is it that I did for you, sir?”
Clark frowned.
“Bruce told me that I owe my life to your treatment” he bowed slightly his
head. “I’m obliged, Alfred.”
But Alfred sighed.
“He would say that, wouldn’t he?” he said and his eyes were lost at the green
scenery.
Clark didn’t need more to understand. Alfred treated him but Bruce’s instant
interval saved his life; he just wanted to minimize his help's value to stop
Clark’s bigger attachment. He pressed his lips frustrated yet he didn’t say
anything, not wanting to make the kind man feel uncomfortable that unwillingly
betrayed his young master’s lie.
“Can I ask you something…mmm… a bit personal, Alfred?”
Alfred lifted an eyebrow.
“Of course, you can ask yet that doesn’t mean that I’ll answer…” he winked
smirking.
“Fair enough!” Clark answered amused and gulped a forkful of carrot salad. “How
was Bruce when a child?” he saw Alfred’s benevolent face tense. “I mean before
his parents’ murder and his … capture.”
Alfred rose from the chair. Well done, Kent! He thought. You managed to make
Alfred activate his shields too.
“This is the reporter talking?” his eyebrows furrowed and his voice became a
bit cold.
What’s going on with this house, anyway? Everyone misunderstands him.
“No, Alfred” he shook his head in denial. “It’s not journalistic greed: it’s
human concern… well, not human – I know I’m not human…”
Alfred loosened his defensive stance and his face regained that warmth which
Clark had begun to miss.
“You’re more human than many humans I know, sir…” his voice was deep and Clark
sensed the pain from the cruelty the kind man knew first hand that existed in
the world. “Please, forgive my agitation.”
The young man smiled benevolently.
“I have nothing to forgive, Alfred; I understand your hesitation and your
eagerness to protect Bruce and…” should he tell him that? “I’m really happy
Bruce has someone like you caring for him. Would you join me?’’
Alfred resumed his seat.
“You asked me about Master Bruce as a child, may I ask the reason?”
It was a fair request and Clark nodded, but his eyes stayed low, looking at his
almost empty plate of carrot salad.
“He is always distant, as if in a different world that he leaves only to soothe
his loved ones. He is tense all the time; he speaks so little and only if he’s
probed. He is so hesitant to feel… to open himself. Sometimes he seems so cold…
I know that what he’s been through all these years is too much and he would
have been much worse if he wasn’t so strong… But I was wondering: how he was
before? When his life was like every child’s, when he was carefree?”
Alfred moved in his chair; he intertwined his fingers and a shadow fell over
his warm eyes. Clark regretted his question seeing how painful this subject was
for the man and he was ready to dismiss his question but Alfred caught him.
“Master Bruce was a very goodhearted child – he still is; he became Batman not
only to free himself and regain his father’s fortune but also to help Gotham,
to give people hope.” Clark nodded; he was there when he brought together Dent
and his father. “Yet as a child his heart was like an open flower absorbing the
sun of other people’s joy – now” he sighed “that flower is frozen; he is happy
with other people’s happiness but that isn’t enough to make him fly.” He
smiled. “Before the kidnapping and everything that followed Master Bruce was
happiness incarnated: he could make you smile only with his smile. And when he
saw unhappiness or pain, he was like a withered flower, and you wanted to erase
any ugliness of the world just to make him smile again.”
Clark smiled, remembering the few times he saw Bruce smiling.
“He still has a great smile…”
But Alfred shook his head sad.
“You should have seen him smiling then… Now he smiles and persuades everyone
that he is… not happy but … content, however I know better: he smiles to
satisfy us, to sooth our fears but this smile has nothing to do with him; is
forced.” His eyes pointed to the sun. “Before all these his smile, his laughter
was him; he was living that laughter… Oh! You should have heard his giggles
when his mother tickled him or Master Thomas made him fly – Master Bruce always
wanted to fly - or when he was playing with Master Anthony…”
Clark felt a pang; he cherished his friends from Smallville and their
experiences together yet he could give everything to have shared what Stark had
shared with his Star – maybe then Bruce wouldn’t be trying so desperately to
push him away.
“Master Anthony is six years older than Master Bruce but then their age
difference was more evident. Master Bruce was still too innocent and physically
underdeveloped for his age while Master Anthony was” he smiled “already a
preteen extremely mature for his age.”
Clark knew that ‘mature’ didn’t refer to Stark’s qualitative thinking.
“Yet he was playing with Master Bruce even though I knew that he found those
games childish. He couldn’t deny his little friend and Bruce was actually – not
controlling – but he had a charm even in this age that made the older child
follow him. All of us, as a matter of fact… I remember him in the shelter with
his mother serving homeless people or at Leslie’s clinic running like a little
devil to make errands for the doctors or speaking with the ill and abused
children and the adults – the free clinic was always crammed not only with
people in need but also with people who wanted to speak with him.” Alfred was
teary. “He was hope for them; a rich kid walking among them, speaking to them,
smiling to them, playing with their kids – not afraid of Gotham's evil. Maybe
I’m biased as a bragging…” he almost said ‘parent’ but stopped out of modesty
“almost guardian, but Bruce was like a small sun… Until those people took him
and gradually put away even the little light that his parents’ murders allowed
to survive and iced the warmth…”
Clark saw the good man’s broken heart that always managed to hide from the
strangers and Bruce. Alfred was strong yet he knew better than anyone the
damage they had done to his son.
“He still cares for people, Alfred; he still gives hope to everyone. He still
makes us smile.”
“Indeed. Yet his then soft heart is petrified: he gives happiness and hope but
he can’t get any; his heart is bleeding where the stone hasn’t covered it. He
is cold inside, he doesn’t love life anymore…”
“ I’m darkness and you are light, I’m dirty and you’re pure. There’s only ice
inside me... I have nothing to offer anymore; they took everything my body had
to give. I can’t give happiness to anyone, not even to myself.”
Clark felt humidity in his eyes.
“He still keeps that horrible grave with his name on...” Alfred’s voice was
stoic but he could discern the exasperation, the agony.
His eyes zoomed to the graveyard and saw beside the big tombstones of Thomas
and Martha Wayne’s graves the small one with ‘Bruce Wayne’ engraved on. There
were white roses at the graves of the two adults.
“He manages to find the time to lay roses to his parents’ graves daily but not
to eat!” Alfred exclaimed knowing that Clark was seeing the graveyard and
stood. “Forgive my emotional outburst, Master Kent; I should leave now.”
He turned to leave but Clark stopped him with his gaze.
“Thank you, Alfred, for trusting me with these gems; I care for Bruce and I
promise you that I’ll do my best to help him start loving life again, even if
he pushes me away...” he smiled.
Alfred mirrored his smile and raised an eyebrow; admittedly the image of his
young master ‘pushing away’ the most powerful man in Earth was rather funny.
“Thank you, sir. This is a job for Superman, indeed. If you need anything,
press the beeper.”
Clark nodded and let his eyes wander to the Manor’s bright green lawn and
remade his childhood to include Bruce in it: he was playing with the six years
younger kid between the bushes instead of Stark and Bruce was too cute, too
sweet as he saw him in pictures; he was making Bruce laugh with his sunshine
laughter, tickling him, rolling him among the flower petals and showing him how
beautiful the world was, he was taking him in his arms to fly with him, loosing
himself to the small boy’s glistening in the sun sapphire-emerald eyes and
intoxicated by his lively jubilant laughter, his too soft heart’s joyful
heartbeat...
“I’ll make you laugh again, like this, Bruce. I promise...”
 
Harvey didn’t stay at his office, instead preferred to be at the open space of
the storey where his assistants had their offices. He went from one to another
fixing details about legalizing police’s presence in some places and perusing
newest information about the murders and the evidence.
Except there was no evidence for that Joker and his goons. Although he had let
his calling card, forensics didn’t find anything to identify a person; he was
very careful and Gordon as well himself was certain that he wasn’t new in the
field. The same things for Falcone’s body, too. Although the man had been
tortured for hours there were no traces in his body to form identities.
Like facing a ghost. He was reminded of Batman but the vigilante was their ally
– at least, for the time being: he trusted the man however things always can
get awry. For now the main concern was that criminal, Joker and his threats.
Okay, he threatens Bruce Wayne but he kills innocents in the course and this
city and its people had suffered a lot to not be unsettled by a situation like
that.
And to make matters more complex they had the imminent meeting of the ‘big
three’ which will decide if Gotham would be shared between them or would be the
battlefield for a gang war. Of course they wouldn't permit either with Batman’s
help: they knew the meeting place, the day and the time, so from that angle
what could go wrong?
He had to prepare the paperwork for that too and be very careful because
although he brought with him in Gotham trusted attorneys from the federal
office, the DA was still packed with minor clerks of unchecked loyalties who
may have secondary duties but couldn’t be left without supervision.
When he came to Gotham thrilled to be back and to be part of Falcone’s defeat
and the city’s renaissance, he found the DA office in a miserable state:
archives damaged or altogether missing, unorganized material, sneering
attorneys who of course were dismissed following their shady superior. Yet he
knew what to expect and didn’t flinched; he had temporary Commissionaire
Gordon’s full support, Batman – though he never met him personally, he was sure
that the man would be reliable -, and Bruce, who had made his job in Falcone’s
trial effortless, offered him his support and brought him and his father
together again.
But now Bruce was making his life hard. He refused to accept the police detail
with such stubbornness that... made him mad. And Jim was upset too but not
angry; he seemed rather ready for such a reaction due to the fact that he
probably had known Wayne when he was a child. Why Bruce didn’t understand that
their job will be more difficult if they fear all the time for him?
Fine, his considerations about the citizens of Gotham were more than
understandable and more than laudable, but if anything happened to him, how
could they fix that? For God’s sake, it wasn’t even two months since the man
was liberated, he shouldn’t be in such a danger! And he shouldn’t be so
indifferent to that! He had taken some psychology classes during his studies
however and realization that Bruce maybe had a death wish as it was often in
victims of severe abuse stroke him nastily. Or maybe by showing a brave face he
was just trying to get rid off of the victim label which ordered him to hide in
every threat.
“We can always issue a warrant and put him in a safe place till we catch that
lunatic” Rob an assistant attorney he had brought with him from Metropolis
snapped seeing him in thought. “We can claim troubled mental state after the
threats of this man – who will doubt that with everything he suffered? -, take
his guardian’s signature and do it without his will.”
Rob was a technocrat... Harvey rubbed his forehead and smiled shaking his head.
“First, we can’t make such a claim because a month ago he was psychologically
assessed for his sanity and was proved healthier than any of us in his mental
functioning; plus, we’ll face the entire legal department of Wayne Enterprises;
a claim for mental instability will set Bruce’s Presidency in question.
Secondly, his guardian won’t sign something that is against Bruce’s will. And
thirdly, for God’s sake, Rob!” he laughed to not let his anger burst “he was
jailed against his will for eighteen years: do you really want to make him
relive it?”
Rob sighed and lowered a bit his eyes; he was a technocrat but he cared about
people.
“It’s for saving his life and it will free our hands and brains.”
“I’m sure Falcone was saying things like that to him, Robby. Look, we leave at
side the obligatory detention: this man managed to keep his mind sane through
all this Hell, I don’t want to be the one who will shatter it now.”
Rob had his teeth clenched, his head tilted but his clever eyes in his.
“Do you think that Joker will spare his mind? He already began to breach that
strong but in weak fountains mind. How more murders-copies of his parents’ will
he take?”
Harvey sighed; Rob had a point. If they took Bruce in a safe place far from
Gotham – even better if they persuaded Tony Stark to take his friend to his
fortress in Malibu -, he would not have any information about what happened
there; his mind in peace. Who is he kidding? No way, Bruce would be in peace
knowing that a madman killed people in his name and surely went to a killing
spree realizing that his infatuation left...
“You have a point, Robby, yet we better wait: panic won’t help. Maybe we catch
him soon and we’ll don’t need to use such means. Or if things worsen maybe
Bruce changes his mind, otherwise we use force.” Not without misgivings.
The intercom beeped and Harvey answered.
“Who?” he frowned. “Yeah, send her in.”
Rob looked him questioningly.
“An old classmate from Harvard.” He replied feigning cool.
His friend lifted a wicked eyebrow.
“Do you want to see her in your office?” he asked.
They both saw the brown-red haired woman entering the office crammed space,
searching with her eyes for Harvey. She was holding two paper bags. Harvey
waved to her because he wouldn’t be heard through all that noise.
Rachel smiled happily and rushed to his place.
“Wow! You’re really overloaded, huh?’’ she said placing the bags on the office.
“Good thing, I thought of that and I brought something for everyone...”
She opened the bags and the smell of fresh cooked food flooded the room.
“I brought various things for different tastes...”
Harvey smiled and Rob peeked at the bags’ contents greedily.
“That’s very considerate, Miss...”
Harvey blushed.
“Sorry, I forgot to introduce you: Rachel, this is my colleague and friend
Robert Hatchet, Rob this is Rachel Dawes my classmate from Harvard.”
They shook hands and Harvey gave the bags to Rob to hand out the goodies.
“That was a very pleasant surprise, Rachel” he said after Rob was far enough.
She shrugged.
“We left that ‘meeting again’ thing pretty vague so I thought to make it more
solid. But then I saw what that crazy guy did and figured that you wouldn’t
want to leave your office at war, so” she inhaled deeply “you couldn’t go to
the food thus I brought the food to you...”
He winked.
“And you thought my partners too...”
Rachel tilted her head and smiled innocently.
“I didn’t want them to blame me for bribing the DA...”
“So you bribed the entire office.” He laughed.
Rachel’s eyes were calculating.
“Indeed. So, is there any chance we have a proper dinner? Believe me, I know
how it is to deal daily with a loony” she rolled her eyes and Harvey laughed
understanding that she meant her employer “and you need a break from that!” she
nodded with emphasis. “Mmm? Can I steal you for a couple of hours from Joker
and Bruce Wayne?”
Harvey scratched the back of his neck.
“I don’t think that either of them is as fond of me as you... I suppose that
tomorrow evening things would be a bit more in order but still I can’t promise
you. I’ll call you tomorrow to fix this.” He blinked and loosened his
shoulders. “I’m sorry, Rachel...”
She smiled in a tight line.
“You don’t have; I understand and I’m thrilled to see how devoted you are.
Well, tomorrow then...” she brushed his hand hesitantly and her bright eyes
dived in his. “I’ll let you take care of Gotham, now, hoping that you’ll make
some time for me, too...”
She waved and stepped to the entrance of the office never leaving the young DA
from her eyes, hardly avoiding hit other people – she laughed at her
‘clumsiness’ and he did the same. At least, she made a good start; Jackie would
be happy to know that Harvey Dent was gullible.
 
Whoever cared to look more carefully Freddy’s hunched ragged form, would have
noticed that his shuffle was heavier today and became heavier as the evening
was gradually giving its place to night.
Bruce was trying to keep the things he discovered today imprisoned in a small,
dark place at the basement of his mind in order to focus on his mission: to
hear and see if anyone in the Narrows and the docks knew something about this
Joker. The man needed henchmen to commit his ‘impressive’ crimes and henchmen
don’t stay confined and speak mostly with their likes.
So he started his exhausting journey from the docks and their many long
abandoned – and thus perfect for criminal headquarters – warehouses. Also there
was the purlieu of thugs from different gangs who now that Falcone fell
preferred to avoid the Narrows during the day.
There were workers too working at the cargo ships and sometimes they were
discussing odd things that caught their attention without knowing exactly what
they saw.
Though they were chatting about Joker’s crimes, they didn’t mention anything
that could hint that the man or his thugs were seen. People of hard work and
shady men were speaking for him as well. Most of them just stating the facts
and some commenting harshly.
“And all these for ‘im; a nutcase stuck with Wayne ‘nd us in the middl’. That’s
unfair, man!”
“I’ve kids the same age with the poor kid he butchered...”
“Wayn’ is a menace; that Bert was right: look! Entir’ city in terror for his
ass and he plays the cool havin’ his super pals guardin’ him. Unfair.”
“Com’ on, guys; ain’t his fault that a freak kills people: that weirdo saw him
on TV and uses his fame to boost himself.”
“Yep and the boy stayed her’ when he could have run to his Ironman buddy: I’d
rush and hide behind his armor. And when he’s suffered so much from that
bastar’ Falcone.”
“Eh! Freddy! What’s your sayin’?” a huge worker yelled, giggling. “Sayin’...”
laughed loudly for the beggar’s muteness.
“Com’ her’, Freddy!” one of the party said benevolently and patting him rather
roughly on the back, gave him his second sandwich. “You’re lucky, old man! You
hav’ nothing similar to Wayn’ so you’re in no danger!”
They laughed but the worker with the children wasn’t so happy and Freddy’s dead
eyes focused on him hidden behind his dirty white blond locks as he ate
greedily the sandwich. His eyes were sad.
“Ya starve, huh? Didn’t find any bottles to sell? Go to Wayne’s Haven: ya’ll
have food and bed ther’.”
He had just stared and left the company of workers to see if he’ll be luckier
in the seamy part of the docks which was the only place in Gotham that you
could find members of every gang. Of course after the last police raid and the
arrests, thugs were rather scattered and cautious, since policemen were
patrolling the area, preferring to assemble in dark corners between the
derelict warehouses.
“I tell ya, pal, is crazy” a giant African American was saying to his peer in
Gambol’s gang. “A nuts panicking Gotham; he’s not even a proper gangster – he’s
a joke! He’ll take a punch from boss to scatter! That’ll teach ‘im!”
“I don’t know, man... He seems dangerous: he took Falcone from a high security
can...”
The first one spat.
“Joints... ‘S not that difficult... I tell ya Gambol ain’t worry about that
scum. Piece of cake!”
“Nobody knows anything about ‘im... Like that Bat...”
The other snorted.
“Ya believe that the Bat is real?” his sneering was annoying.
The second thug seemed affronted.
“Moroni’s boys an’ their broken bones say that he’s real.”
He shrugged.
“He’ll be treat for rats soon an’ that clown, too. An’ things’ll be back to
normal.’’
“We shoulda give ‘im Wayne to be sure. I don’t want my head chopped for that
brat’s ass!”
The other laughed loudly.
“What an ass though, eh? I’ll gladly give ‘im a ride. His puppy eyes will pop
out an’ ‘is ass will be ripped – ya know wha’ I mean...” He winked sniggering.
A third man approached them, a marijuana cigarette in his lips. His thatch
giving him the look of a reggae singer rather than a thug.
“Don’ think so, Lee; after Falcone and Chill ‘is beautiful ass has takin
everything...” he giggled. “Didn’ ya hear? Falcone stuck a medal rod in ‘is
hole an’ electrocute ‘im an’ he was really young, man.”
Lee scowled.
“Do ya think is true, Raggie?” the second thug asked the newcomer.
“I knew som’ people workin’ for Falcon’ and they’re sayin’ that they heard the
kid screamin’ and beggin’ every night – they didn’ know that the boy was Wayn’
or didna say.”
“I wouldna touch ‘im even if he begged me” the third man said shrugging. “I
tell ya, guys; he carries a curse...”
The other two laughed and Lee patted him roughly on the back.
“Com’ on, brotha, ya from Haiti? Even Raggie her’ who’s a pot brain doesn’t
bite that...”
But he shook his head.
“Look at ‘im. His parents were killed, Stark ‘lmost killed, Chill killed and
look wha’ happen’ to Falcone an’ to tha family. I tell ya; tha boy is
cursed...”
The others were still smiling but it was rather cold smiles.
“He ain’t new year’s lucky charm, that’s sure, man!” Raggie exclaimed exhaling
his marijuana smoke.
Freddy had turned and followed the shadows lumbering. He felt frustrated; the
entire afternoon and evening was a waste, he learnt nothing. He heard only
nonsense, nothing useful. Nonsense... Was nonsense? Bruce Wayne was cursed...
Everyone near him killed or almost dead. Funny... Sometimes he was thinking the
same nonsense.
And he had this hollow feeling from the morning that as the day was passing by
and after Lucius’ findings, became a clutch squeezing his insides. His head was
heavy, feeling like covered by a thick mist; he was dizzy and not exactly dizzy
at the same time, his feet trying to do what he was supposed to do without his
conscious participation.
He should have been relieved that they had discovered soon what was happening
to Clark and that now having the powerful ingredients of Aristotle’s wondrous
elixir, Lucius and Tony would be able to make the vaccine. Ow! He had to tell
Tony... And he could already see his expression, his eyes triumphant as his
should have been too because he knew that the right thing for Clark was
stopping feeling anything for him. He wasn’t good for him, poison or not...
Then why the clutch became tighter? It was because he didn’t realize sooner as
he should; it was rather obvious, after all, wasn’t? How else would Superman,
Clark, anyone fall in love with him? But he didn’t think it; he willingly shut
his mind to that route of thought and let himself believe, vainly be happy that
he still could be the recipient of such feelings.
“Foolish whore!”
The Ra’s’ sniggering voice echoed in his mind’s chambers.
“You thought that you killing me would stop my plan? The best plans are those
that not require the presence of their maker to unfold. And your stupidity made
the plan work smoothly.”
But he had stopped the unfolding so he should be able to coax the clutch to
loosen. He let Clark’s life in danger by letting himself be immerged to the
stupidity of believing that he could be loved, not just desired for a screw.
Images of himself be fucked by Chill in the alley that his parents’ died, of
Falcone fucking him everywhere he fancied, of Ra’s thrusting in his pinned to
the wall shivering body, of Bane’s horrifically disfigured face capturing his
entire vision range sniggering as he impaled him, of various thugs of Falcone
cornering him at Dolcetto and pawing his buttocks or his genitals or
penetrating him with their fingers...
He closed his eyes: the images were so many and different each time, so many...
Thousands of hot needles stabbing him – thousands! His heart made an odd jolt
and he felt it sinking in his rib case. Napier was right: he had been fucked
more than any retired prostitute. How anyone in their right mind could fall in
love with such filth? Even he couldn’t stand that filth, all the different
smells of the various bodies that had violated him and Clark with his super
smell could catch each one of them...
Stupid, stupid, stupid! You were vain enough and moron to think that what he
was saying to you was because of who you are; but you’re disgusting even with
the peak of the iceberg that Clark heard you admitting at Falcone’s trial. And
a man like him wouldn’t bear such dirt... His heart is so kind that he helped
you, saved you, became your friend but not more... Nobody can love someone like
you – you don’t deserve it and filth like you can’t handle it.
He felt a vicious pang in his ass as if he needed any reminder of who he really
was. Even Leslie’s insist on being examined proved how filthy he was; Leslie
knew it and she didn’t want him to spread his filth to other people.
She was wise – he was fool, naive, selfish, indulging in the notion of someone
like Clark loving him... So selfish that preferred to live with the
hallucination of Clark having fallen for him, than to open his mind to the
obvious: he knew what Ra’s was doing, he heard him but let himself forget it...
Selfish monster...
Where he was? He rubbed his covered with makeup forehead and looked – really
looked – around him; the daylight had ebbed and night was crawling slowly.
You’re kidding me!
The small light balls were smashed, the word Dolcetto was so dark and gloomy as
the secrets it covered with his jubilant music and multicolored lights – two
months ago at this time the lights were already ignited, calling people inside.
Under the extinct label the entrance was wrapped with yellow police tapes
ordering people to stay away. It was a cursed place as he was...
He bent and passed underneath the tapes and walked inside. It was dark but as
his eyes adjusted to darkness he discerned everything; besides he knew every
detail by heart. The foyer with the cloakroom was the least known to him place
because his masters didn’t want him seen by bystanders or to see the sunlight.
He smiled: if he was Superman, he’d have died by lack of sun radiation! The
clutch became a cramp; he shouldn’t have made that association.
He shuffled to the inner hall – the hall of the entertainment, the hall he
twice a day swept and mopped with his one working hand while the other cried in
pain. The tables and chairs had remained upturned as every night after the fest
ended, still waiting to be tidied up to host their new happy clientele. He
could still hear the echo of the orchestra playing and the roar of chats and
giggles, as he was hearing them from his corner, at the basement under the
stair that led from Hades to the world. Where various thugs pinned him and
initiated with him what they ended with the cabaret's girls who didn’t have a
client. They didn’t go very far because they feared Falcone and proper
penetration would show.
He brushed the down side of the stair; he knew every detail of the wood: every
scar, dirt; each speckle of time. He was focusing his stare there till the
thugs ended their doing, trying in vain to block what was happening. He could
even feel again the humid air from their mouths, the fool, thick smell of cheap
smoke, alcohol and food – more food than he have eaten in years – blocking the
air from his nose and mouth, making him feel asphyxiating; the hotness of their
gasps burning his small face as the rasping became quicker and laborious
matching the movements of their hands on his privates.
His feet dragged him away to the basement corridor. It was even darker but it
was always as this, to forget that the upper world existed. The corridor was
lengthy, endless for a small kid and it had many doors on both sides; doors
that were left open: the cellar which was the cabaret's huge storage , the
rooms for the clients with the most peculiar tastes and the most need for
privacy, some chambers that before Falcone’s victory were used to store drugs
or weapons. Only one door made with rusty metal at the end of the corridor was
closed, crossed with many yellow tapes reading ‘CSI’ – Crime Scene
Investigation.
He felt a shiver and an unreasoned wave of anger and tore the wall of yellow
tapes. He walked calmly inside. It was so small! Though only a year had passed
since he was jailed there it seemed even smaller. So familiar, so cosy even
though here was more freezing. He made six steps on the steep, stony surface
and he was standing in front of the huge – for the cage’s dimensions because
otherwise was rather medium - stalactite that fell from the ceiling and reached
the floor. It covered the rest of the cage, offering coverage to the opening to
the rabbit hole that led to the secret underworld city. He brushed it
affectionately; he could trace the marks his bound wrists have left on the
yellowish mineral – his eyes had adjusted perfectly long ago.
He realized that Freddy’s ragged, full of holes shoes were stepping upon his
blood; the floor had been watered countless times with his blood which was
dropping from his whipped back and his battered face and... Another bite down
there, so intense as if he was just used by Falcone and then during the
transfer there by the jealous Chill.
He raised his gaze at the ceiling which was only a few inches above his adult
posture. He smiled tenderly and fought the urge to caress the black, twitchy
velvet; bats hadn’t woken up and he didn’t want to scare them, because the
small creatures knew Bruce not Freddy and Freddy’s smell was different from the
alcohol. His heart felt a stream of warm blood.
“I haven’t forgotten you” he whispered smoothly. “You’re my companions, my
comforters, my guide, my friends; you were bringing me news from the world” he
laughed in his mouth “from Tony.” He closed his eyes. “Many times I want to
come back here and sleep with your soothing sounds... but I can’t...” he
sighed. “I don’t want to hurt again my loved ones...”
His head fell a bit and his fingers dag the stalactite and his hot forehead
touched the cool stone.
Enough! You had enough self pity? You had enough time wasted with your
nonsense? You’re so good in that! As you wasted time harming Superman,
indulging in your bullshit for love and kisses... You should have been
celebrating that this joke will end, that Clark will stop to court you... What
do you want with his love anyway? To torment him? As if you’d ever allow anyone
to touch you again!
 No, my body had had enough for two lifetimes and more... And now I’m selfish
again, immerging in helplessness while innocent people are in danger because of
me! The only worthy part of me is Batman...
“Goodbye...” he breathed to the steering bats and hurried his steps to the
other end of the corridor.
He ascended the stairs and shuffled towards the end of the spacious cabaret
hall to the foyer.
“Look what we got her’...” a sneering voice called. “An ol’ geezer in our
loot!”
***** Chapter 21 *****
The huge hall was drenched in thick darkness but the piercing white light of a
flashlight attacked his face and he ducked to avoid it. There were three men
just coming in and that was the reason he didn’t detect their presence earlier.
Still that wasn’t an excuse. He blundered and now he could just cower to
protect his facade. Good thing he wasn’t Bruce Wayne right now to evoke ideas
of kidnapping or worse; Freddy was negligible to Gotham’s hard world.
The man holding the torch sped to him jeering and Freddy squatted petrified,
the light torturing his trying to escape eyes. Now the man was towering his
slumbering at the wall form and he brought his arm to protect his eyes from the
light that blinded him.
Two more pairs of feet came close.
“I know him, Tom” a different voice from the first told. “He’s a beggar,
drunken the most time; he sells bottles to scrape out.”
“An’ he cam’ her’ to steal from us, eh Rhino...” the first dragged his words
menacingly, tilting his head and Freddy behind the dirty curtain of his long
hair could discern his eyes glee. “Ya’re tresspassin’, shithead, an’ that calls
for punishment!” he sniggered and the others followed.
To make his statement firmer he pulled out of his jacket a knife which blade
shone evilly at the torch’s light and Freddy crinkled more; images of another
blade’s shine blowing in his mind, a cleaver’s blade held by a huge hand in
front of a kid’s face right in this place. He was to be the cutting game of
those goons, unable to smash them unless he betrayed his facade; also, he
didn’t know how much the makeup and the prosthetics would last to a knife’s
ministrations. He cursed again his stupidity: imagine if his disguise wears off
and they see Bruce Wayne underneath... He wouldn't let that happen.
“’nless, ya got the fee...” he hissed and Freddy’s eyes bulged foolishly.
“Rhino says ya sell bottles – hand me what ya got an’ maybe I spar’ ya!”
He extended his hand, palm upturned towards the shivering old man who seemed
entirely frozen from fear, his eyes petrified on the threatening knife.
“Now, ya maggot!”
He closed his eyes and shook his head frantically in negation: he didn’t have
any money with him – he thought it more truthful for his facade to have his
pockets empty.
“’m loosin’ my patience, ol’ fool...”
He pulled out desperately his pants’ pockets and then his ragged coat’s to show
him that he didn’t have any money. His eyes were begging as much as their
paleness permitted but the thug’s face was cruel and his hand clenched angrily
the knife’s handle.
“Ya drank the money or ya hide it! I’ll jerk ya rags to find it an’ then I’ll
cut ya opin, ya shit!”
The man surged on him but was met with the bricks of the wall, as Freddy
crawled on his palms to avoid the man and simultaneously not show more agility
than he should. He pretended clumsiness and tackled the attacking goon in his
effort to flee, pushing away the torch and submerging the space again in
darkness for the three men because he was able to see.
He managed to pass Tom’s fallen mass but another thug trying to find his way
blocked his path and Bruce’s face collided with his knee, making his nose
protest angrily. He used their random collision to make his head butt the man’s
groin seemingly unwilling and the thug fell on the floor cupping his groin and
screaming. Bruce made to jolt to his feet and run but he felt something cold
and sharp to the back of his neck.
“Easy, Freddy, before you hurt more people in your crawling” it was the guy
that said he knew the beggar. “Your life is a waste of space, after all.”
Rhino fisted his wig and yanked his head and Bruce despite his bleeding nose’s
throbbing, was grateful to Lucius’ artificial hair for their unyielding
stability. Tom regaining his balance approached bringing with him the torch
which handed to the third man who was still massaging his genitals with one
hand.
The head thug was now even angrier; his eyes glistening in the dark and his
breath uneven. He took his knife from the thug who held Freddy and without a
word made a swift attacking movement that evoked a yell from Freddy as his
sliced stomach began bleeding. He whimpered as the man yanking his head
tightened his hold to keep him exposed to his leader’s revenge and Bruce
readied his body to attack – the stabbing pain was enraging him: there wasn’t a
chance he’ll let them wound him more, he’ll bust their bones; nobody is going
to believe that Freddy did that and they won’t dare admit that an old beggar
beat them.
He had already slipped his head from the thug's grasp, causing his surprised
exclamation and he was ready to break their leader’s hand which was on the go
to sink the blade again in his body. When he saw at the light of the torch the
thug’s eyes bulging socked, a horrific cry of pain escaping his lips as the
knife fell from his loosened fingers which were crossed by streams of hot
blood.
“HA HA HA and again HA!” a nasal, screeching voice invaded the dark place and
Bruce recognized it without the need of the torch’s light that the third thug
directed there, his shaking distorting the man’s figure.
A wide, long blade was protruding from the middle of Tom’s palm; his whimpers
completely paralyzing his peers as he was holding his useless bleeding hand
flabbergasted.
Bruce slowly cowered into the shadows to watch the man for whom he was
searching all day, his palm pressing the big slash through his stomach. That
was the Joker from up close?
The man was dressed with his usual dark purple long coat and pants, his face
exactly as he saw it on the video. He was approaching the shocked men with slow
strides full of confidence, every now and then hoping like a schoolgirl, his
head tilted to the left scrutinizing the three thugs behind his green curly
locks.
“Lookie, lookie, lookie…” he dragged his tongue menacingly, his eyes glistening
in the plenty light of the torch like a hyenas that smelled blood. “I de-cided
to go sightseeing aaaaand some scum is littering MY saaaacred place… Sooory,
guys, that’s UN—forgivable” with a swift motion that only Bruce managed to
catch a bare blade was in his purple leather clad hands.
He tilted even more his white painted, scarred head and searched the men with
his mad eyes.
“Sooooo, Ripper” he said to the death pale man who had stabbed Freddy and now
was trying to pull the blade out of his smashed hand bones “you think you know
about knives?” his voice was calm as if he was really chatting the issue but
Bruce felt the man’s blood thirst raging.
He overcame his initial hesitation and pressed gently the button of the beeper
GCPD’s Narrows Division had given the residents of the most dangerous area of
Gotham to enable them to activate an alarm at the local police department in
case of an emergency – the system was connected with Google Earth to give the
exact location. This was actually his idea in the frame of the area’s
restoration with the Haven’s creation and he carried a special, almost
invisible edition of the gadget, with him during his spying excursions. He
didn’t want to use it for himself because he could escape but now there were
people at risk and he was unwilling to reveal himself to Joker. He hoped that
the police would get there soon and that he’d manage to slip undetected.
“Ya… Ya that clown who… who… killed Falcon’…” Tom stuttered, his hand trembling
on the blade’s hilt from the pain.
Joker made a deep bow.
“Ooooh! I’m already a sssstarrrr – how flat-tering! Let me help you with that…”
his voice became understanding but Bruce could discern the truth.
The blade launched from the clown’s hand like a flash to slash the thug’s
wrist, his palm dropping to the floor with a sickening wet sound. The man’s
eyes were popping out of their sockets taking in the blood spurting from his
cut veins. Bruce bit his lip; the man was going to die from bleeding in a few
minutes and Joker would slaughter the rest and he couldn’t do anything to save
them, unless he was to ruin his cover.
Fortunately, one of the men, the one called Rhino, found the clarity to pull
his gun and point it to the snorting clown – of course he was snorting: the
poor thug was shaking uncontrollably.
“Your hands iiiin the… the air; I’ll… shoot!” he yelled the last part, yet
Bruce shook his head; he was a dead man.
Joker jumped on him like an attacking wolf, a shine in his hands revealing a
blade conjured out of thin air; Rhino was found on the floor struggling vainly
to detach the beast from him, the blade already rapidly descending to his
chest.
Bruce unable to stop his compassion even for his almost killers rushed to the
raging clown, only to halt abruptly as the third goon jumped on Joker, grasping
his armed hand fighting to keep the blade away from his friend – their leader
had already collapsed some feet away from the blood loss.
Rhino encouraged by his friend’s interval rose a bit and assisted the man
holding Joker’s hand to crush him on the floor, both of them straddling him.
For an instance, it seemed that the clash had ended and Bruce was relieved but
through the jumble of bodies he heard the distinctive sound of blade slashing
fabric and flesh and the jet of liquid. Surprised yells of pain erupted from
the goons who staggered before Joker threw them from him, their bowels waving
at the air as they crushed on the floor.
The man himself stood slowly with confidence, blades in both his hands
glistening in the light of the neglected on a corner torch, blood streams
slithering on his gloves’ leather and then to the floor. He yanked his head to
kick some stray locks from his eyes and looked hungrily at his convulsing
victims. He strutted towards them and Bruce could see the hot blots of blood
finishing his makeup.
But he saw Bruce – Freddy – who didn’t take coverage again; after all, it was
unnecessary, Bruce thought, Joker had already seen him.
“’Scuse me, grandpa; With you in a moment…”
Bruce saw with his dead brown eyes the clown kneeling above Tom who was in
spasms from the heavy blood loss – probably, close to his last moments. The
man’s eyes were extruding, crystal in pain and terror. Bruce’s heart was
clenched; it didn’t matter that he was an outlaw, he was dying a horrific death
and he didn’t want to allow it. He shuffled his feet with speed that wouldn’t
betray his true age towards the exit, feeling the frenzied eyes of Joker
watching him. If he could lure Joker to take him away from the men till the
police came…
The madman’s considerable weight was on him dragging him to the floor, rolling
him on his back to be face to face, two blades at both sides of his face. He
could throw him from his body but he didn’t want to reveal himself or risking
the blades destroying his facial prosthetics.
“You’re an im-patient customer, huh? Don’t waiting youuuur order…” their faces
were in breath’s distance, the blades’ steel grazing him; Joker’s eyes were
confused. “Ooooor you’re trying to save them…”
Bruce felt sweat drops which was good to make his performance realistic. He
made his eyes fill only with terror though disgust was filling him too, due to
Joker’s body’s proximity. Joker’s thigh pressed his injured stomach and he
moaned as an old man would.
“Naaaaah!” the man exclaimed, regarding the dark spot in his dirty coat that
constantly became bigger. “You can’t save yourself aaaaand you can’t save
theeeem… I came here to see the place MY Bruceyyy grew up AND I found you
loitering. Tut-tut-tut… ANDDDD I’m PISSED! Youuuu ruined my walk!”
Freddy closed his eyes; Joker’s spit escaping his enraged mouth and raining
him, hot and acid smelling. The old man’s rasp was almost exactly that of an
asthma attack and he could feel Joker’s excitement for the fear he caused.
“LOOK AT ME!” he yelled and Freddy opened shyly his heavy lids.
Joker was smiling benevolently but in a way that made your spine froze. He felt
the blade caressing his perfectly made up cheek. Freddy’s eyes were begging
now; the grunts and whimpers of the wounded men creating a hellish atmosphere.
“You seem a man who never smiled in his life, soooo I should give you a smile
as I will for these there. Buuuuut your shitish, dry skin is useless for my
needs…’’ he seemed thoughtful and Bruce once again noticed something familiar
in his scars that hadn’t anything to do with the video. “I’ll take theirs AND
then I’ll gut you – oh! It’s so long from the last time I redeemed people like
you! Uuugh! I looooove to help homeless – HAHAHAHAHA! If only Brucey understood
that…” he murmured seriously, a shadow over his black painted eyes.
As his face was leaned above Freddy’s he brought his painted lips to brush the
old man’s forehead who shivered under him making the clown frown curiously. He
shook his head and removed the one blade only to have a look at his wristwatch
with Mickey Mouse’s face on the plate. He sighed frustrated.
“I must hurry with you guys – I have a house call to make ‘cause some people
simply don’t… WANT to understand! I WARNED them not harm MY sweetie but what
they do? Call him whooo-re! AND that’s UN-forgivable!”
Bruce felt a shiver in his back: Bert… The clown perused him with his sharp
green eyes.
“Whaaaat do you have to say, ol’ chap?” he tilted his head. “After all, they
say that oldies are wise…” Freddy was looking him with petrified eyes and Joker
nodded frantically. “Aaaaaand youuuuu agree – I knewwww it!”
It was astonishing how rapid Joker’s madness turned into pure sanity and anger
at hearing police sirens fast approaching. He growled frustrated and looked at
the fallen men indecisive between finishing his work and making a safe escape.
His indecisiveness lasted only two seconds and he focused on the old man, his
grip on both blades tightening, as his scars.
Bruce understood that Joker realized that finishing the others would endanger
him, so he decided to kill at least him; he was under him, after all, and
completely defenseless. He saw the blades glistening in the torch’s light like
flashes and prepared himself for the slicing of his face but the metal halted
abruptly an inch from his flesh. The clown was smiling gleefully at his open
eyes.
“See you around, oldie…”
He dismounted, jumping to his feet and ran out of the place throwing his cards
as if they were leaflets. The sirens were approaching.
Bruce instantly stood on his feet; he had hardly a minute before police
officers flooded the place. He hurried to find the goons’ knife which sliced
his stomach; he had to erase the traces of his presence there and his blood on
the blade was the severest.
The knife had fallen where the thug had him cornered. He scanned the spot and
found it. The sirens were closer now but his heart was beating so calm as if he
was still at the Manor. He took a bottle of bourbon from the abandoned bar and
washed both sides of the blade; the blood drops immediately dissolving. He
didn’t care about his fingerprints because his fingers were covered with
special made latex which resembled perfectly the human flesh.
He was ready to go, just on time to evade the police but on hurrying to the
entrance, wheezes and huffs mixed with groans of pain stopped him. His stare
fell on the man with the mutilated hand; he was still alive, trembling, his
face sweaty and his unfocused eyes suddenly rose to stab him.
“Pppple…” he gasped desperately and Bruce didn’t need to hear the word
completed to understand the plea which was plain in the man’s hopeless eyes.
The sirens were too close yet Bruce couldn’t let him: he wasn’t sure if they
had an ambulance with them and the man wouldn’t last anymore with this
bleeding.
He pressed his lips and rushed to the two other men. He ripped shreds from the
one’s cloth and returned to their leader. He positioned the hilt of the knife –
after smashing the blade - a few inches above the cut and wrapped the fabric
around, twisting the hilt and simultaneously increasing the tightening of the
bound as much as his strength allowed, in hopes of stopping the blood flow to
the sliced point.
The injured man howled mournfully but Bruce ignored him to finish his work,
encouraged by the lessening of the blood’s loss. He hushed the protests of the
gash in his own stomach and covered the wound on the man’s hand with the
remaining fabric, using two layers.
The thug was constantly watching him with a mix of awe, confusion and
gratitude, some tiny hope that he may live after all, flapping in his eyes. But
now the screeching sounds of the police cars’ tires signaled their arrival.
Bruce for a fraction of a second felt trapped. However, his heart was still
beating normally, allowing him to think.
He surged on the fallen torch and turned it off, sinking the entire space in
pitch black – not that it would last much since the officers would have
searchlights with them but it should be. He focused his thoughts on the
darkness that surrounded him, on the night that so many times had hugged and
covered him from his enemies. He was one with them, he was them, he wasn’t made
of matter, he was bereft of solid cells, he was invisible, one with the
shadows, soundless as the stars…
His feet barely touched the floor, his breath was held, his heartbeat to a
minimum, as he slipped to the exit the moment the police officers were already
surging to the hall, their searchlights illuminating in front of them but not
beside them.
The police cars had their headlights on towards the Dolcetto’s entrance but the
officers covering their colleagues’ lunge was the perfect camouflage for a man
of the shadows who slipped between them, blending into their shadows, letting
them feel only a breeze.
“Shit!! Call ambulances!” Bruce heard different voices from inside as he was
gaining distance fast.
“My God! That’s a slaughter!”
“Bring the First Aid Kit! Hurry! They’re still alive!”
The voices and the sirens gradually faded out till they were just a very
distant echo and Bruce sped his steps to the closest manhole. The gash in his
stomach stag aggressively as if a Pitbull had sank its two-ton strong jaws
there – good think, his clothes had absorbed the blood and he didn’t leave any
drops at the crime scene and his nose bleeding didn’t escape his face’s
prosthetics.
He shut his eyes, clutched the wound and gritted his teeth. His hand was
instantly drenched in dark red liquid. It’s nothing, he told himself; only
blood you’re losing. He heard Ra’s again.
“Flesh isn’t important; blood isn’t important; your mind is everything. As long
as you have your mind intact, you can overcome every ordeal, every pain, every
wound. Mind over matter.”
He lifted the metal grate and slithered inside, returning the grate at the
void. He ran to the spot where he knew that a burrow led to the underground
caves and dived crawling the narrow passage till it widened to reveal a huge
cavity – some bats flew surprised from his sudden intrusion. Leslie’s clinic
was near, as his first operating cave. He couldn’t return to the Manor’s cave;
he didn’t have the luxury of time and Alfred wouldn’t let him leave seeing his
wound and Clark might be still there and he… he just couldn’t afford to face
that, too.
He halted for a moment catching his breath and regaining his focus which had
been lost on thinking Clark. His hand rest on the stone wall and his other hand
clutched viciously the gash. He ordered his mind to erase Clark’s loving
beautiful eyes and to concentrate on Ra’s’ harsh persuasive voice.
He had medical supplies there to staunch the blood and a spare suit although
outdated. He quickened his pace and more bats were upset. He was close.
There… His first cave; primitive in comparison with the Manor’s cave, its floor
covered with bats’ droppings that must be flooding the space since the human
resident deserted it. On a rock, the lap top Lucius had given him still waited
for him; he spent many hours before its screen searching, when he couldn’t
leave Dolcetto to go to the place where he met Selina.
In the metallic chest hidden in the cavity that gaped behind the arch made by
two stalactites was kept his first suit. But first he had to treat his wound;
he raised his eyes at the cave’s ceiling where he knew that stood Leslie’s
clinic: if he went to the good doctor, she like Alfred wouldn’t let him leave,
insisting stubbornly that police could handle whatever emergency. He knew,
however, that they couldn’t handle Joker; he had seen the man in action – he
wasn’t a common criminal. So, he had to take care of it himself.
The First Aid Kit was stashed at the same cavity; when Lucius brought it there,
Bruce had told him that if ever came the moment he’ll need it, everything would
crumble: Ra’s, heck, even Falcone and Chill would immediately see the marks –
they were fucking him daily (that hadn’t mentioned to Lucius, although he was
sure that the man knew) and his secret, his plan would be exposed. Yet Lucius
smiled reassuringly stating calmly that some injuries or weaknesses don’t leave
a scar if treated on time. And he was referring to sudden drops of glucose
levels, which was expectable due to his exhausting way of life, hypotension
which untreated would lead to fainting, thus thwarting him from returning to
his ‘masters’, bruises which appearance could be prevented with Lucius’
wondrous substances.
Of course Lucius had in the rather big Kit other things for less than subtle
injuries – just in case. Yet his first priority was to gather with the
forensics tools the saliva and the paint Joker’s proximity had left on his
artificial face; he closed the samples in airtight packs which stashed in the
First Aid Kit. Then, he took the package with the sterile gauzes and stripped
quickly from Freddy, leaving clothes and prosthetics in a pile.
He looked at his abdomen and gritted his teeth; his firm, taut stomach carried
a wide slash throughout the organ, deep enough to let its walls hanging. It was
still bleeding – soaking Freddy’s clothes not enough. At least, the blade
didn’t sever an artery otherwise he’d be dead.
He opened the pack of a gauze and sank it to the wound to staunch the most of
the blood – he inhaled deeply; even the slightest touch was unbearable. A wave
of nausea threatened his consciousness and he sat on the chest.
The gauze became instantly drenched and he took another one from the kit to add
till the blood had subsided a bit. Then he took the bottle with the antiseptic
and poured plenty of the liquid inside, clenching his jaw to not faint –
Alfred’s presence always worked as a powerful painkiller, he thought
affectionately, and instantly berated himself because each time the good man
treated his wounds he was suffering more than him.
He inhaled deeply a few times to stabilize his heartbeat which was frantic from
the exhaustion and the new excruciating pain. Then, his right hand slightly
trembling snatched the butterfly stitches and while with his left hand kept the
edges of the wound together, applied them. It needed many stitches to be
entirely shut. Finishing he used a dressing gauze to protect the wound, though
he knew that all these was only temporary, urgent measures.
Now that the wound was dressed, it felt a bit better but the dizziness and
overall weakness insisted. He remembered that Lucius had included in the First
Aid Kit some vials with an emergency mix of substances for cases like this. He
prepared the syringe and stabbed the needle in his upper arm. Then he devoted
some minutes to relax and refocus his mind’s power on his weakened body.
“You can’t afford having limits, child. Only when you manage to fill your
body’s limits with your mind’s limitless abilities, you would be invincible…”
He stood determined. After he disposed of the used medical material and
Freddy’s clothes in the special device, he opened the chest with his first
suit. He took in his hands the cowl and brushed it with his eyes. Realizing
that precious time had passed, he began wearing the parts of his uniform,
protecting his sensitive stomach.
“Is everything alright, Mr. Wayne?” Lucius’ voice echoed to the cavity.
He was finishing his dressing, trying the suit on; it took almost three years
to assemble the suit with complete secrecy to not raise any suspicions. Bruce
was thrilled, each part perfectly fitting his body and every single muscle,
becoming one with him; the movements fluid as if he was dressed only with the
light tunics he wore during his training. He had been absorbed in trying every
martial movement he had learnt and Lucius’ voice outside the cavity woke him
up.
He wore his cowl and stepped outside the arch the stalactites made.
“I’m ready, Lucius” he said hoarse to the man’s turned back and realized that
Lucius shuddered.
He saw the usually cool eyes of his trusted friend widen upon turning to him;
however, he smiled approvingly and nodded.
“Why the odd voice?” he asked.
The black clad creature tilted its head, piercing Lucius.
“You mean why sound like the screeching sounds bats are doing?” Lucius already
understood. “Because it will be utterly ridiculous and fake if a creature of
the night, a demon-like being, a bat sounded like an ordinary man. I don’t want
them to see me like a dressed up human beating them but like a supernatural
being – I spent my entire life with their lot and I know that they are
ridiculously superstitious; and that I’ll exploit  to the limits. This time,
Lucius, I won’t be the scared one…”
Indeed, he could see Lucius stare at him awed and confused, knowing that the
being before him was the boy he knew so many years and simultaneously seeing a
stranger. He was aware of Lucius’ eyes searching and finding his sapphire-
emerald eyes to see again little Bruce. That was an issue.
“My eyes must not be visible: my worst enemies know my eyes and if someone
describe them, it’d be easy to figure me out.”
Lucius understood and nodded his agreement.
“I’ll incorporate a system which would activate and deactivate lenses in the
place of the slits” he had conjured from his pocket a small electronic notepad
not bigger than a usual mobile phone and tapped some keys. “You’ll be perfectly
able to see through the dark but your eyes won’t be visible unless you
deactivate the lenses. How exactly do you want them?”
“Very bright, white, yet giving the impression of fire.”
“Oh! I see you want them to piss themselves… Fine, I can do that. And how is
the suit?”
He pressed his lips in a tight smile.
“Perfect. You’re a genius, Lucius. Perfect suiting with my body, perfect
agility, heavy but flexible as if wearing gym pants. Falcone doesn’t know
anything about these?”
Lucius laughed.
“Mr. Wayne, I don’t waste my creativity for someone like the current President
of the Enterprises – not that he ever cared about my expertise or activities,
which I’m grateful for. Now, ask me everything you want and make suggestions.”
Like when Tony and he went to Lucius’ laboratory and the man patiently
explained everything and asked them to express their ideas.
“Bullet and knife resistance?” being in the bat attire urged him to be laconic.
“Ten times the resistance of the most endurable known bullet-proof vest” his
face sobered a bit. “The flexibility that you praised, however, leaves small
areas vulnerable: they have still the protection of the suit’s sub-level but
it’s considerably lower than the rest parts.”
Bruce nodded unfazed.
“I’ll be cautious. Now, Lucius, I want security for the cowl. I don’t want my
cowl being removed if anything goes awry.”
Lucius nodded and scribed at the pad.
“Any suggestions?” not that the intelligent man didn’t have ideas but Bruce
knew that Lucius wanted to give him the opportunity to exercise his creative
mind.
“Fingerprints’ recognition system? Can you do that?”
He smiled confidently.
“Of course. And of course we want it to recognize your fingerprints through the
material of the gloves, right?”
“You read my mind, Lucius.”
“And I read also that you wonder if I managed to make you able to fly…”
Bruce looked him intrigued and Lucius smiled. He walked to the flat rock where
he had set his briefcase, gesturing to him to follow. He opened the briefcase
and Bruce saw a black folded fabric which resembled velvet. He unfolded the
fabric that was as big as a long cape and flapped it to the air, making it
rigid under Bruce’s impressed eyes.
The inventor explained to him how easily that miraculous fabric worked, giving
him the ability to ‘fly’. Then, Lucius took the upper edges of the cape and
approaching Bruce, fastened the cape on the special hooks on his shoulders
which instantly were sunk into the Kevlar engraving the fabric to his suit.
Jumping from a building and stretching his arms in flying mode the fabric would
attach to his arms and taut like true wings.
“Now, you’re a true Bat-man, Mr. Wayne” Lucius solemn voice reassured him.
And Bruce heard him once again before pulling down his cowl and activating the
lenses, leaving behind any awareness of pain and weakness. Time for the Joker
to meet the Batman.
 
Jim Gordon was feeling the walls of his rather small office at MCU shrinking
around him as the night had established itself on Gotham, thousands artificial
lights invading his office through the small window making the grim city
strangely beautiful.
He should have been out there, in the streets, patrolling the city and
protecting the citizens from old and new threats. But as the Police
Commissionaire, even temporary, he had too many administrative and commanding
duties demanding to be in a central spot, as the current phone call proved.
“In Dolcetto?” disbelief was evident in his voice; how many more blows Wayne
must receive. “Are you sure it was the Joker again? How many casualties? Ah!
They’re still alive?”
At last good news – if they make it, they could give them some information.
“Did you find out who raised the alarm?”
No, of course not. He rubbed the spot where his eyebrows met. Gotham is the
city of ghosts, after all.
“One of the thugs had received first aids? I want forensics to comb the place
for any trace Joker left and for identifying who else was there…” and saved
those men’s lives. “Put guards on Gotham General and outside the victims’ rooms
– Joker might want to finish the job.”
He hung up and detached his glasses, letting them on the metallic cheap desk,
to rub his red eyes. He felt tired but he hoped that, at least, it was
worthwhile: he had enhanced the number of patrolling cars and officers in the
neighborhoods and the guard on the public places of the city. He didn’t want to
raise more panic but he wanted to make the people feel secure. Everyone in MCU
and in GCPD was in red alert for any sign of danger.
He hoped that Wayne Enterprises had tightened the security around their
President, too. Stubborn boy! Maybe if he could speak with Batman to persuade
him to keep an eye on Wayne…
Someone knocked on his door and he saw through the blinds his secretary,
Officer Jean.
“Come in.”
“Mr. Fury wants to see you.”
He knew the name; it was what his day lacked… He put back his glasses and told
her to bring him in.
The man entered his office with confident strides. He was dressed in a nice
black suit that cried that it didn’t suit his personality. He was smiling
benign and although it reached his eye, Jim wasn’t fooled and wondered what
this man wanted.
Jim stretched his hand for handshake and Fury took it gladly.
“Nicholas Joseph Fury” the man introduced himself.
Jim nodded.
“I know your name… Please, have a seat’” he sat on his chair after Fury did the
same. “May I offer you something?”
Fury intertwined his fingers in front of his face. He shook his head in
negation.
“I want to thank you for granding me some of your precious time, especially at
a time like this…”
Jim leaned on the desk.
“What is it exactly that you want, Mr. Fury? Or should I say ‘agent Fury’?”
Fury tilted his head and smiled broadly.
“You’re right, Commissionaire: to the point; your time is precious.”
A little bit of honesty and a little bit of irony as Fury’s eyebrow rose.
“The organization I represent and I, need your assistance” now was Jim’s turn
to lift his eyebrow in disbelief. “Do you know what S.H.I.E.L.D. is?”
Jim was known for his calm and stoicism.
“I don’t know many things, yet what I know is enough to doubt my usefulness to
your activities” he didn’t want any dealing with these people; he had a city
full of problems to be solved.
Fury’s face tightened and leaned towards Jim.
“I sense unwillingness…” he said serious, his eye piercing Jim’s nonchalant
eyes.
“Get to the point, Agent Fury: I have a city in distress to protect and THERE”
he underlined his words “is where my duties and loyalties lie.”
Not with S.H.I.E.L.D. Fury heard the unsaid. To the point, then.
“What do you know about the vigilante called Batman?” he said in business mode.
Jim smiled, bitterly amused from the absurdity of the situation. His city
needed Batman and that man just came to recruit him or arrest him: it was their
tactic; eliminating whatever they couldn’t control.
“What’s so funny, Commissionaire?” Fury asked following the mood.
“That Gotham is in danger and you came to occupy my time, asking questions
about ghosts.”
Fury’s eyebrows blew to his bold scalp.
“Batman a ghost?” he laughed dryly. “Really, Commissionaire… You want me to
believe that your life was saved by… a ghost?” his eye shone in a way that
yelled ‘I’m not stupid’. “That you were working underground all these years
against Falcone WITH A GHOST? How you and your loyal police officers were there
to help FBI the night that Falcone was arrested? Who organized that complex,
perfectly organized operation and informed you to be ready?”
Now Jim was angry with the man’s tone and posturing.
“Are you interrogating me, Agent Fury?” he frowned but kept his cool voice.
“Then I should remind you that you have no power over me or any jurisdiction
that would oblige me to answer your questions. I’m not one of your superheroes”
Fury’s face lost something of its arrogance. “I gave my report and answered to
my superiors and you’re not one of them.”
He stood definitely.
“Now, if you don’t mind” he said it so indifferently that stated that he didn’t
give a damn if Fury minded, “I have to hunt a very real homicidal maniac. And I
imagine that you’ll want to hunt your ghost…”
Fury stood as well, scowling at Gordon, nothing left from his initial
benevolence. The cop was mocking him as if he was a school kid, not a decorated
veteran, director of one of the most powerful organizations.
“If Batman is a ghost and you didn’t have any contact with him, then why the
spotlight with the bat signal stays on the roof of the MCU?”
Fury’s only eye glistened victorious. But Jim stayed completely unfazed.
“The criminals of Gotham” he gestured to him “believe in ghosts like you and
are scared of them, so I don’t intend on ruining the effect of the myth. Now,
if you’ll excuse me…”
He passed him and moved towards his office’s door. But Fury didn’t follow just
continued studying him with his narrowed eye.
“But Bruce Wayne isn’t a ghost…” he dragged slyly his words, lifting his
eyebrow, satisfied that the tough cop stopped abruptly and turned slowly to
him.
Jim’s eyes were squinting.
“What’s your interest in him?”
Fury’s self confidence returned and along his lopsided smile seeing Jim’s
reaction. He approached with slow strides the shorter man who was scowling.
“When you found him that night after Falcone used him as a hostage, he stated
that it was Batman who saved him” his pearl white teeth smiled at Jim. “So
there’s someone in Gotham that doesn’t consider Batman a ghost; maybe the young
Wayne can help my quest…”
Jim didn’t like it. Fury and the S.H.I.E.L.D. mentioning Bruce Wayne was bad;
Jim knew that their purposes weren’t simply asking him about Batman: nothing
this kind of people does is simple.
“Your almighty” he said with sarcasm “organization wants to harass a man so
cruelly tested in his life?” his lower lip protrude in disgust. “I thought that
you fought evil? I warn you: if you press Mr. Wayne, I’ll kick you and every
other of your kind from my city.”
Fury’s face once again was completely serious; his eye regarding Gordon with
real respect.
“Admirable protectiveness!”
“Just sticking to the law.”
He opened the door and gestured to the agent to step out, only to see Harvey
Dent marching to his office.
Fury halted before the DA and Harvey looked him confused but frowned.
“Nice seeing you, Mr. Dent, I’ll come visit you one of these days…”
Harvey brought his hands on his waist and tilted his head, focusing his eyes on
Fury’s face.
“That sounded like a threat, or was just my impression? Mister…?’’
Fury smiled.
“No, no threat. And it’s Nick Fury.”
Harvey nodded and Fury understood that he had already heard his name.
“Call my secretary to fix you an appointment” he said dismissively and
continued his course to Gordon’s office.
Fury shook his head amused and left the foyer. That city!
Jim closed the door after Harvey entered the office.
“Fury and his gang is what we needed right now…” the young lawyer muttered
turning his head to Jim that moved towards him.
“You know him?”
Harvey laughed, his hands still grabbing his waist.
“I wouldn’t have known my job, if I didn’t know him… What did he want?”
Jim tilted his head both ways.
“What else?” he shrugged. “Our local superhero…”
“I doubt that Batman wants to be called ‘superhero’ or work for S.H.I.E.L.D.…
or for anyone else…”
Jim nodded.
“You came for the incident at Dolcetto?” they had set up a hot line of
exchanging information with the DA.
“Not only for that, but based on that, I think that we can’t wait for Wayne’s
consent about his detail.”
Jim regarded him with a slight frown and Harvey didn’t wait his question.
“People in my father’s country say that the end justifies the means and in this
case, Wayne’s protection is the end” he winked.
“People in your father’s country are pragmatic…”
“Sometimes… Well, I thought putting a detail without Wayne knowing it…” his
eyes shone wickedly. “So he won’t be upset and we won’t have to worry all the
time.”
Jim tilted his head.
“Is it legal? Moral?”
“Is not illegal and is pragmatic. So can you…”
Jim raised his eyes to see Harvey in the eye.
“I’ve already put five officers to guard secretly Bruce Wayne” he said and
Harvey detected some regret that he didn’t respect Bruce’s wish. “Bruce Wayne
left Wayne Tower with his car and now is safe at his Manor.”
Harvey nodded, smiling. He could understand Jim’s regret, though. He didn’t
feel entirely at ease, either.
“It’s the right thing, Jim” he patted the man’s slumbered shoulder. “And to the
other purpose of my visit: I want to meet Batman.”
Jim opened his mouth to say something.
“Com’ on, Jim, he worked with me, too, albeit not directly; he trusts me.”
“Then you should wait for him to come to you: he isn’t someone to be forced to
do anything.”
“I can’t afford to wait.”
Jim shook his head, his tired eyes searching Harvey’s eager face.
“I believe you should trust his judgment” he replied matter-of-factly.
“Meanwhile it’s more urgent you prepare for thwarting S.H.I.E.L.D. from
tormenting Wayne.”
“What?” Harvey’s eyes were filled with disbelief and annoyance.
“Fury claims that he wants to ask him about his encounter with Batman but I’m
not convinced. I guess they were sweetened from Stark’s money and now they want
to wrap Wayne, too.”
Harvey nodded deep in thought; if he ever thought that Falcone’s downfall would
make things easier for Gotham, he was a fool.
***** Chapter 22 *****
“The Prince(deletion)Plague of Gotham, by Adam Bert”the nasal, falsely solemn
and pompous voice of Joker echoed in the vast luxurious living room of Adam
Bert’s condo.
The owner of the apartment was held on his knees by Joker’s clown thugs, his
hands bound with handcuffs behind his back and his ankles tied with thick rope.
His right eye was black and his eyebrow bled but sweat was more evident in his
stretched by the gag face. His eyes watching with disbelief that competed with
his ultimate terror Joker repositioning graciously and sniffing at the… sofa
his ancient looking lorgnette to continue reading after sipping some water.
He had bought that ridiculously expensive condo in one of Gotham’s most
fashionable buildings with Falcone’s generous payment for his services. He had
bought also two villas at Miami and Hawaii and he had built a very satisfying
bank account for his retirement. Yet that apartment was his favorite. Till now.
Because now he was surrounded by clowns bearing the faces of Disney cartoons,
pointing rifles at him from their positions around the space, forced to watch
on his knees that crazy butcher reciting his article like pressing charges
against him… For a death penalty. He knew that he was a dead man, like his
former boss; his felony that dared to belittle that brat Wayne.
His heartbeat was so frantic that he could barely hear Joker’s authoritative
voice, jeering him.
“Once upon a time in a city called Gotham a beautiful Prince was born. His
birth increased his parents’ arrogance, who were always boosting themselves as
the saviors of people, their baby Prince now their mascot. But gods punished
their arrogance, snatching their fortune and leading them to death. The little
Prince was to die too but his charms bent his killer’s hand and kept him alive.
The almost murderers of the boy kept him alive and took care of him; they
raised him. Why? The boy was endowed not only with outstanding beauty but also
cunning mind; he realized too soon his beauty’s power over people and used it
to indulge his owners to keep him alive and feed him. The former Prince knew
that only if he”Joker coughed dryly and raised his voice, pointing each letter
separately “W-H-O-R-E-Dhimself to his parents’ killer, only if he P-R-O-V-O-K-
E-D Falcone and F-L-A-R-E-D the man’s desires, would be safe and able to
destroy him to take back his throne. He didn’t hesitate to G-I-F-T his body to
save his life and achieve his goals – obviously, living as a W-H-O-R-E wasn’t a
problem for the last Wayne. And even after his owner’s tragic demise, as an
advertised object of passion he drew the attention of aspiring ‘lovers’ – after
all, such beauty can’t stay without an owner for long. You see, the young Wayne
carries misfortune with him not so much for himself because, despite the fact
many of his loved ones or his past lovers ended up dead or close, he is alive
and kicking, reveling the fortune that others copiously built. And now innocent
people are killed for his sake, for his admittedly H-O-T    B-O-D-Y, for his S-
W-E-E-T  L-I-T-T-L-E ( M-A-Y-B-E  N-O-T  S-O  L-I-T-T-L-E)   S-P-O-T… Even a
common whore in such a situation would give herself to save other people, so
why Mr. Wayne, who used his charms to save himself, not repeating his
successful tactic to save the city he claims that loves so much? After all,
innocent people are tortured and killed for his eyes… and P-A-R-T-S  O-F  H-I-
S  B-O-D-Y   L-O-C-A-T-E-D  L-O-W-E-R, and being a  W-H-O-R-E isn’t exactly a
sacrifice for him.”
Joker took a deep breath pretending exhaustion and threw his obsolete glasses
to one of his clowns to catch.
Listening Joker reading his article, Bert’s sweat became a river drenching his
clothes and his heart was making his body shake uncontrollably; his guards
tightening their grips to hold him still. His eyes were teary; only a couple of
minutes ago he was jubilant, his article being an explosive success: the
newspaper’s edition selling a record number of items and the electronic version
of the article reaching already a couple of millions hits and a crazy number of
Likes/Dislikes, the second way more than the first.
However, that didn’t count, as the outraged comments of citizens or Lois Lane
characterizing it ‘sewage’ or Wayne Enterprises’ lawsuit against him and the
newspaper. His name on the limelight was intoxicating. As intoxicating was the
image of the Wayne brat cowering under his fluffy blankets and crying because
of what he wrote – oh! He had wanted to get him for losing his generous
employer because of him… So much that he didn’t consider the wrath of the clown
or better underestimated the danger, since he lived in one of the safest
buildings in the city – or that was what the advertisement had said…
He had been celebrating his and the newspaper’s success at the office and he
was lightheaded, still whistling the last song from the small party, when
shoved his card-key in the lock. Everything happened so fast that he didn’t
understand how he was found inside his living room with a black eye, some
bruised ribs, bound and gagged, staring at the madman terrorizing Gotham –
things were so much better when Falcone ruled the city…
“Youuuuu” the clown’s leather clad hand cupped his trembling jaw and yanked his
head, his mad eyes impaling his wet eyes “called MY boy a WHORE!” he cried the
word. “Aaaand I know that goooood ol’ Falcone used him liiiiike that, but it
was RAPE, you BASTARD! Do you know what RAPE is?!” he yelled infuriated but
then shook his head in negation and looked the journalist lopsided. “Of –
course you don’t know anddddd you don’t care, riiiiight?” he lowered his voice
and spoke condescending, pulling down Bert’s head in a nod.
He dropped almost gently the man’s head and strode to the living room, tilting
his head to the right his eyes gazing at the Gotham’s skyline through the arch
shaped huge window. He brought his hands behind his back.
“The thing is, Berty-boy, that this broken piece of gorgeous flesh is MINE to
shatter and reforge” his voice was eerily calm and serious. “He and his past,
present and future belong to ME!” he fisted his hand in the air, grinding his
teeth. “Aaaand no-body has the right to upset MY sweet baby, MY project: his
sani-ty is MINE to devastate. Do-you-under-stand – that?” he turned rapidly his
head towards the rasping journalist. “With that grub-by piece” he conjured a
bare blade and launched it to pin the paper with Bert’s article to the
invaluable rose-wood table “youuuuuuu dis-stressed MY Bru-cey, youuuuuu made
him call me a cri-minal – Oh!” his angry, crazy eyes became affectionate in an
instant and Bert lifted a sweaty eyebrow “he was sooooooo adorable pretending
the brave anddddd trying to hi-de his terror with anger… Uuuuuuh! I LO-VE that
pink color on his high cheekbones… As a matter of fact” he continued
thoughtfully putting his index finger on his lower lip “I don’t want him to be
scared of me – oooor maybe I doooo – oh! It’s toooo complex!” he waved his hand
in the air dismissively.
And the same second he was on Bert gripping his lapels and lifting him to the
air effortlessly despite Bert’s obesity.
“I.WARNED! Youuuu people! I-warned- you” he said singsong “to not get between
Bru-cey and MEEEEE! I punished Falcone for keeping MY boy for sooooo many-many
years aaaaand trying to destroy his beautiful mind before ME. Buuut youuuuu
simply DON’T WANT TO LISTEN!” he was yelling an inch from Bert’s face, who had
shut his eyes and was crying silently behind the gag.
Joker threw him back to his thugs – the Goofy and Donald masks they wore,
making the scene completely surrealistic. Their leader tilted his head,
scrutinizing the crying man.
“Tears won’t save youuuuu, as they didn’t save Brucey – maybe now youuuu’ll
understand… Along with the rest of Go-tham, when they see you burning alive in
your living room…”
Bert began convulsing in his captors’ iron clutches, shaking desperately his
head in negation, almost gulping the red plastic gag in his effort to cry his
apology, his begging. But Joker surged on him and grinding his teeth slapped
him in the face twice, stopping his pointless efforts. He brushed the purple
leather and turned his completely calm face to his goon who was holding a
plastic bag.
“Get the camera rooool-ling” he spit on his fingers and straightened his wild
locks. “Helloooooo, Goooootham!”
“Boss, the camera isn’t ready” the goon muttered stupidly.
Joker rolled his eyes.
“I know, you mmmmmoron! It’s a test: you made Berty-boy piss himself before the
time – AMATEUUUUURS!”
Suddenly, the room emerged in complete darkness and Joker sighed frustrated.
“YOU MORON! You produced a short in the system! I’ll cut it from your sala-ry!”
“But… you-you ain’t giving me a sala-ry, boss…”
“You’re right…’’ he produced a blade out of thin air and he was ready to send
it right to the goon, remembering his position, when something really powerful
snatched his wrist and squashed it till the blade fell silently on the thick
carpet.
Joker opened his mouth to say something but a punch sent him flying to the
wall.
“WOW!” Joker exclaimed awed from the corner he slumped, caressing his mouth.
Although the room was in complete darkness, Bert still shaking but a bit
encouraged by the fact that the goons who held him had vanished, was able to
hear the clear sound of punches, blows, surprised yells of pain and bodies
crushing to the floor. All these under a sweet hissing sound like a giant snake
slithering in the air and two nightmarish eye-shaped flames, surging against
the bad guys. His heart was beating frantic again but from relief. It was
Batman! He felt a jolt and his body being heaved rapidly in a blur of black and
all of a sudden he was lying at the corridor outside his apartment, away from
the danger.
“IIIIII want to seeeeeee that show, Baaaaa-tsy!” Joker said lilting and
conjured a tiny flashlight from his pocket, but a kick on the hand sent the
object away. “Party pooper!”
The lights burst out and Joker regarded the space; there was no trace of fight
although his clowns were in a pile unconscious and bound. He shook his head
disappointed; a fight with these cretins? No way…
He jumped to his feet, half smirking, scanning the place with his fevered eyes.
“Com’ to papa, baaaby! Dooooon’t be shhhyyy! Doooon’t tell me you’re afraid…”
A shadow detached slowly from the apartment’s dark corridor and walked
imposingly towards him. All gracious and powerful, his statuesque posture proud
and impressively sculpted, the cape flapping gently from the void his diamond
blade had cut to the corridor's window of  to get inside. His lenses were
glowing reflecting the glare of his true eyes and his lips were in a tight but
calm line.
Joker’s smirk became a full smile and then an annoying giggle. Batman didn’t
move nor spoke.
“Youuuu’re absolutely daaaashing; those describing you areeeee minimize youuuur
virtues, darling – let me give you a piece of advice” he said as if talking to
his pal “change your agent ooooor kill the witnesses: then eeeeeeveryone” he
made a huge circle with his hand “will know how miiiiiighty you are…”
Batman scowled at him and Joker shook his head.
“You didn’t like that… A shame, really… Anyway, can I haaaaave an autograph?”
he pouted and scratched his head. “Mmmmm… I don’t have a paper with me, sooooo:
can you sign on my broad chest ooooor better my juicy butttttttttocks?
HAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh! I’d like to see your eyes nowwwwwww! UHUHUHUHUHU!”
He caught only a glimpse of a black wave and he was lifted in the air, two iron
hands clutching his lapels.
“Pppplease, be careful with the lapels; the jacket iiiiis raaaaaather
expensive! Phiew! Ooooookay” he nodded “I gaaaaather that you’re mad – don’t
take personal the mad; look! I’m mad, too!!! What I was saying? Ah! You’re mad
for that family and maybe Falcone aaaaaaand for those candies I stole buuuuuuut
MY butttttocks are really good! Not as goooood as Bru-cey’s that are…” he began
making describing moves with his hands, licking his lips “buuuuuuuut compared
with yours… Oh, man! Your ass must be ugly to hide it with that cape” the tight
stoic mouth before him didn’t change. “Ooookay, maybe your ass isn’t sooooo
bad” he tilted his head. “Can I have a look?”
Bruce felt his blood boiling: that man had killed four people, among them a kid
who he had tortured, wounded three more and almost killed another one, and now
he was jeering and mocking him. And all these to not notice him slipping his
hand in the place where he had one of his blades. He punched him in the jaw and
the blade fled his fingers, the clown colliding violently to the wall, but the
jester instead of moaning in pain giggled uncontrollably. He shook his index
finger to Batman, pursing his lips.
“Oooooh! You aren’t fooled, eh?! You know, I always wanted a bat for pet – you
know: to name him George, and hug him and pet him and pat him and rub him and
squeeze him… Aaaaaaand” he blinked “from what I seeeeeee, that was your un-
realized dream toooooo. Pooooor thing!”
Bruce’s head was already throbbing by the blood loss and this unstoppable
jabber was increasing the blows’ strength inside his scalp. He surged on him
and saw the clown preparing to take a blow but instead he found his wrists
trapped in handcuffs in a second.
“Eeeeeeeeh! What’re youuuuu doooo-ing?”
But the clown didn’t stay still, launched his leg to a back kick, aiming at
Batman’s stomach, a blade protruding from his heel. The black armored man
cringed at the contact before resuming handcuffing him, andf Joker knew that
the blade didn’t penetrate the material to tear the flesh,  he felt intrigued;
a wound there, then?
“Preparing you for the police – in jail you can have the pet you always
dreamt!” he growled, pulling out his dangerous shoes and stepping away from
him.
“UHUHUHUHU! Thaaaat was a good one! Tall, dark, with humor although rare,
thrilling voice aaaand handsome (?) – remains to be seen, not that is im-
portant: youuuuuu can keeeep your cowllll on…” he finished singing the infamous
song and Batman tilted his head to scowl at him, Joker shaking his head. “I
know, I know there’s MY baby aaaaand I don’t want to cheat on him before the
marriage, soooooooo… What’s your opinion about threesomes????” his giggles were
even louder than before and Batman had more important things to do; also, his
wound was stinging menacingly from Joker’s kick.
Police sirens flooded the street under them, halting abruptly in front of the
skyscraper and Batman pressed the button that opened the arch shaped window. He
jumped lightly on the window sill and Joker watched impressed the grace of that
movement, trying to see under the cape, and then the dive of the dark being who
vanished in the night just when police officers raided the apartment, guns on
the ready.
“Your hands in the air!” a young cop ordered him sternly.
Joker smirked and rolled his eyes, stretching his bound behind the back hands.
“You’re kidding me?”
 
Talia crossed barefooted with slow, soundless steps the dimly lit main hall of
the old temple. Although it was near midday in Tibet and the snow covering the
peak of the mountain made the sunlight blinding inside the old temple only the
trembling light of a few obsolete torches on the walls brushed the bare space
that was adorned only with a few old worshiping objects.
She didn’t need light to find her way; she knew this place from her childhood:
her father and his most trusted men training her to perfection. Yet every time
she entered that hall, the scents of the worshiping ethereal, the flowers burnt
slowly in the alters and the animal grease keeping alight the fires
illuminating the darkness, captivated her and brought memories.
“You’re here but your mind stayed in Gotham…” she hissed to her father as she
managed to unbalance him with a quick attack on the roof of the old temple.
He laughed with his loud laugh and she thought that it echoed to the vastness
of the breathtaking, peaceful scenery of Himalayas.
“You’re jealous of him, my heiress” he smirked and attacked swiftly making her
lose her balance for a second.
Talia dressed exactly as a common student gritted her teeth and regained her
footing on the screeching old tiles.
“He betrayed you” her eyes flared up only mentioning him “he tried to run away,
he believed that he could fool you, like the last moronic thug and not only you
didn’t kill him for that but also you forgave him” she pierced him with her
blades of eyes and Ra’s blocked her fierce sword with his, smirking arrogantly.
“And you’re still fucking him every day, laying your neck for him to slice it!”
Talia disentangled her sword with a maniac shine in her black eyes and
descended it to her father’s neck for emphasis, but he made an almost invisible
roll, avoiding her glistening at the blinding sun blade, and with a chokehold
immobilized her, his own blade above her chest. She was enraged that she was
cornered.
“He is 20 years old, damn it! Six years of fucking him should have made you
bored of him!”
“Anger is a bad ally in combat, heiress” he said sarcastic.
She wrapped her legs around her father’s like snakes and her hand pinched Ra’s’
kidney, making him inhale in surprise. Talia smiled evilly and feeling his hold
loosening a bit tried to overthrow him, but he twisted his legs taking hers
along and both of them began rolling to the steep roof until they landed on the
fluffy cushion the thick snow made. She forced her legs to stand but her
father’s blade pointed her neck; her eyes were filled with hateful defiance.
Ra’s offered her his hand and helped her stand smiling affectionately.
“You’re getting better and better, child.”
“Don’t call me ‘child’; you call your whore that way!” she snapped, slapping
his offered hand and crossing her hands on her chest.
Ra’s sighed and turned her his back, gazing at the magnificence of the wild
landscape.
“You said that I should have been fed up with him: I’m not. I forged him, I
raised him, I see his beauty and the defiance, the hopeless anger, and my
passion is ignited. I know his body from when he was a skinny, desperate child
the signs of years of abuse evident and this body is mine and will be eternally
mine. You said that I didn’t punish him; I did in more than one way: physically
and emotionally – I crushed his arrogance, his hope, using the most efficient
way: his loved ones. He’ll never defy me again and taking him daily not only
quenches my lust but also re-establishes my absolute rule on him. You blame me
because I didn’t kill him for his insult” his lion-like head turned to her, his
proud eyes glistening wisely. “You don’t give up on an investment of years,
especially when your investment is special – and Bruce is special, not only
because I gave him unique abilities but also because he is extraordinary. If
Falcone hadn’t killed his parents, I’d have done it myself to get him…”
Then, she didn’t give much attention to her father’s words, she was too jealous
of Bruce and too angry with Ra’s Al Ghul, but now, after what happened with
Superman, his words were constantly in her mind, forming her theory. Still she
needed that theory and her obsession to regain her family’s property affirmed.
That was the reason she took her jet and came to Tibet to meet the man that now
stood before her.
He stayed exactly as she remembered him during her last training session
fifteen years ago. Tall as a flesh mountain, dressed in the traditional orange
robes of the Buddhist monks, though she knew that he wasn’t one. His head was
bald as always, his bright black eyes giving him a wise look emanating
authority and respect.
Talia glued her palms’ insides together erect and brought them before her
chest, bowing slightly her head. He saluted her the same way.
“I sense your spirit in distress, mistress” he said showing her to the cushions
in front of the huge window at the end of the hall.
“I need answers, Ubu” she said without delay.
The man looked her with the stare that made her feel x-rayed when she was his
student. But she could detect a flicker of fear and hesitation, evoked by him
knowing already her purpose.
“It’s about the child Ra’s Al Ghul possessed…” it wasn’t a question.
“Exactly, master Ubu. I need to know everything about him, about his training,
about what my father made to him!” her eagerness increased her accent.
Ubu raised his wise eyes and then cast them to the breath taking landscape.
“I cannot give you answers…” he answered calmly but definitely.
Talia was so infuriated that stood, staring at Ubu from above.
“Yes, you can!” she almost yelled like a spoiled brat and Ubu’s wise eyes
pierced her. “You went to Gotham twelve years ago, exactly when my father took
in that stray; you stayed there ten years and you returned here two years
before that warm killed my father.”
Ubu’s eyes gazed again the tranquil nature.
“I warned your father to let the boy leave, but he didn’t listen to me. His
lust, arrogance and ambition obsessed him, as was expected…” his voice was
steady yet Talia could sense sadness.
She sat again at the cushions and chased the man’s eyes.
“He had a plan, a great plan involving him, right? A plan that he was preparing
for years and you were helping him with that…” her eyes glistened as the
greediness in her voice.
Ubu turned his eyes to her.
“I can’t tell you his secrets.”
“I am his daughter, his heiress, your new mistress: you’re obliged to tell me –
he’d want you to tell me.”
The man stared at her eyes and blinked slowly.
“Mistress Talia, forget that man; your father made monstrous things to him and
he was punished for that.”
Talia felt her blood boil hearing that her father was punished.
“I know that my father was fucking him from when he was still a child but he
saved him so he owned him” Ubu’s almost always emotionless face manifested a
raised eyebrow. “My father wasn’t punished; was betrayed by an ungrateful
maggot and this betrayal will be avenged. I’ll take him back and fulfill my
father’s plan.”
Seeing that he had no intention on continuing the discussion, she decided to
open her cards. She inhaled deeply.
“I know that my father used your knowledge to do something to the boy in order
to achieve something concerning Superman. I just need you to tell me the truth
as you always did.”
She took hold of his broad shoulders and shook him, her blazing eyes on his.
“Ubu!” her voice was cold and warning. “I need to know, I must know! Your
loyalties lie with Ra’s Al Ghul and I’m his daughter, his successor, his
heiress – you can’t hide things from me!”
Ubu’s eyes were emotionless as if she wasn’t even there. He stayed silent for a
minute, Talia thinking that he emerged himself to nirvana to dismiss her. But
then all of a sudden, he opened his mouth.
“Your father wanted to make Gotham the ultimate example of fierce justice; he
wanted the city to grow in corruption, hedonism and crime to the point of being
Revelation’s Babylon. For that reason he gave his support to Falcone in order
to let the city rot and… gain access to the child. He wanted to use sin’s most
famous victim in the city to his revenge: the boy had been declared dead so his
‘resurrection’ to avenge his and his parents’ murders by leading the city’s
catharsis and executing their murderer would make a shocking impression; he
meant the child to be his avenging angel.”
Talia nodded, never leaving her former teacher’s eyes from hers. He knew that
already.
“However, Ra’s had recently took notice of a young man who was able to fly, run
in incredible speed, stop trains with his bare hands, melt iron with his eyes
and be impenetrable by bullets. He’d seen him in Metropolis fighting crime and
all around the world helping people in danger. He had a ‘S’ emblem in his chest
and people called him Superman, yet Ra’s was sure that this presence was
anything but a man – he was an alien who although claimed that loved humans,
with his actions was an obstacle to true justice – because your father believed
that true justice has nothing to do with forgiveness and benevolence to
justice’s enemies. Also, he was positive that Superman wasn’t the only one of
his kind – his battle with three of his kind the proof - and that he was just
pretending humanity’s friend only to enslave us when the time comes. Either way
Ra’s’ plan for Gotham could be upturned by this being’s interference; Superman
wouldn’t let a slaughter happen otherwise his savior icon would be ruined.”
Talia felt impatient to ask yet her father had taught her to wait.
“So Ra’s watched patiently and using his endless connections found the only
human who knew the most crucial thing about Superman: how to defeat him.”
“Lex Luthor” she added and Ubu nodded.
“Ra’s set up an alliance with Luthor seemingly about reselling Luthor’s weapons
to various outlaw or terrorist groups and offering him support in his dark
activities. But never did Ra’s reveal to Luthor his interest about Superman,
not even when he indifferently heard about the little rock that could bend the
giant. Still knowing about the Kryptonite’s destructive power wasn’t enough for
your father: he wanted to be sure that he would be ready to destroy Superman
when he’d face him; he wanted something even stronger than Kryptonite…”
He regarded Talia’s greedy eyes.
“He had already gotten access to the boy and gained his trust” he smiled
faintly “the boy really didn’t have a choice but to trust the first man showing
him a speck of kindness. He already meant to train the boy as an assassin but
having the last Wayne in his disposal – the remnant of the most infamous tragic
story – sparked in him the idea that would lead to Superman’s downfall. He
would ready the boy and then would fool Falcone into spreading the rumor that
he had Bruce Wayne alive as his slave; he was sure that Superman – either from
true kindness or to manifest once again his goodness to humans – would be lured
to the boy to find out if he was indeed the surviving victim and save him from
Falcone’s brutality. He had the perfect bait to attract him; a gorgeous young
man with sapphire - emerald eyes and his tragic story.”
Talia this time couldn’t restrain her reaction.
“How making Superman interested in Wayne would render him vulnerable? I mean
besides the obvious. That’s what I need to know; what he did.”
Ubu stopped once again for a minute and inhaled deeply.
“Your father used his and my knowledge of natural – and not so natural –
substances to create a brew” Talia’s eyes widened. “That brew was being
administered to the child from the first months Ra’s was entrusted with him,
when he was fourteen years old, till two years before your father’s death.”
“That is ten years…”
He nodded calmly.
“Daily for ten years the brew was applied to the boy’s body – every inch of it…
The oil was instantly absorbed from his every cell” she nodded, urging him to
continue. “Becoming one with them and gradually affecting the cells’ memory
into producing the substance themselves.”
“Father mutated him?” she asked both fascinated and doubtful.
“Something like this. Even after the brew’s appliance stopped, the effects of
the substance will continue to manifest due to Wayne’s body’s functioning – the
production of the substance is natural to him as his respiration or heart
beating.”
“That’s…”
“Evil” he exclaimed disgusted.
“Ingenious!” she remarked and Ubu regarded her disapprovingly. “What are the
effects?”
Ubu lifted an eyebrow.
“You don’t know?”
“I want to hear it from its creator.”
The man closed his eyes and turned his head towards the open window.
“Weakens Superman’s cells and increases the radiance and thus the power of
Kryptonite, even more the special variety’s you now have in your hands. The
brew included the black mineral that veins the Kryptonite. Every time he comes
close to Wayne the effect multiplies and remains unchanged to be increased when
they meet again.”
“How it's sure that Superman will continue to come to him when the effects
become so strong to be noticed?”
Ubu still didn’t open his eyes.
“He’ll return even if he knows that it is sure death; the substance is highly
addictive: he’ll be in worse agony if he doesn’t see him again. Your father
made Superman’s downfall certain.”
Talia furrowed her eyebrows.
“But Wayne betrayed him; why he continued the plan using him, when he could use
someone more trustworthy?”
 “The project had progressed too much to be abandoned and he wanted to punish
him and make his submission definite. He knew that if the boy still tried to
defy him, succumbing truly to Superman’s affection, in the end he would be
heartbroken and devastated, realizing that what he thought as true love was
only the effect of substances and that he had caused his lover’s demise.” His
voice was sad. “Thus, your father believed that the boy would submit to him
forever, his hopes dead along with his lover.”
“How he knew the substance’s effectiveness?” she asked untouched.
Ubu opened his eyes which traveled away, ahead of the mountains.
“Oh! He knew… Luthor had already gathered Superman’s DNA and was trying to
create clones: your father acquired samples and tested the reaction of
Superman’s cells to the boy’s drenched in the brew cells. His resources were
very reliable.”
“You one of them.”
He smiled bitterly and nodded.
“I gave him an ancient recipe of a potion causing love and weakness to one’s
lover and then we adjusted it to the alien’s physiology but the key ingredient
was the black mineral.”
“And if Bruce dies?”
“You plan to kill him?”
“Of course not, I want him for myself yet I want to know my options if things
won’t go as I want.”
“Superman would lose what considers his mate; it’ll be agony and pain,
emotionally and bodily. The weakness will stay but won’t worsen, so Superman
will live albeit his pain and desire for the substance or his late mate will
make him vulnerable to his enemies.”
After all this new information, Talia admired even more her father, for his
brilliance and strategic genius, despite the annoying regret that colored Ubu’s
voice.
“Where was his certainty based that Superman would be infatuated with Wayne ?
He considered him special – sure, he was fucking the child unable to control
himself – but your opinion was what convinced him to go ahead with that plan.
That’s the reason he called you in Gotham.”
Ubu’s carbon eyes dived into hers, his entire regret and disgust for what was
done emanating painfully.
“Your father was too cunning to base his strategy only to my opinion or even
his own.” His loosen face tensed to the point of deformation. “He wanted me to
summon the one whose opinion he cherished and the demon found the boy special…”
 
Batman’s steps were heavy as he reached the bike that waited him in his old
cave. His left hand was almost completely paralyzed and leaned upon his crying
in pain stomach; with his right hand he was still able to hold the bag with the
samples with Joker’s fluids and the evidence from the roof from where Superman
was shot.
After his short meeting with the madman, he chose to go investigating the roof,
though his wound was already protesting, some humidity noticeable in his
abdomen. Yet he couldn’t delay it more. So he clenched his teeth, used the
concentration tactics Ubu had taught him and proceeded.
But the road back to the cave was agony – fortunately, the bike had auto pilot
system with GPS and he called her to him, using the gadget in his cowl. If he
had to walk there, he’d have collapsed. He was feeling the dressing gauze
soaked and the vital liquid running under his suit – his heart was beating
crazily trying to balance the blood loss and send enough oxygen where it was
more needed, making his breaths uneven. The cowl was deteriorating both the
restricted oxygen and his dizziness but he couldn’t risk removing it.
He opened the secret case under the bike’s seat and stashed the bag with the
samples, then climbed. He gripped the handles, attempting once again to supply
a bit more oxygen to his stressed brain.
“Manor cave through the underground route – seat belts” he ordered and belts
tightened around his waist, legs and hands because he wasn’t sure if he’d be
able to stay on the bike. “Turbo speed.” He muttered since his remaining
strength wasn’t enough for something more.
The black sleek monster of a bike, another masterpiece of Lucius’ brilliance
accelerated instantly, without unbalancing her almost unconscious passenger.
Bruce felt some relief in his exhausted, filled with nausea mind, some safety
although the Manor and Alfred were still far away.
He had the bike’s system tuned to GCPD’s frequency and what he heard was
another blow to his bleeding wound and his cold body. He should be grateful to
the belts bounding him to the seat because he’d have been crushed to the stony
floor.
Joker had escaped during his transfer to MCU. A truck closed the convoy’s path
and clown - dressed goons killed the officers and freed their boss. At least,
Bert had been escorted to a safe place. He blundered again and people died
because he messed things…
The pain was excruciating and the dizziness mated with the nausea almost
unbearable but honestly he wasn’t sure if dying per se was really a problem –
it was rather the solution to the problem: Superman, Clark would be safe and he
would be in peace at last, without thoughts, memories, flashbacks, emotions
torturing him, without all these constantly increasing in complexity demands.
Without being responsible for another death.
He could feel every drop oozing from the screaming slash and being added to the
cold thick mattress of the half dried liquid that now covered his half body. A
really mean pang made him almost scream, his eyes swimming in a grey pool, the
bats flying scared around him forming a huge demon with bat wings and two eyes
glistening with Hell’s fires. But he didn’t fear him; it was his mind bereft of
oxygen that created him and the pain was so absolute a ruler that didn’t leave
any space for fear. Pain… Dissolving the blur of the stony walls running around
him…
The walls were made with bricks but inside they were dressed in wood to remind
a real dojo where Ra’s would have liked to train him in. Sweat was drenching
his exhausted body, his heart wanting to beat fast but he didn’t allow that,
following his watching master’s instructions for maintaining subtlety, becoming
invisible. His hands’ grip was tightening trying to stay glued to the metal as
the minutes passed by, slowly and torturing, his right hand throbbing – the two
years that passed since Ra’s healed it weren’t enough to make it completely
normal – and the rest of his used body begging for some relief. He closed his
eyes and inhaled deeply, visualizing calming things: the spring sun shining
over Palisades, caressing his body when he was a toddler.
He wouldn’t let the metallic rode on the ceiling where his master put him
hanging by his hands to teach him patience and control over his body’s needs.
And he was holding on for almost forty five minutes, his fingers ready to slip,
aware of his master’s smirk and his lustful stare over his naked wet torso.
“You can let go now, child” he ordered with his elegant voice.
And before even registering the order, his fingers obeyed in their own accord,
sending him falling to the wooden rough floor. It was what his body really
needed: crushing violently from a seven feet height. Reflectively his body took
the stance his master taught him for a landing on his feet.
He saw Ra’s’ tender and proud smile just before his master jolted himself to
catch him midair in his mighty arms, bringing them both gently down. He felt
the man’s huge hand caressing his sweat soaked locks and then kissing him on
the forehead.
“You’re very brave, Bruce; I know you were in grave pain from the beginning but
you never let go” he started massaging his sensitive former cripple hand
chasing away the pain only to give space for the other pains to invade.
Of course his master immediately realized that his body was sore from Falcone’s
all night long treatment, his other hand rubbing his naked back which was
buried in the lion-like man’s enormous chest.
“You know, Bruce” his voice was as tender as if he was speaking to his child
and he felt a hot rode piercing him remembering his own father “pain reminds us
that we’re alive…”
His tired eyes met Ra’s’ grey ones.
“I’m in pain my entire life but I don’t feel alive” although his heart had
moved to his throat his voice was cold and steady.
His master kissed his lips and brushed his hot cheek.
“Only death is bereft of pain… any pain.”
He detached his face from Ra’s’ hand to stare him solemnly.
“Then I prefer to die.”
The lion-like man smiled and it wasn’t his usual smirk. He tightened his hands
around his shivering after the overexertion torso and sank his lips in his ear.
“You’re too precious to die, child” he whispered with need, massaging with his
mouth his ear lobe.
“I’m not…” he answered trying to keep his voice from sound desperate as the
known dread and knot occupied his body from the older man’s sexual
ministrations.
“You’re condemned to live…”
Ra’s’ lips were now on his pectorals that had began to shape very nicely, the
realization disgusting him. His master’s tongue was savoring his sweat.
“Living or dying isn’t your choice after all, is it?”
He felt his heart throb exhausted.
He saw Alfred’s tired face radiating each time his ‘master’ smiled. He heard
Tony’s laugh at the beach.
“You don’t know how he was all these years he believed you dead…”Pepper told
him again with her worried voice.
“I won’t lose you again, little guy…” Tony’s voice was too serious for Tony’s
standards.
“You were death-pale and so ill that I couldn’t leave…” Clark’s honesty was
heartbreaking.
He was just barely holding on the bike – actually that was the belts – when a
vicious jolt and the distant sound of a waterfall told him that he was there.
“Un…” he inhaled to find some strength “unfasten belts”.
His legs mechanically dismounted and made an honorable effort to keep him
standing with his last drains of stamina.
“It’s about time!” Tony exclaimed, hearing the bike’s halt, his mock anger
unable to hide his good mood. “You know, buddy, I got things to do, as well! I
came to announce you good news and I’ve been waiting hours for the Prince to…”
he took in his friend’s staggering form “Fuck!”
Bruce was hearing a distant echo of incoherent sounds and a blurred form
approaching him. He wanted to move towards it but the cave’s floor became of
jelly his feet sinking in it, its dark glistening surface sped to meet his
face. His eyes almost blind, only golden lines discernible.
But two powerful hands wrapped him from the armpits and kept him erect.
“Activate face plate – scan mode!” Tony felt his voice trembling from fear
feeling his friend’s weakness: Bruce’s body a dead weight.
He saw the dressing gauze on the stomach being almost completely detached,
revealing a deep menacing gash, the butterfly stitches scattered and the blood
flooding his friend’s body under the suit. His sapphire-emerald eyes – he must
have deactivated the lenses during the road back – were completely fogged and
unfocused, seeing at nothing.
“What have you done, little guy?!” he exclaimed frustrated but his eyes – the
plate deactivated – were teary.
“To… Tony?”
His voice was so weak like the ashes a strong quenched fire had left and Tony’s
heart sank. He bit his lip.
“Who else did you expect?” he tried to lighten the situation.
But Bruce’s eyes shut and his head rolled back, his body slipping inside his
hands to the stones. Tony set his jaw and lifted him in bridal style, laying
his friend’s head protectively on his chest.
“Alfred!” he screamed almost panicked, carrying his barely breathing friend to
the medical bay.
 
***** Chapter 23 *****
Joker pushed open the door to the abandoned warehouse somewhere deep in
Gotham’s decks and strode inside, followed by his red haired female head-thug
and some others still wearing their Disney masks. The red hair seeing Joker’s
unusual behavior dismissed the other goons with a sharp gesture.
The small warehouse was immediately cast in silence after the last goon closed
the heavy door with a loud screeching sound. The red haired woman switched on
the lights to see Joker staring at his distorted form in the cracked surface of
a full height mirror. His mad eyes were extremely immobile and focused and she
understood that he was deep in thought.
She approached him slowly and sank in the covered with dust and half demolished
sofa which complained with a long sound. But Joker didn’t spat a smart ass
comment as he usually did and she rolled her eyes annoyed; her boss was a pain
in the ass when he pestered people with his supposed humor yet it was even
worse when he was absorbed in himself because then he was truly unpredictable
and plus she didn’t want to see him like this.
She shook her head.
“Do you want some pizza with milk shake?” she tried to break the silence but
the clown continued the staring contest with… himself and she growled. “Okay,
boss, failure is something nasty; you failed to kill that asshole Bert and you
were almost busted BUT you’re free now, we killed FIVE cops and we can find
Bert.”
He turned slowly his head to her and the grotesque scar-smile was an anomaly to
his serious face.
“I. Don’t. Care. About. That. Pest” his nasal voice was lower and thus more
threatening, his green eyes glistening determined.
She nodded, pouting her rich lips.
“Then, why so serious?”
He returned to his marred reflection.
“I’m thinking, Rachie…”
She crossed her hands.
“And since when thinking requires seriousness? You start being boring, J…”
He turned rapidly towards her, his locks whipping the air, his eyes maddened
once again and he raised his index finger to her warningly, his jaw set.
“Ddddon’t you eeeeever say me boooring!”
Rachel stood up exasperated and strutted, lighting a cigarette.
“You met the Batman and began imitating him?” she asked bored.
“I’m not, youuuuu bim-bo! But that’s the point; I. Met. Him!” He smiled for the
first time.
“Big deal! You’re a loony criminal, he’s the good guy; he gave you some beans
and left you for the cops, we came and saved you – end of story” she puffed the
smoke, her gaze on the webs covered ceiling.
Joker shook frantically his head in negation; he laughed like croaking.
“No, no, no, no. The hiii-story juuust starts, dear Rach, I doooon’t want to
end – as a matter of fact, I won’t let it end; it has the potential of a great
comedy…” his voice was low, like the hissing of a snake “by the way, youuuuu
can’t keep coming with uuuuuuus: we can’t risk youuuuuu being exposed…”
“You plan to keep all the fun just for yourself?” she spat.
He tilted his head and looked her behind his locks.
“Youuu can entertain yourself with Harv – you can’t expect everything from
meeee! I’m only a humble man…” he feigned humility and exasperation, raising
his hands in the air. “For the time being” his voice was again dead serious
“flirting with the DA boy and pretending Bru-cey’s friend is more important.”
Rachel lifted an ironic eyebrow above her eye mask: pretending Bru-cey’s
friend… That was Jack’s biggest joke and he didn’t even know it…
She noticed Joker’s piercing eyes perusing her and threw her cigarette’s butt.
“You won’t let it end?” She hurried to change the subject. “Do you want to be a
next time with Batman?” her voice was completely flat, emotionless. “I think
most criminals would be fed up with the first time you had a few hours ago.”
Joker began giggling, remembering the scene at Bert’s living room.
“I. Am. Not. Most. Criminals. I’m the oneeeee aaaaand only Joooooker! And why I
wouldn’t want that to happen again? It waaaaaas – ummmmm… - fasci-nating, like
my first time with Bru-cey will be…”
He closed his eyes and licked his lips, Rachel rolling her eyes. But all of a
sudden he stabbed his eyes in her face.
“Aaaaand it was al-ready the second time…”
“What?”
He dived in the sofa and opened his arms to hug sofa’s back.
“While I waaaaas paying my… tribute to Bru-cey’s troubled childhood, visiting
that brothel Dolcetto,I run into three scumbags and a grandpa – at least,
that’s what I thought… One of them had stabbed that old greezer aaaaand I
punished him and his friends for abusing knives. I was ready to kill the
grandpa when cops arrived, sooooooo I ran for it…”
Rachel sat beside him intrigued, her brow furrowed.
“And where’s Batman in all these?”
“Hehe!” his laughter was wicked. “Whil’ I was playing with them, I almost said
that I’d punish that worm Bert aaaaaaand, voila!” he made a blowing movement
with his hand “Batman was there to save the shithead.”
“He must have some way of watching the city. And you aren’t the most
unpredictable man.”
Joker straightened his back and looked Rachel in the eyes, shaking his head,
like pitying her.
“That was an insult, su-gar! Buuuuut someone” he leaned towards her “called the
police; from. Dolcetto.Aaaaand the old man tried to flee when I was ready to
give a nice smile to the Ripper, as if trying to lure me away from him.”
Rachel’s eyes were unimpressed.
“He panicked” she spat her rational explanation, crossing her arms in her
chest.
“Maaaaaay-be. Buuuuut” he brought his mouth to her ear “I kicked Batman in the
stomach and although my blade didn’t penetrate that armor, he jolted as if he
was stabbed ooooooor my kick hit a sore spot… Hehehehe!” his eyebrows moved up
and down.
Her mouth stayed agape for an instant but she quickly regained her cool.
“Maybe he had an old wound.”
“Exxxxx-xactly! The gash that punk made him! The Bat-boy roams Narrows
aaaaaaaand spies on us, huh? Playing the old, harmless grandpa. Buuuuuuut he
isn’t an old man; he had makeup and prosthetics: I knew there was something
off…” he scratched his head.
“Are you thinking?”
“No, it’s itching…”
She rolled again her eyes and took another cigar from the pack.
“So you’re now obsessed with the flying rodent? Poor Brucey! Losing an
admirer!” she said with mock sympathy, touching the cigar on her painted lips
and lighting it.
“No, no, no!” he jumped on his feet. “Bru-cey iiiis my goal; he’s uni-que: so
much tragedy” Rachel raised an eyebrow and puffed the smoke “so much pain
aaaaaand he’s still sane! Hell! He should be like me!”
“I’ll tell him to consider it…” she replied completely sarcastic.
“Buuuuuut he’s not. Uuuuugh! I craaave to study him, to dis-sect him –
figuratively -… ooor not figuratively; I’m not sure… He is maddening me…”
“Not that you need much help there…”
He looked at her lopsided.
“Hehehehe! Darling, you’ve made sooooo much progress since I met youuuuu! I’m
flattered, really! I taught you sarcasm aaaaaand humor – although, you can’t
reach MY level: these things either you have ooooor not! When I’ll possess Bru-
cey along with this damned city, I’ll teach him, too – while I‘ll be paid,
fucking him mercilessly! Uhuhuhuhuhu!” he stopped laughing abruptly. “Buuuuuuut
Bat-man is an obstacle aaaaaand fuuuuun, before the other fun; I’ll play with
him too, till I get what I want – he’s unique too, after all: dressed up as a
bat, beating bad guys aaaaaand angry as a demon – ummmmmm… A de-licious demon!”
“Delicious?”
“He has a remarkable body aaaaaand jaw aaaaaaand his ears are cute and pointy.
Aaaaaand I li-ke his scowl and his voice aaand his cape. Aaaaand I need to kill
Jack Napier.” He finished bored.
Rachel jolted.
“Why?”
“I left my fluids on the old guy…”
She laughed with mean.
“I don’t want Bat-man to follow the traces to me…”
She tapped her cigar to drop the ash.
“As if using the fluids would do that…”
Joker turned rapidly to her and grasped her jaw, yanking her head.
“I. DooooooN’T. WANT. TO. BE. CONNECTED. WITH. NAPIER. Joker must kill him –
ONLY Joker can live. ONLY. Aaaaaaaaand Bru-cey will be happy when the one
ridiculing his suffering is dead” his eyes were seeing at nowhere.
And then suddenly he snatched the cigar from her lips and broke it in half,
throwing it at the floor.
“Stoooooop smoking. It kills!”
 
Alfred heard Tony’s call just when he was stepping out of the lift and hurried
his steps, because the young man’s voice had a desperate tone that he didn’t
like at all. He saw him over the medical bay over a not moving black clad
figure.
Tony took Bruce’s loosen hands and pressed the thumbs at the spots which
unclasped the cowl and after the hissing sound, he threw the cowl away with
hatred. That cowl brought all these!
He acknowledged Alfred hunching over Bruce’s form and breathed a bit easier,
although he was still in distress; his friend’s head rolled on the metallic
table and he caressed his cheek. His heart sank; his already pale skin had the
color of blue moon with his nose a bit bruised, his lids covered gently his
eyes and he looked even younger. His breaths were imperceptible and he was
cold.
Tony searched Alfred’s eyes for guidance but the loyal man was busy unclasping
the different parts of the suit and undressing his master; Tony was impressed
by the steadiness of his wrinkled hands.
Now that his friend’s body was naked, the ugly wound he saw through scan became
even uglier as its results. A deep gash running his entire stomach, its edges
black and its depths red, still oozing blood; Alfred was removing the useless
dressing gauze and the ruined butterfly stitches, throwing them carelessly and
hastily on the stone floor. But what twisted Tony’s guts was the amount of
dried and fresh blood covering the lower half of his friend’s motionless body.
How many hours was he bleeding?
He saw with awe Alfred treating Bruce’s body completely cool like it was his
daily job, as if this young man wasn’t his beloved child lying there half dead.
Only the man’s pressed lips betrayed his inner turmoil. But Tony wasn’t
British, his heart was bleeding as his friend’s butchered stomach and he felt
frozen… and what was Alfred doing?
“Alfred, he is cold… and he barely breathes.”
Alfred left for a second the bench and fetched the trolley with the medical
tools from the sterilized case. Tony’s eyes widened.
“It’s hypothermia, Master Anthony” his voice was completely calm. “He lost too
much blood” and with that he pressed something under the bench and the surface
began warming.
Alfred gave him a transparent mask, connected to oxygen.
“Keep that on his mouth and nose, Master Anthony; he needs to get sufficient
oxygen.”
Tony obeyed and saw Alfred wearing examination gloves and raised his hands in
stop.
“Wait! Wait! I can take him to Leslie’s clinic in a few seconds or bring her
here.”
Alfred raised his collected blue eyes without stopping wearing the gloves.
“How are we going to explain the stab wound, Master Anthony?” he asked calmly,
his eyes resting affectionately for an instant on his unconscious master’s
face. “Leslie won’t say anything but there are doctors, nurses, staff who would
be curious and very talkative. Furthermore, Ironman flying a doctor at the
Manor would cause many unwanted questions.”
Tony remembered the undercover cops at the Manor’s periphery.
“Damn that fucking secrecy!” Tony spat averting his face like a whip. “He lost
too much blood, Alfred, he suffers from hypothermia; he is dying, for fuck’s
sake!”
“Master Anthony, please do calm down; everything will be fine” he said
soothingly to reassure the distraught young man. “Bruce won’t die…” his voice
bent a bit from affection that made him forget the ‘Master’ title.
Tony brought his hands on his waist and lowered his head to control his – he
realized – unhelpful nervousness. He yanked his head and closed his eyes,
seeing the blood from the gash dripping to the bench.
“I can give blood.”
Alfred had begun cleaning the nasty wound, Tony grimacing as if aching from the
antiseptics’ application.
“No, Master Anthony, you can’t: you have different blood types.”
Tony’s eyes popped out with a new wave of panic.
“Then?”
Alfred’s eyes traveled to Bruce’s drained face and it was painful to see his
expression.
“Master Bruce had foreseen it and saved some litters of his own blood.”
Tony slapped his forehead.
“That boy is completely nuts, isn’t he?” he took in Alfred preparing the
special sewing needle with the confidence of a professional doctor. “You have
done that again, haven’t you?”
“Yes, Master Anthony” the loyal butler caressed Bruce’s face with his eyes
“indeed, I have.”
Falcone’s furious yells and curses echoed throughout the Manor making Alfred
cringe at the thought of what the cruel mobster was doing to his young master
behind master bedroom's heavy door.
It was some months since Gotham’s Emperor settled at the Manor that hosted six
generations of Waynes and now served as a prison for the last surviving member.
All these months he witnessed many times Falcone’s wrath against his prisoner
but thankfully something withheld the mobster’s hand from hitting the boy –
obviously, he didn’t want to mar the boy’s beauty for which he had too much…
appreciation as his roars and his Bruce’s desperate moans and whines every
night proved.
But tonight the mobster had come to the Manor drunk and enraged, his brutal
fingers pinching Bruce’s upper arm, dragging him inside and immediately to the
master bedroom. It was after midnight and he hurried to go to the farthest
corner of the building to not listen to the newest crime inflicted upon Bruce;
his young master yielding, because beating his parents’ killer would be an
unforgivable disobedience for Al Ghul.
After two hours he thought that it was safe to go to his room: the mobster
usually stopped using – as master Bruce called it – the boy at this time or at
least had satisfied his lust to the point that he didn’t make too much noise.
He headed to his bedroom that was at the end of the corridor, his gaze staying
at the door that hid his young master’s raped and abused body.
He had closed the door to his room and he was ready to prepare himself for
sleep, hoping that Bruce was sleeping at last, even if he was trapped in
Falcone’s busty body.
Furious yells made his body shudder.
"Ya disobey me, ya dork!”
“I’m not, master…” Bruce’s shy, trembling voice pleaded.
His cool blue eyes widened in terror, hearing the clear sounds of hands sinking
in smooth flesh and slaps, followed by weak moans and sobs muffled by fabric.
He imagined his young master’s blood covered face rolling on the soft pillow,
trying to avoid his master’s rage.
“I wanna see yar dick standin’ an’ salutin’ me!” he shouted and Bruce closed
his eyes.
“I…I can’t, master… I never…”
Falcone grabbed his naked shoulders and shook him violently, lifting him from
the mattress.
“Now, ya will! ‘Cause I want it an’ I order ya to!”
Bruce gazed at him with widened, panicked eyes and the mobster smirked; his
slave’s eyes were even more beautiful when scared. He pushed violently the boy
back to the mattress and opened the nightstand’s drawer, causing panic to
Bruce.
“No, master, please…” he begged though he knew that Falcone never took pity on
him.
Falcone’s drunken eyes gazed at the big dildo in his hand and his smirk became
a full smile; Bruce knew that he couldn’t escape that unless he wanted Ra’s to
be enraged and harming someone of his loved ones. But even if he wanted to
satisfy Falcone’s demand, he couldn’t force his body, his penis to have an
erection – even Ra’s couldn’t make his body to.
The mobster pushed his thighs open without ordering him to do it and
immediately shoved the object’s edge to his anus. He gulped and moaned louder
as the object rudely and viciously invaded him swiftly, guided by his laughing
master’s hand. And then, after Gotham’s Emperor reached the depth he wanted, he
started thrusting the cold, rough object in him, his already overused insides
protesting and his whines became gradually more desperate as the thrusts became
faster and deeper.
Surely, he didn’t expect to get his wish with this treatment, Bruce was
thinking, having his eyes shut, when he felt his master’s greasy hand grabbing
his penis.
“Please, Master, stop! I can’t…” he yelled, looking him in the eyes.
But he ignored him and started pumping his penis without any gentleness, fast,
tight and so violently that Bruce felt that he’ll uproot his useless member. It
was shame and pain and he was unable to block it from flooding him, his sobs
and grunts real as his master’s hands violated his body with two ways
simultaneously.
Sweat had drenched his messy hair and naked body as the minutes passed
torturous and Falcone’s stubbornness continued more viciously his
ministrations, creating friction burns in his anus and penis. His uneven
respiration was thwarted by sobs: he was crying uncontrollably and it was
shameful to cry like a baby after so many years… But his body didn’t respond
even when half an hour passed and Falcone’s sweat made the dildo slip and his
hand leave at last his penis.
Bruce didn’t dare open his teary eyes, his shame for his outburst and for the
realization that Alfred was listening made the knot in his throat even more
painful. He shouldn’t cry: he was Batman for pity’s sake! He beat criminals and
they feared him… But now, he realized, Bruce was alone: the slave, little Bruce
at Falcone’s mercy.
Falcone roaring and fuming because he didn’t get what he wanted threw on the
floor the dildo and began slapping Bruce’s face with his massive hand, getting
his missing satisfaction from the rolling of the head that his slaps disrupted
to send it to the other side and the blood that started dripping from the boy’s
lips and nostrils.
Ra’s Al Ghul had warned him not abuse the boy but the last couple of years
seemed unbothered by some bruises in Bruce’s face, a sign that he could punish
HIS slave when appropriate.
His hand grasped his throat, choking him and he lifted the boy from the
mattress. He stood naked and his fist sank in the boy’s firm and tender belly
and then his stomach. He suddenly let Bruce’s throat and before he slipped on
the floor, he hammered his jaw, sending him to crush on the heavy oval table at
the middle of the room.
The loud crashing sound, accompanied by a weak scream that Alfred would have
recognized everywhere, clenched the butler’s heart and he brought his hand on
his mouth.
“Dear God!”
The mobster had many times before treated rudely his young master but never
like this. His cool abandoned him and shaking ran to the corridor to listen.
“Ya bastard! I kept ya alive an’ fed ya an’ ya refus’ to give me what I want!”
the mobster howled and Alfred heard with a jolt the clear sound of a foot
crashing flesh.
He heard his young master scream and then his moans. Another loud slap and
Alfred hardly kept his legs from running to his young master when metal clanged
and a thud followed Bruce’s new yell. Alfred pressed his eyes shut and tried to
control his breaths, his heart ranging. That monster killed his boy!
His trembling gave place to determination; he clenched his fist and pressed his
lips in a tight line, surging to the locked drawer where he kept his revolver.
He grasped it and closed for an instant his eyes: if this man had killed his
boy, he’d make him pay!
The sound of the butler ring startled him; it came from the master bedroom. He
hid the revolver in his jacket’s secret inner pocket and walked there, sweeping
the sweat drops from his forehead and keeping his cold demeanor. He knocked on
the door.
“Com’” the mobster barked and Alfred entered, dreading what he’d see.
He kept his steely gaze on the robed Falcone, like a good butler, but his
peripheral vision scanned anxiously the bedroom of his late masters. It was
like a small hurricane had just swept the place: the beddings were curled and
scattered around the floor, the large oval table was upturned and… his guts
twisted… the edge spear of the fireplace’s rail was dripping blood! His young
master’s completely naked body was cuddled in front of the rail, his blood
having already formed a small smudge on the thick carpet while his quiet moans
made Alfred struggle to remain in his position and not run to the suffering
boy.
“Chill will be her’ in ten minutes to tak’ him to town to see a doctor; dress
him.”
Alfred’s eyes almost widened in disbelief: Bruce was bleeding and that horrible
gorilla would come in ten minutes to take him to a crappy doctor? The boy would
die waiting.
“Of course sir; but if I may say so, I could, with your permission, treat him
here so he won’t bleed anymore.”
The mobster smirked and regarded the butler amused.
“You’re a doctor, too?” he chuckled totally indifferent to Bruce’s suffering
and Alfred’s agony.
“I happen to know some things, Master Falcone; and, if I may offer my opinion,
he” Bruce had pleaded with him to be cold towards him especially in front of
others “won’t last so much; so if I have your permission…” he hardly could
restrain his rasping breath.
Falcone’s wolfish eyes fell cruelly on Bruce’s curved, trembling back and
crossed his arms on his plumb chest, scrutinizing Alfred with narrowed eyes.
“Go ahead, but if he dies, ya’ll follow…”
“Of course sir” he bowed his head – if Bruce dies, everyone in this room will
die with him.
At last, he could go to Bruce. He kneeled beside him; the boy’s eyes were
tightly shut and his lips slightly open in breathing laboriously. His locks as
his entire body was wet with sweat and he wrapped his hands around his
trembling shoulders to lay him gently on his back to see the damage.
Bruce opened his eyes which were watered and foggy and Alfred’s hand twitched
to caress his cheek to encourage him but Falcone’s brute figure watching
stopped him. His eyes said to the youth that everything will be fine, that he
was there and he wasn’t alone.
He had many bruises on his abdominal as on his face, but the blood was coming
from his ribs and Alfred panicked; if he had a pierced lung, things were
difficult.
Bruce had his right hand protectively over his side and Alfred took it gently
and placed it on the carpet. He closed his eyes desperate; the gash was
lengthy, beginning under his armpit and reaching above his kidney and Alfred
thanked God that the kidney was unharmed.
Days after, in the cave, Bruce told him that he avoided the spear as much as
possible to protect his vital organs but not the injure so that Falcone didn’t
suspect he was trained.
It wasn’t a very deep wound but it was dripping constantly.
“Everything will be fine, Master Falcone” he said, gazing at the mobster but
Alfred was certain that Bruce knew he was addressing him.
He rushed to his bedroom, locked his revolver back to the drawer and took the
elaborated First Aid Kit to return to the master bedroom.
He sat down, wore his latex gloves and began cleaning the wound, Bruce hissing
and sobbing to hide from Falcone his ability to bear pain. Although he knew
that his young master was letting on purpose the moans to be herd, he also knew
that the pain was real and this realization brought humidity to his eyes: Bruce
shouldn’t be in pain…
The same thoughts and feelings as when he was stitching the toddler Bruce who
was caressed by his anxious mother. Master Thomas was abroad and the roads from
Palisades to the town were blocked by thick ice. The small boy gashed his
forehead playing at the old greenhouse and the wound was bleeding a lot.
“I was a doctor’s assistant in the British army, madam” he had said to a
panicked Martha who was keeping tightly in her chest the crying toddler, trying
to calm him and herself. Her eyes shone with hope and she sat the small boy in
the examination table of the small surgery Thomas had in the house and kissed
his sweaty pale cheek.
“Everything will be fine, baby… Mom is here and Alfred will fix it… Don’t cry,
my angel, please don’t cry…”
He finished stitching the wound and dressed it with gauze, Falcone’s eyes
always watching closely. Bruce closed his eyes and Alfred noticed the blood
inside his thighs and immediately caught with the corner of his eye on the
floor the deplorable object that tortured the youth, blood in its edge.
He didn’t show his disgust, just wrapped the boy’s arm around his shoulder and
cautiously heaved him, the youth helping him secretly carrying the most of his
weight. Alfred laid him on the mattress and muffled him in the sheets.
He turned to Falcone who was staring with his head tilted, his hands crossed
and smirking.
“He’ll need some caution with his wound the next days, sir; I’ll administer him
some antibiotics and he’ll be fine.”
“It’ll leave a scar?” the mobster furrowed.
 “No, sir, I don’t think that it’ll leave a scar.”
“Ya’ve done that again, huh?”
Alfred finished the stitching of the wound which was so neatly and tightly
closed that Tony was impressed. The old butler tossed his gloves in the bin and
began cleaning his young master’s body from the dried and half dried blood with
a medical sponge. Then he began dressing him with pajamas that obviously had
stashed there some other time. His each ministration was so gentle and
cautious, as if the old butler was handling a fragile baby, and Tony thought
that he was watching the replay of a scene from Bruce’s childhood.
“Master Anthony, I think that now we can take Master Bruce to his warm bed;
could your iron” he smiled obviously relieved “arms carry him so that I bring
the blood bottle and the IV?”
“Of course, Alfred” he winked calmer by Alfred’s confidence.
He took his friend’s body that despite his muscle mass seemed so frail that
Tony felt the same warmth and love as when he protected little Bruce. He placed
smoothly his head on his chest to stop it from rolling backwards and tried to
transfer his own temperature to his friend.
He touched him feathery on the warm, fluffy mattress and muffled him with the
beddings till Alfred would bring the blankets. He pressed his lips in a tight
line and caressed Bruce’s cold locks; the color hadn’t returned to his face but
it would as soon as he had blood transfused to him and his temperature became
normal again. He was breathing normally and his beautifully shaped lips’ soft
movements enchanted his eyes, as were his long eyelashes that brushed his high
cheekbones. He already missed his friend’s unique colored eyes.
“You have to wake up, soon, little guy…”
The heavy door of the master bedroom opened so soundlessly that Tony was
surprised to see Alfred walking in with a trolley crammed with medical stuff
that made him feel completely ignorant and thankful for the butler’s presence,
as well.
Alfred pierced carefully the vein in Bruce’s upper arm with a flat needle that
ended up to a blood bottle he adjusted with the help of a metallic branch above
the bed. He then pierced the other arm to connect an IV with Bruce’s body. The
old butler covered the needles with sticky gauze and touched his fingers on
Bruce’s throat to take his pulse, which still wasn’t as it should be judging
from the man’s pressed lips.
“His heart is sensitive and the amount of blood he lost…” he whispered to
Alfred. “Maybe we should take him to Leslie’s clinic after all…” he didn’t want
to sound like this yet he realized that it sounded like pleading.
Alfred smiled reassuringly and jotted the number of pulses on a small notebook
he conjured from his pocket. Then he brought the edge of an electronic
thermometer in Bruce’s ear just for a second and noted his temperature, too.
“His vitals are indeed low, Master Anthony, but in a few minutes with the blood
transfusion and the IV, they will start to normalize” his face sobered, seeing
Tony’s narrowed eyes “if they won’t, we shall take him to Leslie, secrecy be
damned!”
Tony smiled because Alfred used a bad word.
“Tell me, Alfred” he said as the man began tidying up the trolley “how can
Bruce be so severely wounded? He wore his old suit but still the material isn’t
penetrable – the proof? There wasn’t even a scratch in the stomach part of the
suit.”
The young man quirked an eyebrow to him and his smart gaze demanded an answer.
Alfred sighed.
“Master Wayne was injured because he didn’t wear his suit. Every day after
Wayne Tower, he disguises himself and wanders the Narrows to gather
information.”
Now, this was too much! Tony heaved his hands in the air exasperated and
slapped his thighs, shaking his head.
“He IS completely nuts!” he yelled and Alfred’s stern gaze reminded him to
lower his voice. “He… he roams the Narrows without his suit… SPYING on
criminals??? Why! He had a dead wish, isn’t he?!” he slapped back the stray
locks that had fallen on his forehead and rubbed his temple. “Has he any
awareness of what will happen if they discover Bruce Wayne there? What I’m
saying? Already happened!”
“I don’t want to play the Devil’s Advocate but Master Bruce is a great spy”
Tony shook his head in disbelief. “He mastered this disguise while being under
Falcone’s rule, passing unnoticed; even I couldn’t recognize him.”
Tony gestured to Bruce’s unconscious form and then to Alfred.
“Oh! I see that!” he snapped sarcastic. “As soon as he wakes up, I’m snatching
him and taking him to a remote island and for good measure I’ll lock him up!”
Alfred approached him and patted him on the shoulder.
“Master Anthony, he’d be out in a couple of hours and that because the lock
would be yours: he hacked CIA’s database at sixteen with an obsolete laptop…”
he winked and Tony raised his head staring at Alfred.
“He told you that?”
“Of course not. He never talks about his skills. Miss Kyle told me: the laptop
was hers.”
Tony inhaled somewhat relaxed and looked affectionately at his friend’s
tranquil face.
“Is he in pain?”
“The IV contains painkillers and sedatives; don’t worry, Master Anthony, he is
sleeping like a baby.”
Tony raffled his hair and let his hand on his neck.
“I never had the chance to thank that amazing girl, as I should…” he murmured,
pressing his lips.
Alfred smiled.
“I think that the indeed amazing Miss Kyle doesn’t need our thanks; I reckon
that for her the better thanks is us being around Bruce.”
Tony grimaced unconvinced because the truth being told he didn’t feel that he
was doing enough for his friend: not that whatever he might do now or in the
future could compensate for his eighteen years’ absence. He sat on the chair
beside the bed and brushed his friend’s forehead which seemed a bit warmer than
before.
“I think that his temperature is rising, Alfred!”
“We must be careful in case he runs a fever because it’d be a signal of
infection: he cleaned his wound himself and I did it again, but still...”
“You should have some rest, Alfred, you must be exhausted; I’ll stay with him
and I’ll call you, if it’s necessary.”
Alfred looked at Tony affectionately and then at his young master.
“You must be tired too, Master Anthony.”
Tony understood that the loyal butler was reluctant to let his kid from his
eyes even for a few minutes moreover to go to sleep.
“I was just flying around in my iron – impenetrable” he pointed the word “suit
covered by a team of superheroes, while Pepper ran all my errands. I didn’t
play with knives and my regular time for sleep is the dawn; we have hours until
then.”
Alfred realized that the young man wanted to stay at his friend’s side.
“As you wish, Master Anthony; however in two hours I’ll take your place and
you’ll take your rest.”
“OK, Al!” and before Alfred walked out “Leslie will be furious for not telling
her, huh?”
Alfred stopped on his heels and stared amused at Tony.
“It’s a “lose-lose” situation, Master Anthony: we would have either Leslie or
Bruce furious with us.”
Tony lowered his head and laughed.
“Goodnight, Al.”
 
He was sat at the snow covered forest floor of the Palisades, trembling half
naked under Superman’s tender stare, while the patrol car with Flass flee at
the distance. He didn’t dare to lift his eyes to the kind stranger’s face – he
was only a victim, after all and he should remain that way. And his exposed
body truly twitched from the icy cold of the Gotham winter.
He saw through the corner of his lowered eyes, Superman’s enormous hands moving
and then soothing, paralyzing warmth settling on his body and gradually
emerging in his depths. He lifted shyly his gaze and saw the almost God
muffling him in his red cape, shielding him from the cold of the world, a kind
understanding smile on the alien’s beautiful face. And he felt tears attacking
his eyes as Superman heaved him easily in his strong embrace, pinning him to
his chest not to violate him but to warm him with his body’s temperature. He
became aware that warm moisture streaked his cold cheeks…
Bruce opened his eyes not without effort because his head was too heavy and
misty and urged him to keep them shut and plunge again to blessed oblivion. He
didn’t try immediately to rise from the mattress since his body felt like a
log, alive but unwilling to be active, begging him to stay there. Sweet
weakness, lightness, as if he didn’t belong to Gotham’s menacing world, tender
warmth and a dull throbbing stretch at his stomach…
He remembered the events of the previous night and closed his eyes. He had
survived; Alfred once again fixed him and Tony was there too, though at the
moment he didn’t sense anyone in the room.
He took in his surroundings. The master bedroom was in a discreet dark as the
heavy curtains were down but the daylight still managed to sneak inside. His
one hand was connected with an IV and the other had a gauzed small prick and
although thinking was difficult he deduced that they had transfused him blood.
An IV. That explains everything: Alfred had sedated him and gave him
painkillers for that reason his body disobeyed him.
He detached the needle and keeping a protective – actually, it was numb so it
was the only thing it could do – left hand on the wounded stomach and sat
slowly on the mattress, parting not without regret from the fluffy blankets.
His head protested with a violent wave of dizziness and nausea. He positioned
his feet on his slippers and slowly stood.
He was thankful to Alfred’s and Tony’s care and he already knew and understood
their objections but he couldn’t stay in bed (although he might want it). He
had so many urgent things to take care and he was used to do things under pain
and exhaustion.
He wore his warm robe and went to the bathroom. A shower was very difficult in
his condition so he just brushed his teeth, a low pain there and in the nose
reminding him the crush with the goon’s knees.
He used his training to leave the bedroom and walk the corridor undetected to
the passage to his cave.
“Yes, Lucius, Bruce got the flue and will stay at home for a couple of days.”
Bruce halted; it was Tony a bit tired speaking on the phone, his fingers
tapping the cup of hot espresso he was sipping. “Yes” he affirmed pointedly to
Lucius “the night air here at Palisades is too cold even at spring time.”
Bruce hurried his steps to the passage-lift’s entrance, wanting to avoid his
friend’s early preachment. Yet an almost undetectable hissing sound said to him
that he was busted and that Ironman was standing behind his back. Unwillingly
but not unwanted a broad and mischievous smile sculpted his face. He was indeed
feeling like a toddler caught in breaking a vase with biscuits…
“Next time you’ll activate Ironman in here you’ll find yourself stuck in a
giant magnet in the ceiling!” he laughed, seeing Ironman minus the face plate
glaring at him.
Tony snorted yet his lips stayed tight, his eyes narrowed, although seeing
Bruce with that mischievous, child-like smile and his puppy eyes clenched his
heart with nostalgia. However he forced himself to stay stern to this
troublemaker young man– he was the older one after all!
“I see that being stabbed and almost dying lifts your spirits” he snapped.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Tony didn’t deactivate his Ironman armor and Bruce rolled his eyes, his mood
gloomier by the realization that a hard discussion was ahead.
“Listen, Tony, I’m sorry about last night but you know better than anyone that
this kind of activities has an increased amount of danger and, all in all, shit
happens…”
Tony deactivated his armor and tightened his grasp on his waist, shaking his
lowered head in denial and anger.
“No, Bruce” he raised his head, still shaking it “I was never stabbed in the
stomach, while spying on the shady streets of Malibu” he stopped and rolled his
eyes, realizing that what he said was totally bullshit “okay, scratch that,
Malibu doesn’t have shady streets. But” he raised his voice “I don’t take
moronic risks, meddling with scum without my armor, ending up half dead!”
Bruce’s face was instantly covered with shadows; his eyes narrowed like a
lurking cat’s – moronic risks!He didn’t know anything about Gotham! He turned
towards the lift’s entrance, choosing not to continue the dispute: obviously,
Tony was still upset from last night’s events and he didn’t blame him.
“You’ll just ignore me, like a stranger, and turn your back on me?” Tony spat
yet Bruce could hear a tiny bitterness.
So he stopped, his right hand on the wall, the other loose at his side
purposely avoiding the wound so to not show weakness, and turned to his friend,
inhaling.
“Okay, Tony; I apologized for the upset I caused you. But you don’t know Gotham
and my moronic riskssupply me with information that even Batman can’t gather.”
Tony somehow appeased made a step towards him.
“I never face villains without my armor and I don’t stretch myself thin with so
many things. You need to be more cautious with your life, Bruce; you were
already exhausted, when Falcone was arrested and from then you continue the
same frantic way of life.” He pressed his lips. “One of these days, you’ll
collapse; like last night. How many hours you were bleeding?”
Bruce averted his gaze.
“Many” Tony answered himself. “You were stabbed in the Narrows and instead of
coming here and receive treatment you wore your old suit and ran to face Joker;
resulting in what? Him escaping the police – I saw it on the news - and you
almost dying from the heavy blood loss.”
Bruce pushed the locks from his forehead: indeed, Joker escaped and killed five
police officers in the process – his wound bit him angrily.
“I know I’ve messed things; I know it was too risky continuing but I treated my
wound and I couldn’t let an innocent die.”
Tony lifted an eyebrow.
“Adam Bert is the innocent?” his disbelief colored his voice.
The younger man’s eyes shone.
“You’d have let him die?” he spat and saw Tony, closing his eyes. “My moronic
riskbrought me face to face with the clown and I learnt that he was to kill the
man.”
Tony’s eyes widened.
“You met Joker unarmed?!”
Bruce crossed his arms.
“I’m trained; I don’t need the armor!”
Tony jerked his head exasperated.
“Yes, but you can’t act as a ninja while dressed as a beggar, right?” he almost
yelled. “The proof? He stabbed you!”
“It wasn’t the Joker; it was a thug. Joker actually came and stopped them
before I had to betray myself.”
“He saved you?” his disbelieving grimace distorted his face.
“No, he just wanted to kill us all for defiling” his voice was sarcastic “the
place where Brucey was raised. Anyway, Freddy is now a burnt ace; I can’t use
him again.”
“I don’t like it, Bruce” he shook his head “I don’t like it at all; that loony
and his obsession with you: he’s really dangerous, you know.” Suddenly, he
remembered his initial cause for annoyance. “You sneaky punk! You disoriented
me! Forget it: you won’t go to that cave! I bet you’re still lightheaded and
weak. You’ll go back in bed!”
Bruce shook his head negatively.
“I can’t, Tony; I have many thinks to do” Tony tilted his head, his eyes crying
out ‘you’re kidding me!’ “Speaking of which” his voice became a little
hesitant. “I wanted to ask you… a favor.”
Tony furrowed.
“Superman’s shot made me think of something that Lucius’ tests confirmed.”
“I’m not going to like what I’ll hear, right?” Tony crossed his arms on his
chest.
“My body causes weakness to Superman and increases Kryptonite’s radiation and
effect; For years, Ra’s Al Ghul was applying to me a substance in oil form that
caused that” he saw Tony narrowing his eyes, his rage flaring up. “The
substance with the years became part of my cells’ memory and now they produce
it themselves. The more Superman stays near me the more he weakens and the more
Kryptonite’s power on him increases.”
Tony nodded with his face completely solemn.
“What are the effects of this substance on you?” he asked and pierced his
friend with his stare.
Bruce was dumbfounded; he told Tony that Superman is slowly killed by his
proximity to him and he asked the most irrelevant thing.
“I…” he frowned “I don’t know… I just wanted to ask you – of course I’ll take
over whatever task you want to lighten your burden – to cooperate with Lucius
to make an antidote for Superman. I gave Lucius samples of my tissues and
Superman’s…” he stopped disappointed, seeing Tony tilting his head with his
refusal in his carbon eyes.
“We should have been working in ways to protect YOU from a horny Kryptonian in
addict’s panic; his need for you will gradually be growing and I don’t want to
think what he is able to do to you in his madness. He is almost a God, you
know, and also, has enemies that are truly formidable; imagine what’ll happen
when they hear that you’re THE weapon to destroy their enemy: they’ll put a
price on your head to get you. AND” he raised his voice, seeing Bruce gaping at
him “we still don’t know what that mutation can cause to you in the long term.”
“No, Tony, this isn’t about me: Clark is in danger here!”
Tony stabbed him with his accusing eyes under his raised eyebrows.
“You’re in love with him and you neglect yourself because of that fucking
alien!”
Bruce’s face lost his hard regained color.
“I…I’m not!”
“Yes, you are, he… that fucking bastard fooled you with his supposed kindness
to love him but I tell you: he is just a pervert, like that Joker guy!”
He was yelling, his voice rising as the younger man with resolute but wet eyes
was shaking his head in dismissal.
“No, I’m not in love with him, Tony! I can’t be in love with anyone and you
know why? Because I’m not normal!”
Tony felt a heavy blow in the gut, hearing his own stupid term that he had
yelled at Bruce when in Malibu. He realized that his horrible word had been
curved in his friend’s heart and mind.
“I can’t love anyone and I’ll never be able to because I’ll never be normal!
Clark is the victim here; he doesn’t love me, he’s just tortured by Al Ghul’s
evil plan, drugged and slowly killed! Just because he wanted to help me… So if
you want to be jealous of someone for the years we lost, be jealous of Falcone
or Chill or Al Ghul. Clark wouldn’t have loved me without the drug’s effect…”
He rubbed his throbbing temple. “If you don’t want to help Clark, fine” he
nodded “I’m not a scientist or a genius like you yet I’ll assist Lucius,
following his instructions.”
He stepped in the lift to the cave and Tony’s regretful eyes stopped on the
dark spot on Bruce’s stomach. He sighed.
“You’re bleeding…” he whispered, his friend’s emotional pain that spurted from
his words stinging him like a spear in his ribs.
Bruce not even looked at his wound.
“I’m used to that…” he said with his voice hoarse and pushed the button,
disappearing.
 
***** Chapter 24 *****
Tony fought the urge to kick the wall as the humming sound of the lift was
feigning rapidly. His teeth were clenched. He wasn’t angry with Bruce, he was
angry with himself. He shook his head frustrated and sighed; he needed a large
glass of whiskey and he hoped that there was some booze in this house.
“Fuck!” he yelled and punched the small marble table that was attached to the
wall, immediately regretting it because although his strength saved him from
breaking his hand, it still ached.
“You are testing the table’s durability or your hand’s, Master Anthony?”
Tony turned surprised, holding his hand, facing Alfred’s lifted eyebrow.
“They both passed the test, Alfred” he replied wanting to sound normal yet the
butler was looking him with a knowing expression.
Alfred covered the distance between them and smiled.
“I went to the master bedroom to check Master Bruce and, as it was expected” he
sighed “he had already abandoned his bed and” he lifted an eyebrow “I followed
his steps where I was sure he’d go. So, as I was approaching, I unfortunately
happened to hear your contretemps.”
Tony shook his head and ruffled his hair.
“I know that you’re too gentleman to eavesdrop, Alfred” he replied gloomy.
But Alfred smiled lighthearted.
“Well, thank you for that, sir!”
Tony snorted; his mood still bad and made to walk to the stairs his purpose to
go downstairs where Alfred kept the drinks.
“Contretemps! Oh, Alfred...” he rolled his eyes. “Try dogfight! And it’s...” he
sighed.
Alfred made a backwards step and found the young man’s lowered eyes.
“What is it, Master Anthony?” he inquired affectionately.
“Sorry, Al” he snapped to avoid the kind man “but I need to drink not to
speak...”
Yet Alfred was unyielding.
“I beg to differ, sir; the last thing you need is to drink. Please do tell me
what you left unsaid.”
Tony clenched his waist and yanked his head, rolling his eyes – he couldn’t
escape Alfred.
“It’s my fault; I claim that I’m his best friend that I want his happiness and
look what I’m doing...” he gestured to the passage. “He needs warmth and... and
understanding and patience and what I’m doing? I treat him exactly as his
abusers did...”
Alfred who was listening to him very carefully raised an eyebrow at his last
sentence.
“Do you mind clarifying that to me, Master Anthony?” he asked so calm and
soothingly that Tony rolled his eyes and sighed.
“How can you be so patient, Alfred?”
Alfred smirked.
“It takes some training and much effort, sir; I assure you” he nodded with
emphasis and Tony chuckled, his mood lighter for an instant. “Well?”
The young man pressed his lips and rubbed his forehead.
“Listen... It’s that... I’m too pressing, too demanding, too... possessive; and
I feel that sometimes I’m suffocating him...”
It was Alfred’s turn to chuckle.
“Master Bruce although has been a prisoner for almost all his life is such free
a spirit that even his own self suffocates him.”
Yet Tony wasn’t consoled; he shook his head.
“I talked to him in such manner that it was like insulting him... Like an
attack... I forced him to yell and leave...”
Alfred raised both his eyebrows.
“Pardon me, sir, but I failed to understand how is this similar to the way his
abusers treated him?”
Tony opened fast his mouth to answer but suddenly it was difficult to find the
proper answer to that simple question.
“I verbally attacked him because he didn’t agree with me” Alfred nodded with
closed eyes urging him to continue but having an expression of deeper
knowledge. “I...I upset him and while he was talking calmly, I made him talk
back and left angry.”
Alfred opened his eyes, smiling.
“And what exactly from those things you mentioned was Bruce able to do with his
abusers? Disagree, talk back or leave angry? Although I don’t think that he is
indeed angry.”
Tony crossed his arms  and scratched his hair, grimacing; he understood what
Alfred was saying.
“Alfred...”
“His abusers didn’t disagree with him: they just cursed or verbally abused him,
Master Bruce listening, swallowing every insult, receiving blows and remaining
silent. What just took place between you was a dispute and abusers never have a
dispute with their victims; friends,_on_the_contrary,_have_disputes” he
stressed his words, leaning his head towards Tony’s. “Both of you, sir, have
strong personalities that differ in some aspects so it’s absolutely expected to
have some disputes.”
Tony knew that Alfred was right and he felt somewhat relieved but he had still
a pang in the chest. He focused his eyes on Alfred’s with odd for him
seriousness.
“I told him that he is not normal, Alfred” he confessed almost whispering. “At
Malibu – I’m sure he never mentioned it to you -, he expressed some doubts
about my decision to reveal myself as Ironman and I” he inhaled “screamed at
him that he is not normal.” He closed his eyes and shook his head disappointed
with himself. “And today I realized that my word became one more scar in his
heart that he carries all the time: I made him believe that he isn’t normal and
that he doesn’t deserve the common pleasures ‘normal’ people have...”
He supported his weight on his hands at the marble table and lowered his head.
“I’m useless, Alfred; I brag all the time that I’m genius but in the end I’m
nothing more than a selfish fool: my selfishness leading me to hurt Bruce
more... And even when I act without being self-absorbed I’m so clumsy that I
say and do the wrong things.” He sighed and stared lopsided at the Palisades
from the rectangular window. “I wish I was with him all these years, maybe then
I could treat him the right way; but now I’m just an asshole, reminding him
consistently that he is not normal. Sometimes I muse...”
Alfred’s moved eyes searched the younger man’s stare which was lost in the
forests.
“What is it that you muse, Master Anthony?”
He yanked his head and looked at the ceiling the thought of him glued there by
a giant magnet pushing him to smile.
“That Bruce would be better if I keep a distance...”
Alfred’s always cool eyes widened to Tony’s amazement.
“You don’t think that seriously, sir; you can’t be thinking that thing...” the
pain in Alfred’s voice and the despair made Tony bit his lip. “You are precious
to Master Bruce: he can’t imagine his life without you; you should have seen
him when that deplorable man had captured and tortured you...”
Tony left the table and looked Alfred in the eyes, patting his upper arm with a
reassuring smile.
“I don’t intend on giving up on Bruce... I just want to stop hurting him more,
giving him some space...”
“Did he ask you to?” he asked blatantly.
Tony furrowed.
“Of course not.”
“Then, pardon me, sir, but you’re talking nonsense.” The young man made to say
something. “Yes, you are, Master Anthony! You say that you make Bruce feel not
normal; am I not? Is Leslie not? We had lost him for eighteen years, we know
that he suffered unimaginable pain and we behave to him as if he is fragile and
indeed he is... Of course he isn’t like all of us who didn’t suffer the crimes
he suffered; he is more frail because of that, he is stronger because of that,
he is better because of that... But he is different and this isn’t bad, if we
show to him that despite his differences we didn’t believe him an ‘alien body’
among us.” Tony closed his eyes in the mention of ‘alien’. “And you’re
achieving that better than anyone: you regard and treat him as a personality,
as a human being and not as just a victim.” Alfred shook his hand. “You don’t
hesitate to disagree with him, to press him, to make him react,  quarrel, and
turn his back and leave, as if all these would shatter him. You might have said
to him in an outburst that he isn’t normal but in fact you were proving to him
the opposite” he smiled benevolently.
Tony felt his eyes moisturized; he tilted his head and squinted at Alfred.
“Are you sure I’m doing all that?”
Alfred chuckled.
“One hundred percent, sir.”
“He had blood again, Alfred.”
“Then, we must get that brat back to his bed.”
“Leave it to Tony, Al!”
 
Bruce heard without turning his head the lift descending to the cave, a minute
ago the lift had been called upstairs. He expected Alfred to place the tray
with his breakfast at the working bench and leave silently. So he continued his
work putting Joker’s extracted samples in the special machine.
He didn’t want to rethink what happened; Tony was probably already in the way
back to Malibu, having had enough. Bruce knew better than anyone that he wasn’t
the friend Tony lost neither the friend he hoped that he had found again. He
was a pain in the ass; a burden for anyone that knew little Bruce and if he
could, he would have released them; only that they didn’t want to be released
from his burden...
But Tony was different; he was living a different kind of life, carefree,
happy, in sunshine. And he was dragging him in the darkness... He didn’t want
to lose Tony, besides he struggled to keep him in his life with his imagination
even when Falcone was keeping him imprisoned and away from the living. Still he
felt a pang in the gut for the way he spoke to him while  last night he saved
his life and he was sure that his ruined character would hurt Tony more times
in the future. Tony was too normal to be wasted with him...
Tony stepped out of the lift and saw his friend hunched above a latest
technology gadget, pressing buttons and tapping on the keyboard of his
marvelous computer. He smiled fondly.
“You told me that you’re not a scientist” he said in his cheery way.
Bruce was surprised to hear Tony’s voice undeterred from the previous incident;
but it was, admittedly, a pleasant surprise. He raised slowly his head and
looked his friend approaching smiling and a warm wave ran him.
“I...I’m not. This” he gestured to the machine on the bench “is Lucius’
creation and he showed me how to use it – is too easy, actually.”
“I know” he nodded “I created one like this for my use: do you reckon that
Lucius stole my invention?” his voice was mocking suspicious.
The younger man smiled warmly and his eyes glistened.
“Oh, I’m sure it’s a case of great minds think alike.” His eyes focused on
Tony’s, his lips pressed in a tight line. “I’m sorry, Tony, I yelled at you; it
wasn’t your fault and I went off on you...”
Tony lifted his hand to stop him.
“Now you’re stealing my lines! You have all these urgent matters on your mind
and I almost attacked you for things that are completely none of my business.”
Bruce brushed the bench awkward.
“You’re my friend; it’s” he smiled “normal to care about me. My outburst was
uncalled for.”
Tony crossed his arms, tilted his head and winked.
“Someone told me that this kind of behavior is actually normal.”
“Someone you trust?”
The older man’s smile now was a giggle.
“With my best friend’s life!”
Bruce shook his head amused and resumed his work on the machine. But Tony
hadn’t finished.
“Bruce, when I told you in Malibu that you’re not normal…” he sighed.
His friend raised his stare to him.
“I wanted you to know that I don’t believe that. I mean, you’ve been through a
hell – many hells! – and it’s unavoidable these things having an impact on you
but you’re not an anomaly. You’re more normal than most of the people I know
and I was an asshole to say that to you and if you believe the crap I said
then, I deserve to be glued on your ceiling and people coming and laughing at
me.”
Bruce pressed his lips and smiled.
“What I said upstairs has nothing to do with what you said back then; actually,
I had forgotten that already. I know how much you love and care for me: after
all, this is the reason you get so hot in our discussions…” he pushed his hair
back with his hand. “It’s not your fault that sometimes I…” he sighed. “Listen,
Tony: I know that I’ve lost many things that I’d never replace – among them, a
childhood, a teenage – college life with you; I know that all these have
altered me, that I’m not the kid you and our friends knew and loved and I know
that it is difficult for you to get used to that new being that was left
behind…” he licked his lips “But you’re still here and you love me as you loved
me then… and for me that is… that is a blessing… Your love makes me focus on
what I won… what I have…” he snorted “although – I admit – I don’t feel worthy
of all these.”
Tony felt his eyes watering and tried to say something.
“I’m grateful, Tony and I cherish your friendship and I want you to know and
remember that whatever happens in the future – whatever quarrel we may have…”
His friend shook his head making grimaces.
“I’m not so good, little guy; ask whoever you want.”
“I don’t need to ask anyone; I know it” he remarked raising his eyebrow and
resumed his work on the machine.
Tony still numb from his friend’s praise sat in a stool right beside Bruce.
“These are Joker’s samples, right? You’re extracting the DNA pattern to cross
it with Police, Interpol and every other database there is.”
Bruce answered with an agreement sound.
“He touched you?” Tony inquired grimacing in disgust and Bruce chuckled
shrugging.
“Only the special latex of the face mask… But you didn’t tell me anything about
your mission yesterday or Mr. Fury forbids it?” he cast a playful gaze at him.
“Fury is just a clerk; he has no control over me. Some crazy fanatics  holding
hostages in Beijing’s underground – boring; I could have settled the thing
myself.”
“As much as these missions seem easy you should be careful: they could easily
become a trap set by your enemies.”
“Says the man who was stabbed while undercover…” he pointed.
Bruce smiled crooked and gave a shrug.
“And I have a bunch of superheroes around me that adore me…”
Bruce snorted.
“I know you’re lovable, Tony, but ‘adoration’ isn’t a bit exaggerated?”
Tony leaned his head on his arms upon the bench and raised his gaze to Bruce,
making him the puppy eyes.
“But why? You adore me!”
His younger friend laughed carefree and Tony felt the urge to hug him as when
he was just a kitten.
“Any progress on Stane?”
“He is up to something; he has bought a factory in a God-forsaken place and
manufactures something – probably a weapon, judging from the secrecy. But he
doesn’t keep any data on that, like he knows that I watch him.”
Bruce nodded.
“Maybe he does and maybe he doesn’t work alone.”
Tony furrowed.
“Do you have any copy of the deal for the factory?” he turned his gaze at Tony.
“I can easily find one. What do you suspect?”
He shrugged.
“I spent too many years with Falcone and Ra’s Al Ghul and I know that sometimes
things are more complex than they seem… Especially, Ra’s was truly a demon in
plotting…” his eyes stared away for a few seconds. “So” he returned to Tony
“I’m too cautious with villains and especially wannabe villains like Mr.
Stane.”
“Bruce, according what Ra’s did to you…”
He stopped him with a gesture.
“Tony, I don’t want to emotionally blackmail you to assist with that. I know
that you don’t like Clark and it’s your right, as it is your right to not want
to engage yourself in that. And…” he set his jaw resolutely “I’m not in love
with him but he thinks he is and that is killing him slowly and I want to fix
it before something very bad happens…” because of me.
Tony put his hand on Bruce’s forearm and pressed it lightly.
“Your heart will speak someday, little guy...” he shook his head. “You have a
heart of gold and you deserve to be truly loved…” his voice was hoarse.
Bruce didn’t answer; he didn’t believe that: he was only able to evoke evil
people’s savageness, their passion to rampage his body. He was worthy only for
a brutal screw… Not love; the one who thought that loved him was drugged… It
was better, actually, that way, because his heart was – not of gold – but of
stone and ice. Yet he didn’t want to cause sadness to Tony who was looking at
him hopeful. So he smiled reassuringly and then blinked.
“I think you had something to tell me? I remember something about good news?”
“The project for the application of the arc reactor technology in replacing
missing body parts and restoring brain damage is almost finished; the first
tests were very satisfying and only some minor things have to be adjusted so we
can announce it; I waited your approval to give the green light to Pepper to
ready the press release and official presentation. I think that the grand
opening of the Haven is the best occasion to announce that, too. Huh?”
Bruce seemed happy yet a shadow was over his eyes.
“What is it?”
“All these are great, Tony, but with the Joker on the loose it’s too dangerous;
there will be many people and I don’t want to turn his attention to Haven –
this man has no moral values or bounds and the Haven already hosts hundreds of
innocent people not to mention the stuff of the various services.”
Tony stood.
“Do you want to postpone it?” he asked with understanding.
Bruce raised his gaze at the cave’s ceiling, his lips pressed in a tight line.
“No, we shouldn’t give the impression to the people of Gotham that we are
afraid of him; that he can stop the life and the improvement of the city. We
can’t let him win” Tony nodded, smirking satisfied.
“Oh! Let him come! I have some missiles with his name on them! I regret not
using all of them in that scum Al Ghul!”
Bruce’s hands stayed awkward in the air, his eyes suddenly vague and Tony felt
a knot in his throat.
“Tell me more about what he did to you” he exclaimed zealous. “We’ll fix that;
we’ll ruin his monstrous plan and… we’ll save our UFO friend; in the long term,
you’ll be safer if that effect stops. But you have to tell me everything about
that bastard’s practices.”
The younger man smiled warmly.
“You’re great, Tony, you know that?”
He pouted his lips, raised an eyebrow and nodded.
“Oh, yeah baby, I do! It’s what I hear all the time in my bed, on the kitchen’s
bench, on the Jacuzzi pool, on…”
Bruce rolled his eyes and stopped him touching his palm on his mouth.
“I think I get the picture…” he chuckled and released his friend’s mouth.
“You paled from your jealousy!” he teased him. “Not from jealousy, huh? You’re
trembling a bit…”
Surely, Bruce felt a bit dizzy and golden spots were dancing in his vision but
there was work to be done and he could manage.
“It’s nothing, Tony, really; I’m standing too much time, that’s all: I’ll sit
and I’ll be alright. I got work to do and you must learn everything…”
 Tony’s cheerful face became dead serious and strict.
“All these can be done from your soft, warm bed, after Alfred examines your
wound – that is bleeding again! For pity’s sake, Bruce! You lost more than two
liters of blood; give your body a break! You need a good rest and a nice
breakfast; when was the last time you ate?”
Bruce looked awkward at the little blood that had drenched both his pajama’s
shirt and his robe and then stared at his friend.
“I… ate a sandwich a worker gave me yesterday at noon …”
“Wow! I wonder how you didn’t become overweight!” Tony mocked him hard. “I’ll
bring your laptop upstairs and I’ll connect the bat-computer with it, so you’ll
have all the information in your bed..”
He saw his younger friend almost giggling and he savored the spectacle as when
he was watching his small friend laugh at the Manor’s garden.
“Really, Tony… The bat-computer?” he quirked an eyebrow at him.
Tony snorted.
“It’s not my fault that a 6’1’’ bat is a computer geek, you smart ass. Now up
we go! ‘Cause I have no intention on carrying you AGAIN; you’re not my dream
bride, you know…” he wrapped his arm around Bruce’s back to lead him to the
lift and simultaneously support him discreetly.
“Speaking of which, what did Pepper say for you staying so many hours away from
her?”
“Pepper trusts me.”
Bruce snorted.
“Nah! Pepper is a smart girl…”
“She is very worried about you” Tony told him seriously.
“You told her?”
“As you said, she is a smart girl: she knew I came to Gotham to see you and I
staying here could only be translated into you in danger. And she knows about
the Joker…”
They stepped in the lift and Bruce pressed the button.
“I’ll call her; the truth is I miss her… Not in a naughty way…”
The older man grinned.
“Little guy, you can’t steal a woman from me, even if you wanted!”
Bruce laughed and immediately bent a bit, clutching his wound; Tony tightened
his hold, pressing his lips.
“Besides she is coming here, too. We have many things to prepare.”
“You’re both staying here, right?” he inquired but his tone was resolute,
hiding the piercing pain from his irritated wound.
“You’ll guide us to Gotham’s night life?” Tony asked as they stepped to the
Manor’s corridor.
“If your idea of Gotham’s night lifeis the Narrows and the docks” Bruce
chuckled “They are the places I know best.”
Tony rolled his eyes.
“What a spree! By the way, do you know that you’re under police surveillance?”
 
Harvey was sipping his black coffee at his office, trying to keep his clear
thinking. It was a nightmare that began from last night and continued in the
morning! Joker had sent three thugs almost dead to the hospital and attacked
Bert; Batman caught him and gave him to them wrapped as a gift only for them to
lose him right through their fingers, five dead cops left behind.
He pulled his hair back. They have failed Batman! At least, Bruce was safe at
the Manor down with the flu – a very convenient twist amidst the chaos; despite
the detail they put secretly on him, he felt more sure with the last Wayne
locked inside his home-fortress.
Just a few minutes ago he spoke to the reporters to express his consolations to
the relatives of the fallen police officers, reassuring the people of Gotham
that they’d arrest that man and bring him to justice. At least, they had
Joker’s goons at MCU’s cells – another present from Batman -, although their
interrogation didn’t offer anything: the men were mentally disturbed, as Dr.
Quinzel, the new head of Arkham Asylum confirmed. He watched their
interrogations himself and without being an expert had the same notion… Also,
the men weren’t from Gotham which made identifying them more difficult; the
search in police’s archives around the country already fruitless.
He twisted between his fingers the bat shaped small blade police had found at
Bert’s living room; the disgusting reporter being scared shitless from the
encounter with Joker agreed to confess laundering money in order to be
protected, locked with a new identity in a federal prison in the other side of
the country. The DA office had prepared rapidly the paperwork and his
connections with the federal attorney office sent immediately Bert to safety.  
He had lowered the grilles so the knock on his door was a surprise.
“Mr. Dent, Mr. Fury asks to see you” Mary told him, her eyes regretful.
You’re fucking with me! Harvey exclaimed inwardly and stood.
“Bring him in.” He replied moody and walked towards the door.
Nick Fury entered and Mary closed the door; he was completely solemn without
his annoying smirk and self-satisfied air. He offered his hand for a handshake
and Harvey took it.
“You don’t have an appointment, I presume.”
“No, but I had told you that I’ll come.”
“It’s not the best of times, Mr. Fury” he said not without frustration and
showed him the armchair before his desk and sat himself.
“I know and I want to tell you how deeply I’m sorry for the dead police
officers and to offer you S.H.I.E.L.D.’s assistance to capture that dangerous
terrorist.”
Harvey wasn’t a fool and he felt insulted that Fury thought him as one: Fury
offering S.H.I.E.L.D.’s assistance to Gotham hadn’t come out of solidarity and
chivalry for the people or it may have some speck of that but the main reason
was to give them ‘jurisdiction’ to corner Batman and force him to join them.
Fury and his organization may be working for the common good and saving some
people but for them passing their will was the most important thing and Harvey
didn’t like how powerful they were becoming and what they could be preparing.
He smiled benevolently and looked the tough man in the eye.
“Thank you, Mr. Fury, your offer is much appreciated but” Fury smiled knowingly
at the ‘but’ like he was expecting it “this city was many years under the
dictatorship of a criminal, FBI had the city’s control till very recently and
Gotham needs to handle this crisis herself to regain her confidence back – to
feel again as an equal among the other big cities of this country. We’ll make
it.”
Fury tilted slightly his head, as if trying to gain the better ankle to look at
him with his only eye, and smiled with admiration; Harvey furrowing inwards.
“You’re a very inspired young man and a very avid believer in Gotham: I know of
a few men with that passion for this troubled city and they are, unlike you,
Gotham-born: Commissionaire Gordon, Bruce Wayne and Batman.”
Harvey felt that S.H.I.E.L.D.’s director was trying to fish him.
“I’m a man of justice, Mr. Fury; bringing Gotham back to the law’s path and
helping her citizen’s start living again peacefully and hopeful for the future
was my aspiration and dream…”
“This was the reason Batman chose you?” Fury leaned towards him.
Now Harvey didn’t hide his furrow.
“Batman?”
He nodded.
“Yeah, the local vigilante who appeared three years before Falcone’s downfall,
crippling him and forcing him to make the wrong move.” He blinked, mocking
ignorance. “Is acceptable a law enforcer to use information that are the
product of vigilantism? Because the one who gave you the information against
Falcone, gave also information on the League of Shadows that only an insider
could have.”
Harvey leaned completely amused at his chair’s back and knitted his fingers in
his lap.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know the legislation, Mr. Fury? But since you’re
feigning ignorance, let me tell you that I was approached and given the
information from Superman – which as far as I know isn’t a vigilante unless the
President and the General Assembly of UN are violating the law co-operating
with an outlaw… So if you have any doubts about the source of the information,
I suggest you ask Superman.”
Fury’s smile became a tight line and he focused his stare on the young DA.
“He gave you Joker last night at Adam Bert’s condo.”
Harvey was happy that he had stashed the Batarang in his drawer.
“GCPD didn’t officially state anything like this.”
“And before that, at Dolcettoanother incident with Joker took place; he injured
three outlaws but police came before he finished them off.” He pouted his lips.
“GCPD’s Narrows Division received a SOS signal from inside Dolcettoand rushed
there making Joker flee; also they found a man with mutilated hand still alive
thanks to the first aids someone applied to him…”
“Spying police’s communications is a felony.”
“Who might have called police from Dolcettowhile Joker was threatening him? And
saving the thugs’ life just when cops flooded the place without seeing
anything?” Fury licked his lip. “Either there was a ghost who saved people’s
life – a ghost who has and uses gadgets -, or Batman was there…”
“Interesting theory” Harvey commented uninterested.
Fury began manifesting signs of unrest and hastiness.
“There and at Bert’s apartment evidence must exist for Batman’s true identity –
traces of his DNA or other things” his gaze and his voice were greedy yet
Harvey’s eyes were flat.
The young DA stayed silent for a minute, waiting the agent to continue, and
when he didn’t, he smiled.
“Do you honestly expect me to give you access to crime scenes?” his voice was
amused and annoyed at the same time. “That’s out of the question, Mr. Fury!”
Fury stood and loomed over Harvey.
“You’re covering an outlaw?”
Harvey’s eyes were undeterred.
“Mr. Fury, either resume your seat or leave my office” he said quietly but
determined and when S.H.I.E.L.D.’s director did sit down. “You’re not truly
trying to remind me the law, or even worse, threaten me, aren’t you? I’m not
covering outlaws, Mr. Fury, for that you have no job intervening with DA’s or
GCPD’s activities and investigation and if you attempt to, I’ll be forced to
ask you to leave our beautiful city or worse.”
Fury shook his head.
“All these aggressiveness because you think I threaten your local vigilante?”
Harvey furrowed his brows and leaned towards him irritated.
“What you call ‘aggressiveness’ is a state official’s devotion to the laws and
the Constitution; it’s a pity that S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t the state’s priority.”
Fury nodded, swallowing his wounded pride.
“Bruce Wayne was the one who proposed the use of the SOS transmitter for the
Narrows’ residents.”
Harvey remembered what Gordon said to him about S.H.I.E.L.D.’s interest in
Wayne. He nodded.
“Exactly and thanks to the Wayne Enterprises’ donation at least 10,000 people
carry that gadget with them, thus saving many lives.”
Fury tilted his head.
“What’s your opinion about Bruce Wayne?”
Harvey stopped his eyes from rolling.
“My position doesn’t allow me to express opinions on citizens.”
The DA stood, his expression dismissing the agent and Fury did the same.
“I talked with you and answered your questions though I didn’t have to, but now
I have to ask you to end that… interview, because urgent matters demand my
attention.”
“Of course, Mr. Dent” he stretched his hand and Harvey shook it, despite his
dislike.
Fury walked to the door.
“Mr. Fury” the agent turned “I trust that you won’t harass the citizens of
Gotham, especially the most vulnerable; otherwise I’ll take legal action
against you and your… organization.”
Fury nodded and smiled.
“Although I respect his sensitive condition, I don’t consider Mr. Wayne among
the most vulnerable. Good luck, Mr. Dent, and thank you for your time.”
Harvey’s grim stare followed Fury leaving his hands holding his waist. The last
thing he wanted was Fury messing with Batman when the city needed him so much:
he didn’t want the hero fighting Joker and the other menaces, having his back
exposed to S.H.I.E.L.D. And Bruce Wayne? Why people didn’t leave the man in
peace to heal his wounds?
 
Leslie Thompkins was driving her small Ford through the green scenery of the
Palisades, her mood in complete contrast with the happy spring nature.
It was half past ten in the morning and she should have been in her clinic with
her patients and she was there until some minutes ago. But then he heard on the
small TV set at the nurses’ station that Bruce Wayne was down with the flu and
immediately left the clinic to come to the Manor. Either Bruce manifested
symptoms of something that those bastards left to him, or he was injured during
his nightly activities. She was angry with him in each case; if it was the
first, she was angry because he still refused to be examined, although he told
her that he’ll come. If it was the second, she was angry they didn’t call her,
especially Alfred.
She was sitting at her suffocating, nearly derelict office at her lumbering
clinic, sipping her coffee to brace herself for another difficult day after a
difficult night. She heard her door opening with a squeak and turned to see
Alfred cool as always but his distress was clear to her who knew the man for
decades and especially in the most tragic of situations.
“Good morning, Leslie” he greeted her politely.
“The same to you, Alfred, but in this place no day is good… What brings you
here this time of day?” Alfred came often to the free clinic to see her and
offer his help but never so early in the morning – the sun had barely risen.
Alfred approached her tiny crammed with files and bills desk and pulled out of
his jacket a vial of blood. Leslie furrowed and detached her glasses to leave
them on the file she was reading. Her long time friend gave her the vial.
“What’s that, Alfred?”
“Blood, Leslie…” he shrugged.
She snorted.
“Thank you for the information! What is it that you want me to do?”
“It needs to be tested for diseases.”
His voice was hesitant as if he was afraid and Alfred wasn’t afraid except
when… Her heart gave a jolt but all these years of silent bitterness drowned
the hope.
“For what kind of diseases you want me to examine it? I mean there are some
specific symptoms or you want a custom test?”
He shook his head.
“I would have said examine it for every disease there is yet the most urgent
is” he sighed “an examination for sexually transmitted diseases.”
Leslie nodded and caressed the vial with her thumb.
“Is not for you, right?” she inquired smoothly.
Alfred lowered his eyes, obviously struggling with himself and Leslie stormed
from her lopsided chair that was held together with duct tape and lowered the
jalousie, giving them the most privacy she could.
“No” he answered determinedly, deciding that it was time to tell her.
She approached him and looked him in the eyes though she had to yank her head.
“He is alive, right?” she was hardly keeping her voice steady and her eyes
clear.
Alfred couldn’t pronounce it so he just nodded. Leslie brought her hands in her
face: little Bruce was alive! After all these years that she believed him dead…
Thomas’ and Martha’s child, their little angel hadn’t died… She considered
herself a tough, unyielding woman but now her eyes were leaking. Twelve years
had passed; he must be a young man now. Her heart was dancing with
anticipation; she would see again those almond shaped sparkling sweet eyes…
“Why you didn’t bring him with you?” she whispered.
Alfred gave her an astonished glimpse and then she saw the sudden remembrance
that she didn’t know what he did.
“How did he survive? Someone found him and raised him without knowing who he
is? He grown up in the streets suffering from amnesia? Because otherwise he’d
have come to me” she tried to make it easier for him.
But he was shaking his head in negation, his lips trembling.
“No, Leslie; I didn’t bring him with me because he is a prisoner.” Her heart
shattered like a glass. “Falcone kept the child alive all these years.”
She brought her palm on her mouth; that was awful: that sweet boy growing in
the hands of his parents’ murderer because although she didn’t have any proofs,
she was sure that he had killed the family after forcing them to hand their
fortune. And then she remembered Alfred’s words: ‘sexually transmitted
diseases’. No…
She locked eyes with Alfred who was watching her expression’s changes and held
his upper arms.
“What is he doing to our poor kid, Alfred?” she whispered her hatred for the
mobster and affection for Bruce oozing from her voice and eyes.
“He is using him, Leslie; he was using him from the start and he wasn’t the
only one…”
She saw how much drained Alfred was; how painful it was for him to even
pronounce the word and what ‘use’ had Falcone and his thugs for Bruce. She
closed her eyes with despair; poor Bruce was always a very beautiful boy.
“I…I’ll test his blood for everything I can” she managed to stabilize her
voice. “But to be sure I need to fully examine him…”
And she still didn’t manage to examine Bruce. The time passing against him and
thinking of possible infections and vulnerabilities of his organism was
maddening her.
Her trained eyes caught two cars parked among the trees, in a distance from the
Manor but with a clear view to it. Police detail after Joker’s threats against
Bruce; their boy would be annoyed but he’ll manage to escape them. He smiled
remembering the first time the youth came to her, slipping the mobster’s
surveillance.
“Leslie?” she heard a shy voice as an echo from her long past and she
shuddered.
She had gone to the basement where she had moved her few properties after
selling her house to finance the clinic. Tony after his parents’ deaths was
financing the clinic yet Falcone was stealing the most of the money so only a
minor part of the money reached her and besides she didn’t want to live
anywhere else. She was ready to get inside her bedroom – a storage she turned
into bedroom – when a light breath stopped her in her heels.
Alfred had told her that Bruce would come to her… She turned and without being
able to discern clearly the boy behind the waterfall in front of her eyes, she
surged to him and wrapped him in her arms, searching his torso for any signs of
injuries or broken bones. But thankfully there was none.
He had hesitated for an instant and then embraced her; he was shaking a bit but
not crying and Leslie was certain that the boy all these years was drained from
tears.
She held his upper arms and was surprised by the muscles there: Falcone wanted
a beautiful body to use. She wiped her eyes and looked at the face she had
dreamt of.
He was beautiful and not because she craved so many years to see him again. He
was a splendid mix of Thomas and Martha. His blossoming youth and beauty were
radiating even in the semi darkness the bare bulb of the corridor permitted,
but his eyes were so tired… She pressed her lips, understanding…
“We must take you away from Falcone” it was the first thing she uttered,
although she was thinking so many things to say and ask but the thought of what
the horrible mobster was doing to the youth was stabbing her mind.
“It’ll take time, Leslie; but we’ll make it” he smiled restricted and her heart
bled: it wasn’t the radiant smile of the little Bruce that was running in the
clinic’s corridors, helping and speaking with people.
She saw in his eyes’ shinning sadness that he had read her thoughts; she was a
fool: the boy had seen his parents killed, had been humiliated, imprisoned,
tortured, raped, and God knows what more for years and she had the demand to
stay the happy, full of hope kid she knew?
She took his face in her wrinkled hands and caressed his cheeks with despair.
“You’re alive, Bruce and we are here; you’re not alone anymore… everything will
be alright now…”
He smiled to her and his eyes were for an instant the happy eyes she knew…
But as the gates to the Manor’s grounds opened she decided that today she will
be angry with that boy.
 
***** Chapter 25 *****
"What are you doing there, farmboy?” Lois’ teasing voice surged his ears as she
sneaked on him.
These games his super hearing was playing with him were becoming really
annoying: while he could hear easily the heartbeats of people miles away,
especially, Bruce’s (although, from their last one -sided quarrel he decided to
cut the habit) at times he failed to hear people approaching. Not always but
sometimes and that could be proved very dangerous, as two days ago. Maybe being
so much in love and sad for that reason caused hormones’ disturbances that
affected his powers; he should check it with the Fortress’ data on Kryptonians…
Thankfully, he wasn’t watching something embarrassing on his computer at Daily
Planet, so this time Lois’ innocent – as if anything Lois does is innocent…-
sneaking didn’t have repercussions.
His friend sat on his already small desk, snatching his pen and knitting it in
her finger.
“I hoped you were watching Bruce Wayne’s statements about that crazy criminal…”
she said disappointed.
Clark rolled his eyes. Please, not that name, it’s already difficult not stalk
him…
“Since you were down with the flu yesterday, I guess you didn’t watch much TV”
she continued her blubber ignorant to his turmoil. “That man is full of
surprises: two months ago, he was just a pleasure slave, a beautiful doll not
allowed to speak and now he plays the press in his lean fingers. He is very
clever, although Falcone’s treatment should have left him at least retarded…”
she raised her eyebrows mocking shock. “Am I bothering you? It’s that I know
how fond you are of him…” she added supposedly innocently, teasing her friend.
Clark blinked and looked her with his eyes widening behind his oversized
glasses.
“Me? Fond of him?” he laughed and shook his head amused. “Sometimes, Lois,
you’re carried away from your appetite for stories…”
She pouted her lips and snorted, completely unconvinced.
“He was dashing, as always, and he had the air of a real Prince as he was
‘playing’ with Gotham’s brute press. His eyes smiled when he recognized me…”
she said with a taunting way.
He smiles at anyone but me… Clark thought and wanted to sigh but instead
resumed reading the text on the screen, sipping his coffee.
“Too bad he is down with the flu” she stressed her words, obviously wanting to
provoke a reaction from Clark who fought the impulse to turn to her: obviously,
it wasn’t a flu that had him down and he couldn’t fly immediately to him...
“Gotham’s press howls about that, suggesting that he cowers after the new
antics of Joker; I, on the other hand, suspect that you gave him your flu!”
Clark almost choked on his coffee and looked at Lois who erupted to giggles.
“If you haven’t reacted at this, too, I’d have to take you to a doctor!” she
stopped laughing to catch her breath, indifferent to some stares from the other
offices. “However, you must admit, that this is a hell of a coincidence…”
Clark cleaned his glasses from some drops of coffee that splattered the lenses
and taking in Lois’ persistent gaze, he turned his face to her, after he wore
his glasses.
“Lois, I got work to do; why are you taunting me?” he snapped.
She stood up from his desk, crossing her arms on her chest, posing as insulted.
“Taunting you? Where’s your humor, farmboy?” she smiled. “Com’ on, why the bad
mood? Has Vale written that Bruce had someone in his bedroom last night? She is
a bitch; don’t believe her…” she waved her hand dismissively.
That wouldn’t have been completely a lie… He raised an eyebrow, remembering
Bruce’s cute head beside him and the feeling of his silken hair in his weak
fingers… Oh, Lois! Don’t take me there…
 “Listen, Lois; I respect Mr. Wayne but I’m not fond of him” he stuttered “at
least not the way you mean it. Look, yesterday’s illness left me behind in some
deadlines and I have some other things to take care of, so…”
She tilted her head, looking at the screen.
“Is this…”
Clark nodded.
“I’m looking for any info about Luthor’s deal with Dagget; it’s about Dagget’s
mines in Africa and only two years ago Luthor had refused to invest becoming a
partner to these mines because the deal was unprofitable…” he crooked his
finger touching his lips.
It flashed to Lois.
“You believe that Dagget found something that got Luthor’s attention and we all
know what always gets Luthor’s attention…”
“Kryptonite.” He nodded.
“And maybe through Dagget, Luthor will try to gain Wayne Enterprises,
orchestrating a coup against Bruce – he never forgot that knee in the groin and
his humiliation.”
Clark shook his head uncertain.
“Hm… I don’t know; it’s difficult to undermine Mr. Wayne at the moment. But…
Luthor collaborating with Dagget surely is something notable and worthy of
watching.”
 
“These premises” Bruce pointed at the image from Google Earth “belonged to a
Miranda Tate” he opened another window and showed the picture of a gorgeous
raven haired woman.
He was sitting on his bed, the warm blankets covering his lower body. He wore a
new pair of pajamas, the old one waiting at the chair with a dark smudge of
blood to be taken for laundry. Alfred had cleaned the blood from his wound –
fortunately, the stitches were in their place, the small bleeding caused by
some scratches at the edges from his movements.
On the small table at the center of the room lay the silver tray with the empty
plates and glasses of a good breakfast for two that was much appreciated.
His dizziness had subsided a bit and the golden spots in his vision had
lessened; he still ran some fever but it didn’t hinder him from searching with
his notebook placed on his lap and Tony on the armchair beside the bed.
“Nice chick!” Tony exclaimed and raised the eyebrows to Bruce’s sideways
glance. “What?” he raised his hands. “And she sold them to Stane?”
He pressed his lips and his fingers flew over the keyboard, opening files.
“The premises were sold to an off shore” he had opened a new file with her tax
return.
“The lady has quite the fortune, huh? So to whom the off shore belongs?”
Bruce shook his head.
“To a ghost – conglomerate; I met it many times when I was searching Falcone’s
secret deals” he saw Tony furrowing his brows. “No, it isn’t related with
Falcone, but…” his eyes glistened as he pressed some keys and a new window
popped, a tight child-like smile radiating his concentrated face “it is related
to Lex Luthor.”
Tony made an angry grimace.
“So this bastard is working with Stane to create a weapon and hit us!” He shook
his head. “He never got over that you humiliated him!”
Bruce completely calm raised an eyebrow.
“He told me that you’re an unreliable protector…”
“So, he proposed to be your protector in exchange of…Ugh! I wish I had thrown
him to a dump!”
The younger man just nodded, absorbed in the flood of opened windows on his
screen.
“We don’t have proofs that they indeed work together; money has been
transferred to the off shore’s account the day the sale was made, so there’s a
visible link between Luthor and Stane’s activities.”
But Tony was still fuming.
“You don’t believe that it’s just a coincidence…”
“Of course not, Luthor could have agreed with Stane to give him the premises to
help him manufacture what he is manufacturing, without knowing what it is…” his
friend’s annoyance caught his frantically moving eyes “I’m just making the
Devil’s Advocate, Tony… On the other hand, the money transfer could be iconic
and Luthor is indeed in the whole plot…Wait…”
His voice was cool but Tony detected his elevation and the cautious choice of
buttons. Bruce gestured to him to read the data on the screen.
“I still don’t know a lot about business administration but I think that this
means…”
Tony narrowed his eyes.
“That all these data about the sale were registered only a month ago disguised
to look older and that includes the sale from Miss Tate; so Luthor got
interested in those conveniently secluded premises after the incident at Malibu
and even if he is ignorant about Stane’s plans – which I doubt – he acted as a
buffer for Stane.’’
Bruce opened again Miranda Tate’s picture; his stare thoughtful.
“And we can’t ignore the new, unknown, factor in the equation; something tells
me that she isn’t just an Oxford graduate of Philosophy and Economics.”
“If she is so rich, I should have known her; meet her somewhere, hear about
her… I don’t like such secrecy: it reminds me of the villains in the James Bond
movies.”
Bruce hit him gently on the head.
“How Pepper bears with you?”
“The same way as you, only she uses her stilettos: if you feel my scalp, you’ll
find craters as in the moon’s surface… Com’ on, guys; I’m life’s joy
incarnated!”
Bruce’s eyes sobered as he stared at his friend’s cheerful face, his laugh
making him happy too.
“Indeed, you are…” he replied admiring.
However, Tony taking in his friend’s sudden melancholy licked his lip.
“Com’ on, little guy; don’t get cloudy when the sun is shining…”
Surely, it was another beautiful, sunshine day in Gotham and birds were clearly
heard tweeting through the raised curtains of the huge window.
“I don’t; how can I be cloudy when you brought the Californian sun with you?”
Tony pressed a key and every window was minimized to leave only the wallpaper;
their last photo taken in the grand salon of the Manor, the Christmas before.
Bruce lowered his eyes and Tony laid his hand on his shoulder.
“We’ll stop them, Bruce; whatever they are plotting… And with the information
you told me about Al Ghul’s horrible practices, I’ll start ASAP working with
Lucius to stop that.”
Bruce sighed.
“I wonder what Luthor knows about this…”
“How can he know about this?”
He shrugged.
“Maybe he doesn’t; but the bullet that pierced Superman was of an unknown
variety of Kryptonite that reacts more strongly to my cells and just few days
ago Luthor signed a deal with Dagget about one of his mines… And then there’s
the one who shot Superman.”
“We don’t know that person” he took in Bruce’s sparkling eyes “or do we?”
“Last night I gathered evidence from the rooftop where the assassin shot
Superman: a footprint and powder from the weapon he used.”
Tony frowned.
“All these while you’re bleeding…” his exasperation competed with his
disbelief.
Bruce just nodded.
“Mike Toledo was found dead in an alley the first hours of dawn.”
“And?”
“The footprint I found matches his shoes – size, model, brand – and the gun
powder in the crime scene matches the gun he uses in his ‘jobs’. Plus, he was
Dagget’s favorite assassin; and the smartest… I knew him from Falcone’s days.”
The older man nodded thoughtful.
“So, he killed his hit man to silence him.”
Bruce pressed his lips, perusing the pictures of Toledo’s body from the
Police’s database.
“I don’t think so, Tony. Dagget had a partnership of decades with Toledo and
trusted him: someone else killed him after interrogating him…” he pointed with
his index finger to the marks on Toledo’s face.
“So someone found out about the attempt against Superman and captured the hit
man to learn the details: an ally of Luthor’s who was left out of the plan or a
competitor?”
“That remains to be seen… The sure thing is that Luthor has Dagget’s support,
he assisted Stane with his plans and there’s the possibility of him having
another ally…”
Tony fumed.
“The son of the bitch! He recruited all our enemies to take his revenge.” His
teeth grinded; suddenly, he frowned. “Do you reckon that Joker is their
creation, too? This obsession with you could be aiming to unsettle you. Maybe
he killed Toledo?”
He shook his head in negation and opened a file with screen caps of Joker from
the video of Falcone’s murder.
“Superman told me that Joker attacked Luthor in his office, because…” he
hesitated “he had harassed me. He threw him out of the window.”
Tony sniggered and his eyes glistened.
“Joker is loose cannon” Bruce focused his eyes on a close up to Joker’s face.
“He works alone; and after our… meeting, having seen his face so closely, the
feeling that I’ve seen him again is stronger.”
“The video with Falcone.”
“No, before that.”
Tony frowned.
“Do you think he is disguised? Maybe one of Falcone’s thugs  gone mad?”
Bruce turned his gaze on Tony.
“I don’t know, Tony… But I don’t think he is disguised – I mean he is painted
but the scars are real.”
“You have his DNA now, his end is near.”
“I wish I had the same certainty… I have the feeling that the DNA won’t help…
I’ll try the face pattern, the eyes…”
Tony looked at the photos.
“He acts like an actor, a professional, a comedian; he loves to perform: an
actor who failed and went nuts because of that and now uses your ‘fame’ to
enjoy with murders the limelight he didn’t achieve otherwise? Huh?”
Bruce was looking him with admiration.
“Jack Napier?” the name popped up automatic.
Tony tilted his head.
“Com’ on, Bruce; I know that he is an asshole, that he insulted you and I’m mad
at him for that but he isn’t a murderer. He is a little eccentric…”
“A little?”
“But I know the guy from before his fame, from the days he was a stand up
comedian; he had a drink problem” Bruce wanted to ask if they met because of
their common passion but decided against it “and he spent a couple of months to
a clinic to rehab. As it was proved once he cut alcohol, success was easy for
him.”
Bruce opened his mouth to say something but the door’s opening stopped him.
Leslie Thompkins clutching her doctor’s bag entered the room, Alfred flushed
following her. She seemed really angry and Tony sank in his armchair,
pretending to whistle innocently.
“The boys are playing Nintendo?” her voice was snarky and both young men felt
trepidation.
“Nintendo is actually outdated, Sony Playstation 4…” a stabbing glare from
Leslie made Tony stay agape and Bruce looked at him with widened eyes, saying
‘whatever you say you’ll be used against you – it’s basic, Tony’.
“Good morning, Leslie” Bruce said solemnly to the furious woman.
Yet her eyes passed him as if he was invisible.
“You don’t talk to me! You, on the other hand” her sharp eyes pierced Alfred
who hastily took Bruce’s stained pajamas in his hands, Leslie however noticed
the blood. “I didn’t expect that from you, Alfred! You’re letting that foolish
boy commit suicide firstly by letting him avoid necessary medical care and
second by not calling me when he…” she gulped “he got stabbed or shot. And I’m
learning it from Gotham’s stupid gossip shows! How could you, Alfred? You’re
serious, how you let yourself be erred” Tony mouthed the word with widened in
disbelief eyes secretly to Bruce “by that brat and the impossible Tony Stark?”
Tony raised his hands in surrender and blinked innocently.
“I swear this time I did nothing: on the contrary, I suggested taking Bruce to
you or getting you here from the start…”
Bruce gave him a glare.
“Bootlicker!” he whispered mock aggressively and Tony shrugged.
Yet Leslie didn’t seem appeased.
“He didn’t have the chance to learn how precious his life is but what is your
excuse? Do you want to lose him again after all these years?! For Goodness’
sake, Alfred, that was irresponsible!”
Tony awkward was flapping his ear with his fingers but Bruce seeing Alfred
sorrowful couldn’t stand being silent.
“Leslie, it’s not Alfred’s fault neither Tony’s; if anyone deserves your scold,
that’s me… I could have come to you from the beginning” he was apologizing
still his voice was steady and cool.
“What you didn’t understand of ‘you don’t talk to me’?” she snapped without
looking at him, although Alfred could detect her inner struggle to abandon her
wrath.
She jerked her head and locked her gaze with Alfred’s.
“I understand that for him” her voice was hoarse at the ‘him’, “I’m
nonexistent, so much that he says things to me that he doesn’t mean, only to
fool me and get rid of me, but you, Alfred? Besides I don’t ask to be seen as
his parents’ friend and one of the people who love him; only as a doctor who
wants to keep him alive, is it too much?”
Alfred regained his posture.
“Leslie, I don’t think that any of us meant any disrespect to you; it was a
crisis and during a crisis mistakes happen. But I assure you that neither I nor
Master Anthony will let him leave us again; I took every precaution and if
anything worrisome had come up, I was ready to call you.”
Leslie rubbed her forehead.
“You’re very important to me, Leslie” Bruce’s solemn voice broke the silence.
“You’re right to be angry but this was the only way; I’m sorry I made you feel
like this.”
“Which of the two was: bullet or knife?” she asked her old friend still not
giving a glance to Bruce but clearly calmer.
“Knife” Alfred replied calm.
“How much blood he lost?”
“A little more than two liters” Leslie shook her head exasperated and Alfred
hurried to add “I made blood transfusion.”
“Neither you nor Mr. Stark have the same blood type with him.”
Tony stood up.
“Com’ on, Leslie, not ‘Mr. Stark’, am I not your naughty Anthony?’’ he blinked
playful.
A poisonous glance from Leslie made him shut his mouth abruptly and sit down
again.
“Master Bruce had stashed some bottles of his own blood for such cases.”
Leslie raised an eyebrow.
“He plans to be stabbed often…”
She turned and hurried to the bed and Tony feared that she would hit Bruce’s
head with her bag. Instead she took the notebook from Bruce’s lap and placed it
on the nightstand; then she sat on the mattress, taking a bit roughly Bruce’s
hand and touching her fingers on his vein to examine his pulse.
The young man was staring at her affectionately, her gentle touch sending a
warm feeling deep in his heart.
“Leslie, I’m the only responsible and… I’m sorry I made you feel like this.”
“Your heart is a bit arrhythmic” she snapped without looking at him because she
knew that if she looked at his eyes, her wrath would evaporate. “When Falcone
was ruling the city and you wanted to save people, you came to me” she raised
her eyes to glower at him, his paleness clenching her heart. “But you didn’t
trust me enough to save you!” her bitterness was painful for Bruce.
“I trust you, Leslie, but then there were hardly five people in the clinic; now
are too many. And even then I was coming only in dire need. I don’t want to
endanger you.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I can keep my secrets and you would have avoided such a blood loss. And what’s
your excuse for lying to me about these fucking examinations?”
Bruce furrowed his brows.
“I didn’t lie; but with Joker on the loose my presence there would make the
clinic a target. I don’t want people to be in danger because of me.”
She nodded.
“My clinic was always a target. Pull up your shirt.”
He obeyed and she began palpating the area around the tightly stitched wound.
“Joker is nothing like Falcone’s goons… Speaking of which, do you have any
information about the condition of those thugs he injured last night?”
Leslie opened her bag and pulled out a gadget for measuring the glucose levels
in the blood.
“Alfred, you made a splendid job with the stitches and there’s no sign of
infection, at least externally.”
She massaged the edge of Bruce’s index finger and pierced it with a sterile
needle, oozing the blood drop on the special strip she attached to the device’s
holder. Then, she pressed a piece of cotton drenched in alcohol to the small
prick.
“You were there, too, don’t you?” her smart eyes focused on his eyes. “The
doctors are optimistic; they are in the ICU but their condition is stable. The
one with the maimed hand would have died if someone hadn’t stopped the
bleeding: you did it, right?” her eyebrows were furrowed, her eyes
investigating.
“Yes, he did” Tony who wanted to speak offered. “That thug had stabbed him.”
Leslie tilted her head and Bruce cast a sideways glare to Tony, moving his lips
to form traitor.
“She called me ‘Mr. Stark’!” he explained apologetic.
“Look at me, young man” the doctor told him. “You saved the man who tried to
kill you; you stopped his bleeding while your blood was drained from your
body.”
“It wasn’t so dramatic!” Bruce protested and Leslie cupped his cheek.
“You should be a doctor, Bruce… Your parents would have been so proud of you,
as I am!”
Thankfully, her little gadget beeped and Bruce didn’t have to say anything.
Leslie’s lips were pouted.
“Your glucose levels are below the normal…”
“He just ate, Leslie” Alfred commented.
“That’s not enough; his organism faced a shock last night, he lost too much
blood. Can you make him another orange juice? And if his glucose remains so
low, I’ll inject him some glucagon.”
Afterwards, she took his blood pressure and auscultated him; Bruce already
manifesting signs of discomfort and Tony patting his hand soothingly.
“It’s traumatic to you, isn’t it?” Leslie asked him condescending.  “Even if
the doctor examining you it’s me…” she sighed and pressed her lips “Is that why
you don’t want to be examined? Your pulse elevated since I started. What
monstrous doctor was treating you…”
“Wow! That’s what we call a ‘Black Hole’! You seem to have had a terrific
night, Mr. Wayne! But what your parents will say when they learn this? A Prince
acting like the worse slut… Oh! You’re too soft, little Prince.”
Bruce heard his doctor’s sneering voice and hardly caught himself from jolting.
He shook his head in dismissal.
“I…I can handle the exams; it’s from the blood loss, as you said. I’ll come to
do those tests, Leslie…”
She caressed his forehead and Alfred who just returned to the room with a small
tray carrying a glass of orange juice, approached worried.
“It’s everything alright?” he inquired putting the tray on the nightstand.
“He is a bit warm…” Leslie answered.
Alfred gave to Bruce the glass.
“Infection?” his breath was a bit caught.
“The wound is clean yet his organism isn’t immunized so anything is possible.
I’ll give you some antibiotics until we make the tests and know exactly his
needs.”
Tony stood up.
“I say we take Bruce and do that damn tests immediately.”
Leslie for the first time smiled to him.
“I want his body to recover before the examinations so that the results won’t
be affected. I think two or three days will be enough…”
Bruce just nodded thoughtful. It was times like this, when everyone around him
expressed their love, that he felt his loneliness heavier, like his heart was a
small dried area with deep cracks that no amount of love could close them…
 
Rachel was sat in front of the TV set tuned at GCN, reading the contract Napier
signed with the Gotham’s Opera House; today was his big day. She snorted. The
theater would be full to its capacity: the eternal Gotham ready to laugh with
her Prince’s tortures… She shook her head: Jack was right about people. She
brushed almost violently a stuffed animal half buried to the elegant sofa of
her hotel room.
She wore her blond wing which was so similar with her real hair.
Dent didn’t call her which was expected after the last night’s mess but still
made her feel frustrated, not due to Joker’s certain disappointment; she didn’t
like failure. Nowadays, because the past years she just didn’t give a shit.
GCN was broadcasting Dent’s statement about the cops’ murders and she sniggered
at his mention of Joker’s sure capture. Poor Harv…
Someone knocked on her door and she stood lazily, her shirt barely reaching the
middle of her thighs. For pity’s sake! Room service at half past seven in the
evening?
She opened and her eyes widened, seeing Gotham’s DA in front of her a nice posy
in his hand, smiling at her. She remembered the blond wing and the shirt, the
only thing she wore and made to pull the wing of her head but Harvey stopped
her.
“I think the blond hair suits you spectacularly!”
Her hand instead of pulling violently the wing, caressed it.
“You think?” she inquired awkwardly. “Isn’t making me look like” she chuckled
“a porn star?”
Harvey laughed.
“Who told you that nonsense?”
“Never mind, com’ in.”
She led him to the small living room and Harvey offered her the beautiful posy.
“As an apology for not calling. Things are crazy and to add to this madness…”
he was ready to tell her about Fury but stopped himself. “Anyway, I have one or
two hours free, so if you don’t have anything better to do, I came to take you
for a coffee” he smiled.
Rachel took the posy which consisted of multicolored roses and pushed herself
to react as most women would. She caressed the flowers and smelled them
elegantly, while he fought the urge to throw them carelessly behind the sofa.
“They are wonderful. Thank you, but you didn’t have to… I understand; your job
is very demanding, especially in a city like this. As for your offer…” she
smiled satisfied. “Give me ten minutes to wear something and we go.”
Harvey smirked and blushed.
“If I can give my saying, I found you perfect with your current outfit…” he
ruffled his brown-blond locks.
Rachel cast a glance at her navy blue cotton shirt and smiled lopsided, her
eyes sharp.
“I see that Gotham’s DA is a naughty boy…” she moved her index figure mock
scolding and walked to the bedroom, aware that Harvey struggled not following
her buttocks’ movements.
She half closed the door.
“There’s a mini bar by the desk; help yourself till I get dressed” she said
from the bedroom.
“Thank you.”
He chose a soda and filled the glass.
“To tell you the truth, I was certain that you wouldn’t be here. I thought that
due to your boss’ premiere you would have gone to the Opera House.”
“Nah! He doesn’t need me…”
“You won’t go to his ‘big night’?”
“I don’t fancy his sick sense of humor, although I work for him. And what he
did with Bruce Wayne’s horrible past is unforgivable… Why you didn’t stop him?”
“I wish I could, but I can’t censor theater. And Wayne didn’t want to press
charges or request a restraining order beforehand – maybe after this
abomination’s premiere he changes his mind.”
The idiot, Rachel whispered.
Harvey’s stare stopped at the stuffed animal and he dag it out.
“Eeyore is your favorite character from Winnie the Pooh? Mine was The Rabbit…”
he laughed.
She came out of the bedroom almost running and took the stuffed animal from
Harvey’s hands, hiding it behind one of the pillows of the sofa. Harvey noticed
how upset she was and Rachel smiled flushed.
“It’s actually a gift… I’m ready, Mr. Dent.”
Harvey perused her. She wore a dark blue business suit consisted of a short
tight jacket and form fitting pants, covering the broad, short heels of her
black dressing shoes. From the wide cleavage of the jacket, a silken white
shirt was seen, its buttons to the chest undone. She had gotten rid of her
blond wing and her curly brown-red hair sweetened her brown eyes.
“Well?” she asked Harvey. “It’s the best I could do in ten minutes.”
Harvey was still staring at her.
“You’re gorgeous!” he goggled at her.
“Shall we go?” she laughed sweetly and he offered her his upper arm, Rachel
fighting the urge to roll her eyes.
Harvey chose a small two-story cozy Café which looked at Saint Mary’s Park’s
enchanting rose garden; every color of rose and even some unique colors and
combinations of colors were there, placed in such a way that created a
magnificent, one of a kind spectacle. Among the flowerbeds, arches covered with
blossoms topped the stone tiled passages who led to the center of the park; a
round shaped square where a marbled fountain rose; in its middle, a beautiful
white angel was crying for his broken wings, his tears filling the small pond
with blue topaz water.
When they sat at the second floor of the Café, which had a panoramic view of
the park, the pale white spotlights at the fountain’s perimeter were lit.
People were still sat at the wooden, elegant benches, watching the charming
spectacle and inhaling the intoxicating aroma of the roses, enhanced by the
scent of the spring evening. Some threw wheat seeds to the pigeons.
Harvey took in Rachel’s intense gaze at the park; she seemed too absorbed and
he smiled.
“It’s one of Gotham’s most beautiful places” he remarked and she left her
nirvana.
“It’s weird that people aren’t afraid to stay in the park even after dark…” she
commented.
“They feel safe now that Falcone’s rule has ended and clean officers of the law
protect them.” He smiled. “Or it is because of the angel, protecting them…”
Rachel snorted.
“In our world, there are people who still believe in angels?” she shook her
head in disbelief. “Still it’s remarkably beautiful especially the way those
spotlights brush the angel…”
A waitress brought their coffees and desserts and left them alone.
“How did you know of that place?” she asked him.
Harvey couldn’t tell her that they were coming there with his mother and
father, though he wanted to.
“Some colleagues suggested it.”
She nodded and looked again at the park from the glass wall.
“It reminds me the park inside the campus at Harvard; it wasn’t so beautiful
but I used to go there at the evenings with a cup of coffee” actually, it was
cheap bourbon “and think…”
“I was gazing at it from the School of Laws’ upper storey…”
Rachel took a forkful of lemon pie.
“You still don’t remember me, do you?” she asked amused.
Harvey looked dumbfounded and ruffled his hair, yet Rachel’s carefree smile
relieved him.
“It doesn’t matter” she reassured him “I wasn’t the most notable student; as a
matter of fact I preferred staying invisible. But I remember you: you were a
prominent student and quite popular; I guess it’s your athletic posture…”
Harvey touched her hand on the table.
“I wish we had met then…”
A shadow passed over Rachel’s features.
“I don’t!” she snapped and hurried to mollify the impression of her answer. “I
was different then; I had nothing of interest.”
“I doubt that” he replied. “Don’t think that I was better… I don’t know what my
image was but I was a troubled young man.”
She laughed.
“I remember when Professor Hunderberg entered the theater for the lecture and
he asked why the hall was dark and you answered him that he still wore his
sunglasses…”
Harvey burst into laughter remembering the old professor’s flabbergasted look.
“I don’t believe it that you remember that incident! Poor Hunderberg… I was
almost always angry then…”
Rachel’s cunning eyes shone with interest; she could get some information from
the DA that Joker would find useful.
“Why? You were a celebrated student with a scholarship; you had many friends
and girls were admiring you.”
“You’re exaggerating…” he sighed. “Many personal and family problems.”
Rachel understood his hesitance to confide in her.
“At least, now things are better?” she asked with interest and put her hand on
his.
“Yes, they are; now I’m calm.”
She smiled lopsided.
“And just when you found your peace that Joker-guy popped up to terrorize
people.”
Harvey’s face sobered.
“Gotham’s people are brave and durable; they will make it again.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I think you’re overestimating them” her voice was dry. “Look at Napier’s
premiere; is a sold out although they knew that his performance would ridicule
a man who has suffered so much and still is a benefactor. I bet you believed
that Gothamites won’t go…” she smirked and shook her head.
Harvey stayed silent for a minute; surely, he was disappointed too, not to say
angry at Gothamites’ behavior.
“I guess the latest events made them to seek for an outlet… Some of them are
thickheaded enough to be angry with Wayne for Joker’s crimes and some of them
were happy with Falcone’s rule… We’re still investigating Falcone’s archives
with the names of his collaborators. But the vast majority of Gotham’s citizens
are unhappy with Napier’s monstrosity.”
Rachel brushed the rim of her cup of coffee.
“You believe so much in Gotham that you project your goodness in them…”
“You flatter me, Rachel but I’m sure of Gotham’s quality…”
“But it’s the truth; that rotten city is lucky to have you.”
Harvey laughed and made to say something but the built in TV screen caught his
attention, Rachel following suit.
 
Lucius came out of the lift to go to his office; he had just tidied up his
daily work at his laboratory which was devoted in isolating the complex pattern
of different factors in the strange substance Bruce’s cells were producing. Now
he wanted to check some things in his office, before leaving the Wayne Tower.
His secretary had left, her working hours long passed. He preferred the peace
at the evening Tower but instead of the empty foyer he expected, he saw a man
sat outside his office. He was an African American with a very stout posture
and a black eye patch; his good eye focused on him immediately, shinning
cleverly and a broad smile curved his face.
Lucius smiled too and as soon as approached him enough offered his hand for
handshake. The stranger stood up and shook his hand.
“Good evening, sir” Lucius greeted him politely “Isn’t a bit late for a
meeting? We had an appointment that I forgot?” he inquired.
“No, Mr. Fox, we didn’t; but I had to meet you and when I called earlier your
secretary told me that you were busy. So I came now, hoping that you will grant
me a few minutes of your time. Oh! I forgot to introduce myself: Nick Fury,
director of the S.H.I.E.L.D.”
Lucius knew the organization but didn’t show it.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Fury. Please, come in.”
He pressed his palm on a receptor and the door unlocked. He showed the man
inside and the lights immediately turned on. Fury smiled.
“Please, have a seat” Lucius gestured to the armchair before his desk. “Do you
want something to drink?”
“No, thank you.”
Lucius sat and looked at his visitor.
“So, how can I help you?”
“You know what the organization I represent does?”
Lucius nodded.
“I have some vague knowledge; just what the media are saying.”
“S.H.I.E.L.D. is an organization fighting the evil and protecting justice
throughout the world giving guidance to men and women with special abilities
and the same desire for justice.”
Lucius smiled.
“It sounded like a press release… Anyway, I fail to imagine what this laudable
organization wants from me; Wayne Enterprises don’t manufacture weaponry
anymore.”
Fury nodded.
“I know that; however, your Enterprises hold an impressive technical mastery.”
“As far as I know, Tony Stark is among your force so I’m sure that your
technical mastery has nothing to be jealous of ours” Lucius answered amused.
Fury leaned towards Lucius, his one eye sparkling with determination.
“You did a spectacular work with Batman” his voice was business-like.
Lucius stared at him as if he was seeing an insane man.
“You mean the supposed creature that people say that every night beats
criminals?”
Fury nodded.
“Also, the only one who dared to resist and fight Falcone’s rule during the
man’s kingship. He wouldn’t have made it without your help.”
The Wayne Enterprises’ mastermind smiled amused.
“We are still talking about something that its existence isn’t even proved and
you claim that I… What?”
“You helped him by providing him his armor and the gadgets that make him
undetectable and invincible.”
“Mr. Fury, I understand that you have a passion with superheroes yet I am a man
of science and I don’t waste my time with things of unproved existence.”
Fury leaned on the armchair’s back.
“Mr. Dagget stated that Mr. Wayne managed the swift acquisition of Falcone
Enterprises with your and Mr. Pennyworth’s assistance. You helped him wire the
Mansion and broadcast Falcone’s confession and before you made the buying of
Falcone’s depressed shares.”
Lucius raised his eyebrows.
“Mr. Dagget was very upset that he didn’t achieve to take Falcone’s shares and
the control of the Enterprises. However, how that assertion is related to what
you’re saying?”
“You knew that the boy was alive and together made the plan of creating a
figure that would fight Falcone and lead him to the wrong movement. You gave
him his weaponry.”
Lucius smiled.
“If I understood right, you claim that Mr. Wayne is…”
“The Batman.”
Lucius shook his head and smiled amused.
“You’re joking…’’
“Not at all, Mr. Fox” Fury answered dead serious. “And I remind you that
vigilantism is illegal. So those covering an outlaw are considered
accomplices.”
“And according to your… theory, Mr. Wayne is a ghost vigilante and I am his
accomplice.”
Fury nodded.
“Then why you don’t make your allegation to the proper authorities?”
“Because I respect and admire Mr. Wayne and I don’t want him ending up to a
cell” he tilted his head “or a room in Arkham Asylum. That would be a pity, Mr.
Fox. So if you persuaded him to join the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s team, neither he nor
you would be endangered. He was stabbed or shot last night, right? With our
covering he won’t be ever again in danger.”
Lucius felt his blood boiling; his face was stony.
“You came in my office to threaten me and Mr. Wayne with nonsense? And you even
turned flu to a stab or shot: you should write a comic book…”
Fury stood up and put his hands on Lucius’ desk.
“He is still a kid; he doesn’t know how the world outside Falcone’s dungeon
works but you do and would be a waste of intelligence if you’re destroyed by
assisting this young man to his insane path. You can reason with him.”
Lucius’ brows were knitted, his stare cold.
“You’re saying” he said slowly “that Mr. Wayne doesn’t know how the world works
yet you claim that he is so skilled to be Gotham’s vigilante and orchestrating
Falcone’s downfall: don’t you think that you deny yourself?”
Fury wanted to end it.
“Mr. Fox, we both know that what I’m saying is true, so let’s drop the games:
you helped the boy regain his freedom and his fortune and that was admirable
but since Falcone’s rule ended, there’s no need of secrecy. So persuade him to
join us and save yourself of the troubles this youth’s antics hide.”
Fury knew that he was pushing things too much and that was too risky; Lucius
Fox was an extremely clever man, after all. But his other efforts proved
fruitless; both Gordon and Dent were protecting their Prince and Knight,
unwilling to betray the man to a stranger or simply they didn’t know anything.
In either case, things were forcing him to be harsh.
Lucius shook his head in disbelief and cast a sideways glance to his guest,
completely unfazed by his direct threat.
“OK, let’s drop the pretenses, since that is what you want. You came in the
Wayne Tower and in my office to threaten me to press my employer to admit
something that’s not true, only because you’re obsessed.”
“I’m not obsessed!”
“Do you have any proofs to support your theory?” he grinned. “Of course not
otherwise you’d have gone to the police.”
Fury’s face was tense.
“First, I don’t want Mr. Wayne to be arrested; it’d be disastrous for him and I
don’t want a man like him ruined. Second, I don’t think that Commissionaire
Gordon would have utilized my information;” he smirked “he’s his ally.”
Lucius raised both his eyebrows.
“So you’ve expanded your conspiracy theory to include the Commissionaire, as
well. And your ‘proofs’ became ‘information’?” he asked amused.
Fury leaned more towards him.
“Mr. Fox, are you willing to see Mr. Wayne in jail just to stay loyal to his
illogical insistence to be a vigilante?” he furrowed, mocking wondering. “Which
would be worse for the young man: a prison cell or a padded one in Arkham?”
Now Lucius jolted from his armchair and towered Fury, his face dropping every
trace of humor.
“You’re disgusting!” he uttered in a voice so unusual for him. “Get out of
here, before I call security. And I’ll make sure the proper authorities learn
about your harassment on me and your intention to blackmail Mr. Wayne. Don’t
you dare approach him! He had had enough from people like you and we won’t let
you upset him again.” He tilted his head. “I wonder if Mr. Stark” he noticed a
tiny tick in Fury’s hard face “knows your theory and your antics to force his
friend yield to your obsession, confessing a lie – you remind me of some
corrupted DAs who were forcing innocent people to confess things in order to
boost their career. Mr. Stark will be very interested to know how the
‘organization’, he finances and reinforces its ranks, is back stabbing him by
pushing his friend to a breakdown…”
 Fury withdrew from the desk, nodding. He smirked.
“I wish I enjoyed the same loyalty as Mr. Wayne… So protective and loyal all of
you! I admit; that city is really tough…”he saluted in military style. “As a
military man I know when to retreat.”
He walked to the door yet just before leaving he turned to Lucius who was
regarding him cool and coldly.
“But I’m a man of persistence, Mr. Fox: I always get what I want.”
Lucius Fox wasn’t impressed.
As the lift was descending him to the first floor, the agent was clenching and
un-clenching his hand to regain his composure. There was no chance he was
mistaken: Bruce Wayne was Batman yet the youth was so clever that had gathered
around him the best: the most brilliant, brave, devoted and clever men who
could easily handle pressure.
The lift's doors opened and he stepped out. Only if he could find a weak link;
someone who won’t be impervious to pressure... His one eyed glance met a
familiar form crossing the foyer with the Wayne Enterprises’ ID on his chest
and he smirked.
 
***** Chapter 26 *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter was extremely difficult to write and I apologize in
     advance if it's not good enough. The previous week was a Hell; my
     one-eyed kitten, Hero, died in my hands and it was almost impossible
     to return to writing and keep my focus on the story, while memories
     and pain were flooding me (and still are)...
     I dedicate this chapter and my petty works to his loving memory...
Fury hurried his steps to intercept the man who was heading to the Wayne
Tower’s exit.
“Mr. Petrou!” he called and the man stood abruptly, turning to see who was
calling him.
Fury smiled, trying to catch his breath and the Wayne Enterprises’ employee
didn’t hide his puzzlement.
“Did you call me?” he inquired shyly and cautiously.
He wasn’t used to be approached by strangers and as a matter of fact, he was
afraid of them because of his dark past; Falcone was killed but Gotham’s
underground was very much alive and always could decide to ‘punish’ a traitor.
The stranger with the eye patch nodded, keeping on smiling, failing however to
reassure Mr. Petrou.
“Nick Fury, retired governmental official and director of the S.H.I.E.L.D.” he
introduced fast himself, pointing the ‘governmental official’ to gain
immediately the man’s cooperation. Wayne had vouched for him but his position
was still precarious. “You’re Steve from Stefanos” he smiled self confidently
for knowing that secret detail “Petrou, right?”
He stretched his hand and the man regarded it, shuddering at the fact that the
stranger knew his Christian name which meant that he was under scrutiny and a
government official even retired, researching you wasn’t something good,
especially for his Ares, who was at his career’s best and heading even higher.
He shook the offered hand.
“Yes, I am, sir. How can I help you?”
Fury’s eye shone wickedly: finally, someone with willingness to help.
“I see you’re leaving; could we have a talk? There’s a nice, quiet café
nearby.”
The man just nodded and followed Fury to the small café where they sat at one
particularly secluded corner, though there weren’t many clients at this time of
day.
“Can I buy you a coffee, since I brought you here?” the agent asked
benevolently and Petrou shrugged.
Fury gave his order to the waitress and then turned to his guest.
“You were one of Falcone’s thugs for decades.”
“I think that this is known, Mr. Fury. I worked for him and I’m not proud for
that” he didn’t lower his eyes “but Mr. Wayne honored me with his trust, giving
me a second chance. Now, what is it that you want from me?”
The approaching waitress stopped Fury from speaking until she laid their
coffees on the table and left.
“Answers, Mr. Petrou.”
The man furrowed.
“I testified everything I know at the court” he protested.
“Not everything, Mr. Petrou” he leaned towards him and pierced him with his one
eyed but strong stare.
“I don’t understand; I gave all the information I had on Falcone and his
‘businesses’.”
Fury sipped his coffee and sighed, closing his eye.
“Mmm… Perfect coffee: strong and tasteful… When you attempted to leave
Falcone’s gang and the mobster ordered your death, you were saved and helped to
flee Gotham by Batman right?”
Mr. Petrou was sat rigidly at his seat, brushing his cup without however
drinking. This man was the first to ask him about Batman and, although he
wasn’t the smartest of people, he was aware that Batman was considered an
outlaw (which for him was a great injustice) and Fury was trying to draw a link
between Batman and him.
“I’m not sure, sir; you see, Falcone’s thugs had roughed me up and left me
unconscious; when I woke up I was at the outskirts of Gotham in a car” he
didn’t want to speak to this man about Gordon’s and Dr. Thompkins’ part in that
– he didn’t like the man.
Fury smiled but his smile was jeering. He pointed with his index finger to the
man.
“You’re not a good liar, Mr. Petrou; I’m positive you saw Batman and I want to
know everything about him: his height, his weight, his eyes, his movements, his
voice – every detail. But drink your coffee, it’s getting cold.”
However the man didn’t obey.
“Are you interrogating me? If so, I demand to see your ID; you’re not a cop or
a federal agent, so I don’t have to answer your questions.”
Fury stretched in his seat.
“You’re right: I’m not a cop or a federal agent; I told you that I’m a retired
governmental official.” He licked his lip and tilted his head dead serious
“But” he stressed “I’m the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., a powerful organization
which fights the crime and is cooperating with governments all over the world,
including that of US. What I want to point here is that you may not be obliged
to answer me, but I can brought in your case people to which you’ll be obliged
to answer…” he raised his eyebrow in emphasis.
Mr. Petrou took in the clear threat, however kept his cool.
“I haven’t violated the rules of my parole.”
Fury nodded and sipped again from his cup.
“Yes, but the lack of willingness to cooperate is a bad thing.”
“What is it that you want? I don’t know anything about that man – if indeed is
a man.”
The agent pressed his lips in a tight line and leaned towards him.
“So… Batman saved you from Falcone’s thugs and Bruce Wayne from jail” he said
thoughtful but hinting things. “What. A. Coincidence!”
The former thug leaned towards the agent; the mentioning of his employer’s name
pierced him like a spear.
“I don’t understand what you want to say and why are you bringing my employer
to this. He likes to help people and give them a second chance: he didn’t help
only me but also the working girls of Falcone.”
Fury scratched with his index finger the cup, his eyes focused on the object
and not on his guest.
“The working girls were victims as himself” he turned his gaze to him. “You on
the other hand were a thug who for many years was doing dirty jobs for his
boss… So, I don’t understand his willingness to keep you out of jail.”
Mr. Petrou leaned on the seat’s back.
“You should ask him…” he replied calmly. “I know I deserve to be in prison but
I won’t disappoint the man that gave me the chance of a new, decent life.”
“And for that reason you don’t answer honestly my questions…” he nodded. “I
think that’s the reason he… ‘gave you a second chance’ is  to keep your mouth
shut.”
“My mouth shut!” the man yelled exasperated. “What are you saying, man? You’re
insane! And you’re not άξιος” he stopped realizing that he was uttering in
Greek “worthy to speak like this for Mr. Wayne; he is a rare young man, the
bravest man I know!”
Fury sobered.
“Exactly, Mr. Petrou, the bravest and that makes him more than the victim he
poses to be.”
“He never posed as…”
But Fury cut him, leaning towards him as an attacking tiger.
“Your case, Mr. Petrou, proves that there’s a link between Bruce Wayne and
Batman” he said with his sternest voice. “They both believe that you’re a man
worthy of saving; they both intervened to save you; they both knew the same
thing that makes you worthy of the effort.”
He returned to the back of his seat, watching his guest’s reactions. Mr.
Petrou’s eyes were widened and he was shaking his head in disbelief. Mr. Wayne,
the kid that Falcone tortured and his thugs molested, being Batman? The man was
insane or trying to trap the young man. And he thought to use him to harm Bruce
Wayne.
He pierced the agent with his humble but determined eyes.
“You wonder why Batman and Bruce Wayne… saved me and you believe that this is
the proof that my employer is connected with Batman; supposedly to shut my
mouth.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You know nothing about people, Mr.
Fury, especially good people, as Mr. Bruce Wayne; so let me answer your
confusion.” The man was speaking particularly calm and Fury watched him with
interest. “Batman, if indeed it was him, stopped Falcone’s thugs from killing
me, because obviously, he wanted me to testify against Falcone and give
information. Bruce Wayne, on the other hand” he lowered his eyes in a moment of
indecisiveness; finally, he inhaled deeply, deciding to speak “gave me a second
chance, because of a bar of chocolate and some homemade food.”
Fury raised his eyebrow confused and amazed at the same time. Mr. Petrou seeing
his puzzlement continued.
“Almost every day in Falcone’s filthy brothel I was watching Bruce Wayne being
worn out, working from dawn to dark, famished and molested by Falcone’s thugs
before the boss himself or Chill took their turn… The boy was skinny, dragging
his feet, always in pain” he smirked “I was watching impassively, indifferently
for much time, until one night I made my decision: I approached the poor kid
who instantly cowered, believing that I was gonna to molest him…” he smiled
warmly. “I gave him a really cheap chocolate I had with me and he… he thanked
me. And it seems that a cheap chocolate offered to him was enough to persuade
him that a scum like me is good enough to deserve a second chance.”
Fury pressed his lips; every predisposition to jibe ebbed away.
“Mr. Wayne spent his most tender years in a constant nightmare, seeing his
parents killed, being humiliated by their killer and every scum there is,
starved, cursed, tortured and raped – I was hearing his screams and begs to his
tormentor to stop” the man stopped to ruffle his hair awkward “however, he kept
his kindness and golden heart to the point of believing that people like me
have good in them” he lowered his eyes. “And now you, obviously, believing that
your power can terrorize me, come to force me to help you harm this great young
man by shattering his heart again, proving that people are bad. You want me to
be once again a scum, lying against my benefactor to save my hide.”
He stood up and shook his head in dismissal.
“I won’t return to that, Mr. Fury. There’s nothing bad you can blame Mr. Wayne
for and I won’t lie to save myself. If you want, you can use your big
connections to throw me in jail.” He moved his upper lip in disgust. “I don’t
care: after all, I believe that I belong to prison” he leaned above Fury who
was silent. “So I prefer prison than freedom with the burden of being a tool to
trap Mr. Wayne and hurt him; because there’s nothing blamable in that young
man, only your imagination and ill will! And is a big insult to me that you
thought that I could be the tool for your unreasonable grudge! Thank you for
the coffee.”
He pulled out from his pocket a bill and tossed it to the table, rushing out of
the café.
Fury’s gaze focused on the dark street to which the window looked. His lips
were pressed: everyone considered that he wanted to harm the young man. But he
didn’t. He heard what the boy was been through and imagined the rest; and he
admired the youth not only because he survived becoming a formidable hero but
also because he kept his sanity and goodness of heart. However, he was in the
wrong path: being an uncontrolled, outlaw, even if he saved people every day,
wasn’t safe or acceptable. And he didn’t want to see that remarkable young man
dead or arrested and humiliated by being dragged in courts and jails.
He had spoken to Flass, as well; he told him something similar with Petrou:
Batman had saved him from Falcone himself to secure his testimony against the
mobster. And his view for Bruce Wayne was of a weak, totally resigned being; he
tried to rape the youth and Bruce made only a feeble effort to resist which
died away when Flass punched and threatened him with a gun . Of course if he
had fought back, he would have raised suspicions about being something more
than the pretty slave... So he’d have let Flass rape him, weren’t for
Superman’s intervention. And there’s the answer to when and where Batman met
Superman and made the super being willing to follow the orders of a mere
mortal. No, not a ‘mere mortal’, not mere at all…
Indeed, Bruce Wayne was great not only in catching and revealing criminals who
the rest couldn’t but also in reading people and inspiring them to change their
life to the best…
S.H.I.E.L.D. and he wanted that man in their force at any cost but he didn’t
want to harm all these great people that he approached and tried to pressure;
he didn’t have other choice than follow the direct way…
Mr. Petrou hurried his steps back to Wayne Tower, Todd the security man who had
the evening shift looked him baffled. But he didn’t have the mood for much
talk: he asked him if Mr. Fox was still there and when he affirmed it, ran to
the lift, not even listening to Todd’s protest:
“I don’t know if he…”
He knocked on the door to Mr. Fox’s office and heard the calm call to come in.
Lucius Fox was reading a file but seeing the unsettled face of their employee
he put down the file and removed his glasses. His eyebrows were furrowed.
“Mr. Petrou, hasn’t your shift ended?”
Yet the man was too nervous to answer.
“Mr. Fox, I’m sorry to interrupt you but there’s a man that wants to harm Mr.
Wayne.”
Lucius regarded him tranquil.
“Joker” he replied nonchalant.
Petrou shook his head in negation.
“No, I didn’t know him but he told me that his name is Fury and he has an eye
patch” his breath was a bit uneven.
Lucius nodded.
“Calm down, Mr. Petrou, please. Did he disturb you?”
The man looked at Lucius surprised.
“You know him? He was making odd questions about Mr. Wayne and I think that he
believes that he is Batman. And…” he made a pause. “We must not let him harm
Mr. Wayne…”
Lucius smiled warmly for the man’s devotion. Bruce would be very pleased to
learn that he was right to believe in that man.
“We won’t, Mr. Petrou. Did he threaten you?” now his eyes were shadowed.
The man closed his eyes for an instant.
“Not directly; but he was reminding me that he has connections and that my
unwillingness to collaborate would harm my parole. But I don’t care, Mr. Fox;
after all, I am a former thug and I deserve to be in prison. Only Mr. Wayne
believed in me and I don’t want him to lose his faith in people, even if I end
up in jail… I owe so much to him…”
Lucius felt his eyes watering a bit and pressed his lips in a tight line.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Petrou, he won’t and you won't end up in prison. You can go
to your home now and rest; be sure that Mr. Fury won’t harm Mr. Wayne or anyone
else. Good night, Mr. Petrou and thank you for letting me know immediately.”
The man nodded; Mr. Fox’s confident smile was a reassurance.
“Good night, Mr. Fox…”
Lucius as soon as the door closed called Dietrich Collins, the head of Wayne
Enterprises’ legal department, an old friend who was appointed to the post
right after the Enterprises’ acquisition by Bruce – well, even before but under
heavy secrecy.
“Good evening, Diet, sorry for calling so late but it was urgent.”
“Not mention it, Lucius; lawyers are a bit like doctors and it’s rather early”
the man laughed “actually, I’m still at my office at the Tower so we don’t have
to speak through cell phones.”
“Even better. I want to discuss about requesting a restraining order. It
concerns Mr. Wayne’s well being.”
“I’m coming right away.”
 
Alfred opened gently the door to the master bedroom and walked inside as
soundlessly as he could; Master Anthony told him that Master Bruce was asleep.
Indeed, he found the notebook on the nightstand, as Master Anthony had left it
and Bruce fast asleep. He put the thermometer in his ear and saw with relief
that his young master didn’t run a fever anymore: Leslie’s antibiotics worked.
He settled the blankets better so that his master’s shoulders weren’t exposed
and with a last affectionate stare went to tide up the bathroom – not that it
was necessary but he wanted to be around in case Bruce needed him.
He had only a vague impression of his surroundings; a thick mist in front of
him as Chill was driving and then dragging him to the meeting place from where
Bane was picking him for his training at the League’s secret base. Today
nothing had any meaning, any importance; his attempt to run away failed
miserably and Ra’s not content by punishing him captured Tony… His friend, his
best friend, his solace even in Falcone’s dungeon… His snow covered image on
the screen was the only thing in his eyes and mind: weak, defeated, tortured,
wounded, with a death penalty hanging above his head… And it was his fault; all
his fault: Tony was suffering because of him, because Al Ghul wanted his
punishment to be definite and devastating.
He didn’t care about Chill’s smirk and his sniggers when they passed the
constraint of his exhausted senses or his red eyes…
He was walking entirely in auto pilot, the vulture’s grip in his upper arm
bruising. Chill stopped him and a human mountain rose before him that he knew
it was Bane; he was tossed to the man and Al Ghul’s warrior dragged him
violently to their destination.
As he was pushed inside, he had the feeling of being swallowed by a huge hole
to nothingness… His heart and mind completely erased, drained from the events
of the last hours and the dread and agony for Tony’s fate… Sometimes being a
tiny speck of dust, unnoticed, unimportant, without self awareness and feelings
and thoughts seemed so tempting… A dream, his only dream…
He felt falling and the wooden floor came to meet him with ire: everyone was
angry with him, even the inanimate. He didn’t make any attempt to protect his
body from the impact and didn’t move. He didn’t resist when Bane’s rude hands
stripped him from his T- shirt neither when he began bounding his wrists
together to the front.
Bane grasped his hair and jolted him to his feet.
“Finally, the time you’ll get what you deserve has come, you filthy whore!” he
hissed between his clenched teeth.
He didn’t reply anything; he was hating himself all these years and now even
more. Also he felt that he deserved whatever they were going to do to him for
Tony was in danger, because of his deeds; he was paying for him. And maybe
punishing him, Al Ghul would sate his wrath and let Tony go.
Bane wrapped a chain to the rope bounding Bruce’s wrists and threw the other
end to one of the ceiling’s crossbeams to drag it till Bruce was suspended.
Then he tied the young man’s ankles together and hooked a big metal ball,
making the pull to the floor even stronger.
Bruce felt his armpits burn, especially the right one of his former cripple
arm. And the burn was rapidly becoming throbbing pain, creating the sense that
his arms were slowly uprooted.
The door opened and Ra’s entered strutting, his hands behind his back. He
approached and stood right before the suspended young man. Ra’s regarded him
smirking, to Bane’s utter delight.
“You really thought that you could sneak away from me, you idiot?!”
Bruce didn’t answer not even bringing his eyes to look at his mentor’s gleeful
stare.
Although his captive was hanging from the roof, Ra’s still was at the same
height with him. So he grasped his hair and yanked his head, forcing him to
look at him.
“I asked you something and you didn’t answer!’’
“Forgive me, master” he answered humbly but with steady voice “I don’t ask
forgiveness to avoid punishment or death, but to spare Tony Stark…”
Ra’s smiled wryly and his eyes glistened.
“Oh! You mean the man who you considered so mighty that he would save you from
me…” his voice was mocking, piercing Bruce’s heart. “And now you’re begging to
save him. In vain… He’ll die in front of your eyes” his smile became a full
grimace “he won’t be the first one, right?” he lifted a sarcastic eyebrow.
Bruce’s eyes widened in despair.
“Please! He didn’t do anything wrong: it was my fault! Punish me!”
Ra’s hand now was ruffling his hair.
“Tell me, Bruce: aren’t you tired of causing innocent people’s deaths?” His
lips caressed his ear. “I am punishing you…”
His other hand ran almost affectionately his naked back, creating goose bumps
to Bruce, who suddenly screamed from excruciating pain.
“Do you know which of your organs I am torturing, child?” he accompanied his
demand with a stronger pinch that caused a louder yell from Bruce.
Bruce closed his eyes to fight the pain but Al Ghul made him open them by
jerking more violent his hair.
“The kidney…” he breathed.
“Seems that being a doctor's son, even for eight years, has its merits” he
sniggered and gestured to Bane.
His soldier smiled and walked to something covered with a sheet at the wall
opposite Bruce. Bane plopped the sheet and a large TV was disclosed.
“Switch it on” Ra’s ordered and at the same time abused more Bruce’s kidney
extracting a new howl from him.
Bruce as soon as his vision was cleared from the pain’s fog saw Tony tied in
the same chair with hooded men around him; his eyes widened.
“Don’t hurt Tony, please Master!”
Al Ghul’s eyes were gleeful, a sinister smirk curving his face.
“I’ll punish you but to multiply the effect you’ll be watching your friend
being tortured as well…”
“No!”
Yet his Master made a sign with his head which was the only thing that Bane
needed to bring a box.
Ra’s rummaged the contents of the box and pulled out an extremely thin long
needle made of a white material. At the same time, a desperate scream from the
TV made Bruce shudder and try to move, causing excruciating pain to his arms,
especially his right one.
His master grabbed him from the neck and brought the needle in front of his
eyes.
“It will console you to know that you will pain more than your petty friend?”
Bruce felt the sharp edge of the needle stabbing his head and expected blood to
wet his hair and face but there wasn’t any moisture. A slight twitch of Al
Ghul’s fingers and thousands hot spears pierced simultaneously every molecule
of his painfully stretched body. He screamed but it was Tony’s close but
distant yell of agony that made his eyes fill with tears. If only his tormentor
tortured only him…
“I can make you pain so much that you’ll wish never being born, I can torture
you, leaving no marks, no bruises and without any blood…” Ra’s’ voice was
sadistically happy with his suffering.
Bruce cried louder as a second twitch of the cruel fingers made his entire body
feel like being burning, his flesh melting on the bones. His trembling caused a
new wave of crucifying pain to his arms. Sweat was drenching his face and naked
torso and through his half closed eyelids he could see Bane’s triumphant,
greedy glare.
“Please…” he whispered between his rasps and Ra’s halted his fingers from
moving the needle inside his brain, right in the pain center.
The leader of the League of Shadows looked him with his eyebrows raised with
interest. His grabbing hand caressed his sweaty locks.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked soothingly with his mouth on his ear.
Bruce turned his glistening eyes under some stray locks to the unforgiving face
of the man he once considered his savior.
“No…” he whispered “just let Tony leave and increase my punishment… It was my
fault, nobody else’s… Please, Master…”
A violent rapid stabbing movement made Bruce scream and his body convulse in
its bounds for almost a minute before Ra’s detached the needle. Bruce collapsed
in his bounds, the pain’s after waves still torturing his body; he was panting,
trying to get some air in his lungs which till now were empty.
Tony was once again yelling and cursing, making Bruce cry desperately but
defeated causing Bane’s snigger.
“Look who thought that could outsmart you!” he pointed out to Ra’s.
He however caressed sympathetically the wet locks which had stuck in Bruce’s
forehead, the youth keeping his eyes shut.
“Open your eyes, child” he said understanding. “I want to see them.”
He obeyed and Al Ghul’s stare was admiring, despite the fact Bruce’s eyes were
covered by a thick curtain of tears. The young man couldn’t stop his sobs from
escaping his chest; his heart’s pain was worse than that of his body.
“Tears make your eyes even more mesmerizing…”
Al Ghul brushed his sweaty, hot cheek and tightening his hold on his jaw,
stabbed with all his might the needle, causing Bruce’s loud cries and whines as
every inch of his flesh was grazed, ripped from the bones. His cries were
echoed by Tony’s and Bruce pressing his lips and grinding his teeth tried
desperately to escape from Ra’s’ hand. But a second stab paralyzed him, feeling
every tiny bone being smashed simultaneously.
Ra’s let Bruce’s head drop on his chest, the older man’s mouth right on his
locks.
“The worst punishment for you is watching your friend dying because of your
stupidity; and you’ll watch him die a horrific death, after we do your daily
‘treatment’: we can’t let the truly important things in delay due to your
moronic antics!”
He pulled the needle out of Bruce’s scalp and the young man let a whimper. Ra’s
gestured to Bane to untie Bruce from the chain and he caught the weak body, as
soon as the chain stopped keeping him upright.
When the metallic ball was also removed, Al Ghul heaved his body in his arms,
as if he was indeed a child, and began walking – Bruce shivering in his
currently gentle hands tried to keep his exhausted stare at the TV screen and
his friend.
“Don’t worry, child” Ra’s sneered at him, catching his stare “you won’t miss
anything important…”
Bruce looked at his mentor’s cold, mocking eyes and closed his.
He was taken to the familiar room – the ‘medical room’, as he used to call it
-, where Ra’s stripped him from the rest of his clothes and laid him to the
‘examination’ table, this time strapping him. Not that he would have resisted
but it was another manifestation of the Demon’s wrath.
The same people, among them Ubu, began the same procedure as every day the last
six years, smearing his entire body with the lukewarm oil. Every inch, every
opening… Bruce closed his eyes; the same movements, the same feeling of his
throbbing flesh sucking the oil, the foreign hands and fingers more humiliating
than other times.
They unstrapped him to strap him again on his stomach, continuing the same
practice to the other half of his body. Bruce was feeling Ra’s’ hungry eyes all
the time on him.
Upon ending, they untied him and left him on his back.
“Time to bring in the TV…” Ra’s said and Bruce shuddered.
Two men brought the furniture with the TV inside the room and after Ra’s’
gesture, bowed reverently and left. The TV wasn’t on and Bruce’s eyes focused
on his master’s cold face.
“Time for the show to start” he smirked at his student, leaning above him.
Yet Bruce wouldn’t let him; it was now or never. He cupped his master’s cheek
and caressed him, his other hand slithering sensually at his neck, his body
overcoming its exhaustion in order to rub to Al Ghul’s upper body. He slid his
lips in the older man’s neck, his naked body trying to arouse his master’s
body.
Ra’s cupped the youth’s face and gave him a wry smile.
“For someone who has been a whore from his nine years you are ridiculously
clumsy and incompetent yet the fact that you use your body for your purpose
shows that you at last learnt something…” he jeered.
Bruce’s eyes focused on Ra’s’ cruel eyes, pleading.
“I beg you, Master…”
He raised a sarcastic eyebrow.
“You beg me what? To fuck you? To gain some more hours of life for your
friend?”
Bruce nodded with his shut eyes raining tears.
“Don’t kill him, Master…” his voice bent. “He doesn’t even remember me…”
His hand still trembling from the suspension ran Al Ghul’s body to his groin,
while his lips caressed gently his master’s lips, his wet from tears cheek
brushing Ra’s’. The older man closed his eyes in pleasure and sighed.
“If you really get yourself into it, you would be a terrific whore: nobody
would be able to resist you.”
His hands grabbed Bruce’s waist and glued the youth on him, his eyes locked
with his desperate ones.
“I’ll reward your amateur efforts; I’ll grant your friend the hours you’ll
manage to keep me entertained. After all, they’ll be hours of agony for him.”
He hoisted Bruce and pinned him violently on the wall, his lips greedily
rampaging the youth’s face and neck to end to his nipples, licking, sucking and
biting.
“Your despair is intoxicating, child…” he mumbled to Bruce’s sweaty pectorals.
Bruce had his eyes closed, his Master’s ministrations too violent and harsh on
purpose to hurt him. The older man’s groin was rubbing his naked genitals
frantically to the point of pain; Ra’s’ huge erection demanding satisfaction
even under the cloth and the panic from the imminent intrusion adding to his
existing agony for Tony made his heart ache. The older man got rid of his pants
and rushed inside Bruce’s body, making him moan, biting his lips to not scream.
Because Ra’s was punishing him through this and he was thrusting so violently
and fast that he was wounding his insides and his back which was crashed and
grazed to the wall with each thrust .
Al Ghul clenched Bruce’s legs and forced them to wrap around his waist so that
he could reach deeper and impale him viciously. The youth’s gasps and moans
were fueling his strength and mood to torture. He roared; he was savoring the
boy’s neck that was bearing the marks of his horrible bite from the night he
caught him and he sucked with abandoning greed. He was enjoying the sense of
his slave trembling and convulsing desperately, his pain so much that his heart
was racing and his eyes shone from despair.
“I can make this completely painless,” he whispered sadistic, swallowing
Bruce’s ear “or absolutely torturous’’ he pushed in such a way that his slave
opened again his eyes in horror and yelled. “I want your screams, child…” he
bit the ear lobe and ejaculated with a new more punishing movements.
He captured Bruce’s defeated eyes with his cruel stare, his length still inside
the youth.
“Do you want me to stop?” he sniggered, his gaze utterly jeering.
“No, Master” he panted.
“Beg me for more!” he roared in his ear.
Bruce’s weak hands caressed his Master’s shoulders and upper arms; his heart
was aching from agony to win life for Tony, however futile that was. Maybe
something would happen in the meantime… He nested his exhausted face in his
captor’s neck and his soft nose nudging the older man’s flesh made Ra’s sigh.
“Please, Master… More…” he moaned sensually.
Ra’s laughed cruelly and threw him to the floor, his head making a nasty sound
hitting at the hard surface. His master’s feet came right in front of his eyes
which got cloudier from the crash on the floor.
“Get on your knees!” Al Ghul ordered him sharply.
And he obeyed, though it was difficult to persuade his limbs to move.
“Now, spread your legs…”
He did what he was told and his master pulled out his shirt and tossed it away,
leaving himself completely naked. Bruce sensed him kneeling behind him and shut
his teary eyes just before his master’s enormous hands grabbed his buttocks,
spreading him more to invade him with one violent thrust that made him bite his
lips to not cry.
Yet the older man wasn’t completely satisfied with the trembling his
penetration caused and tightened more his grip, some blood already running from
the scratches his hands made. He pushed viciously knowing that with the way he
was moving the pain was multiplied and the boy’s tight muscles that were trying
to repel his torturing penis were magnifying the effect. He laughed and
enhanced his pace and force, the boy’s respiration hardly working.
“I want to hear your screams, Bruce; I want to taste your pain and despair with
all my senses. So” he thrust deeper and stronger, delighted from the yell he
caused “stop swallowing your screams and whimpers; I want your pride smashed!”
The boy obeyed; his whimpers, sobs and howls fueling Ra’s’ passion and lust;
his movements now impaling the young body that was slippery with sweat and
shaking from pain and exhaustion. The older man grasped a fistful of wet locks
and jerked his slave’s head so that he could savor the spectacle of his teary
eyes, watering his red, hot face. He mouthed those trembling rosy lips and
tried to eat them, swallow them, his other hand freeing his buttock to squeeze
Bruce’s unresponsive penis greedily, trying to milk it… And Bruce’s whines and
screams filled Ra’s’ mouth that kept captive the youth’s lips, punishing them,
relishing his slave’s suffering… Until he realized that the boy couldn’t
breathe and he stopped because he didn’t want him dead.
He clutched again his legs and raised them to gain even better access. The
knees weren’t on the floor anymore but he could hold Bruce’s weight and impale
him deeper in the spots where the pain was unbearable. And the boy’s body tried
desperately to escape his stabbing grip to avoid the digging and the burning,
bone-crushing feeling.
He leaned on the boy’s neck which was rubbing the floor and licked all its
length.
“Do you want me to stop, child?”
Bruce couldn’t articulate anything, his lungs didn’t have enough air. A
stampede of sobs escaped his mouth and his strained eyes opened to meet his
master’s sneering stare.
“No, Master; please, more…” he whispered, his voice hoarse from the screams and
whines.
Ra’s freed his one buttock and grasped his neck, turning his face towards him.
“It’s futile, child: your friend will soon die a horrible death. You’ll faint
or I’ll be bored by your body and screams, after all” he sniggered and raised
his eyebrows in sarcasm “I have them daily.’’
Bruce closed for a second his wet eyes and inhaled deeply before casting his
pleading eyes to Ra’s’ stony face.
“Please, Master… Let him live and I’ll do whatever you want for my entire
life.”
But the older man tightened his grip on his neck and grinding his teeth began
thrusting in him, causing his yells.
“You can’t bargain with something that’s already mine!” his voice was cold and
hissing and Bruce shut his eyes resigned.
Ra’s released his neck abruptly sending his head to hit the floor and resumed
his clench at his buttock, continuing his drilling with renewed force,
viciousness and roaring laughter, like a true demon, savoring the view of the
blood that dripped from his slave’s anus.
It was minutes or hours later, when someone knocked on the door and Al Ghul
detached himself from Bruce’s body, the youth on the verge of passing out.
The older man wore a training robe from those at the hooks on the wall and cast
a malign stare to the naked body on the floor.
“Don’t move an inch, I’ll be right back.”
He braced himself to persuade his exhausted, pained, slippery body to not
collapse. He even kept his opening exposed as his master wanted despite the
shame he felt. It was torturing. His body trembling, in spasms, begging for
some rest and he trying to breathe because fainting would infuriate Ra’s and
bring death to Tony. His heart was drumming in his ears and at every inch of
his body and his tears were watering the floor, as the fluids Ra’s had left
inside him and now were slowly sliding his legs.
When the door opened, Bruce couldn’t see him as he was kneeled on the floor
with his buttocks spread but he could tell that he was enraged; from his
breathing, from his pace, from his body’s smell. So the kick on his stomach
that crashed him to the floor wasn’t a surprise.
The older man fisted his messy hair and hoisted him from the floor, bringing
his exhausted eyes to face his inflamed ones.
“Congratulations, whore! You achieved your purpose: your scum of a friend
escaped, while I was fucking you! But don’t have a doubt” he gritted his teeth
in front of Bruce’s teary eyes “I’ll get him again and I’ll rip him limb by
limb in front of you!”
Bruce searched his eyes.
“Please, Master, leave him alone and I’ll be forever your slave…” his voice was
barely heard. “He doesn’t even remember me…”
Ra’s smiled wryly and caressed his sweaty, pale cheek.
“If you ever again betray me even in your thoughts, I’ll kill everyone you
love…”
Bruce opened his eyes; Al Ghul knows that he betrayed him and now wants to kill
his loved ones. He searched frantically the room but nobody was there; he was
alone. Tony wasn’t there, Alfred wasn’t there and his ass was throbbing
painfully. Ra’s was already here.
“Tony! Tony, where are you!” he screamed desperately and he was ready to jolt
from his bed to find him when Alfred surged out of the bathroom shaken.
The old butler managed to catch him before he left his bed and caressing his
cheek with one hand laid him gently on the mattress with the other.
“Calm down, Master Bruce, calm down… Everything is fine, you are safe… Just
please do not make harsh movements.”
Alfred’s eyes were cool but Bruce could see the tears ready to burst out and
let the gentle hand guide him to the mattress.
“Please, Master Bruce, inhale deeply and slowly…”
“Where’s Tony, Alfred?” the dream’s aftermath was too strong to let him relax
or permit him to have a completely steady voice.
“An emergency at Stark Industries occurred: I think a breach in security.
Master Anthony came to tell you but he found you asleep and he didn’t want to
wake you up.”
Bruce closed his eyes and rubbed his face with his – thankfully – steady hand.
He opened them and saw Alfred regarding him affectionately and worriedly.
“It was just a nightmare, Alfred; please don’t worry… I’m fine.”
Alfred nodded reading behind the lines that the nightmare was a flashback.
“Fine, sir, fine…” he said gently. “Would you please tell me now where does it
hurt?”
Bruce’s eyes slightly twitched from Alfred’s insight. However he smiled
lighthearted to throw away the kind man’s worry.
“I’m not a kid, Alfred…”
“Then why I’m seeing your pain in your eyes as when you were a toddler?” he
winked. “When you are in pain your eyes get a bit darker…”
“I must take care of that…” Bruce ruffled his hair.
Alfred pressed his lips.
“The pain is down there, sir, isn’t it?”
The young man looked at him all the humor leaving his face.
“It’s just my inability to control my emotion’s impact; I must work more on
that…” his tone was definite in belittling the issue.
But Alfred didn’t swallow that.
“I agree, sir” he mimicked his young master’s definite tone. “So I say we make
that appointment with Leslie.”
Bruce sighed and looked away for an instant. He brought again his gaze at
Alfred’s waiting face.
“Not tomorrow. I’m going to attend the Phelps' funeral…”
Alfred swallowed and blinked.
“Do you consider that prudent, sir? You already have covered the expenses.”
“I want to, Alfred; I have to” he set his jaw. “It is the least I can do.’’
Alfred nodded with his lips in a tight line. He inhaled.
“I’ll bring your dinner.”
“I can come to the kitchen, Alfred; I’m not so weak…”
Alfred smirked.
“I’m afraid, Master Bruce, that these are doctor’s orders and pardon me but I
don’t want to be faced with Leslie’s ire again…”
Bruce nodded, laughing and Alfred left the room.
“TV set” he ordered once alone and the wall opposite his bed and above the
fireplace opened to reveal a 50’’ flat TV screen. “CNN” he hoped that maybe
they had something on the Stark Industries’ emergency and Ironman but there was
nothing: Tony must have ordered complete secrecy. “GCN” he asked for the local
TV station in order to catch up with the latest developments.
What he saw made his pain worse. Vicky Vale was sat opposite Napier in a room
that obviously was the actor’s dressing room; his Oscar placed in a very
prominent spot beside his enormous mirror. Of course, he remembered, tonight
was the premiere of Napier’s abomination of a show and the journalist was
interviewing him.
But what caught Bruce’s attention was Napier’s attire.
“That’s…” his mouth spelled without his awareness.
Napier was wearing exactly the same clothes Falcone had him wearing for years…
the same colors, the same stains of blood and filth, the same holes from time
and violent hands, the rips shaped like Falcone’s thick leather belt… Even
Napier’s face had the same bruises he carried then… Enraged curses, sneers and
his own whines and cries invaded his ears.
“Yar a spoiled littl’ maggot an' I’ll chasten ya the only way ya understand!” a
shuddering numbing hissing sound tore the room and a sound of violently whipped
flesh froze his mind.
It was a shock and a new wave of excruciating pain attacked his rear end. He
clenched his teeth to overcome it and suddenly it dawned to him. How Napier
knew all these details? Only he, Falkone, Chill and maybe some thugs knew; he
doubted that authorities would let Napier speak with convicts so that left only
Chill and Falcone. Chill died two months ago and Falcone…
The realization was paralyzing and now he understood that what seemed to him
awkward in Napier’s lips and cheeks were his scars covered carefully but not
perfectly. Napier was Joker; Napier was Joker’s disguise… This was the reason
he seemed so familiar…
Tony may have known the man but that was before his time in the rehabilitation
clinic and sometimes institutions create mental issues and there was also his
alcoholism.
“And what do you have to say about Joker? He is quite intimidating and he
doesn’t like people talking about ‘his Brucey’; especially…” she smirked “in
your way…”
“First of all, deeear Vick, I waaanted Brucey in my premiere: I even gave him
an invitation personally. Buuuut he denied.” He twisted his lips and Bruce saw
again the awkward things in his face. “Veeeery disappointed I am, because after
all he was my inspiration.”
Vale shrugged.
“You must admit, Jack, that your performance is too much…”
Jack blinked and opened his hands.
“Buuut Brucey has humor… I guess that flu spoiled his mood even more…”
Vale laughed.
“But you avoid answering my question about Joker: aren’t you afraid of him?”
Bruce shook his head. He wasn’t afraid of Joker: he was the Joker.
“Listen, Vick; I know about that loony guy and his ob-session with Brucey. And
what he did is awful… I mean: com’ onnnnn, fella, get a grip on yourself. We
fell in love tooooo, yet we didn’t act like this…” he laughed. “Aaaand I
thiiink that this buffoon is copying me: the way I speak, the way I move. Heeee
imitates meeeee and does it baaadly, the creep. Haha!”
“You know that probably you have just enraged him…” she shook her blond head in
disapproval.
Napier clapped.
“The premiere is in two hours and people already began coming: nobody fears
that nutcase…”
Bruce had already taken the blankets off of his body and he was ready to stand,
when a magnified nasal voice filled Napier’s dressing room and stopped him in
astonishment.
“HAHAHAHA! Hel-looooo, Go-tham! Hel-looooo, Vicky; I know I’m honoring you and
youuuuur show with myyyyyy presence; I watch it whenever my ob-ligations allow
me. As you all figured out: the REAL man of jokes is heeeeeere!”
***** Chapter 27 *****
“Now, that’s ridiculous!” Tony exclaimed under the face plate, seeing the
spectacle before him.
He had followed the trails the intrusion in Stark Industries had left and they
led him out of Malibu, on a wave-battered hill not far from his house. He knew
from the start that the intruder wanted to drag him to a possible trap but he
gladly followed; first because he didn’t want civilians in danger and second
because he was curious about who could breach his security system and craved to
finally kick some hard ass. Actually, it’d be a good way to let some steam
blow.
But that was really ridiculous; his sensors warned him constantly however he
didn’t expect that! He didn’t expect to see a copy of Iron Man in black
floating over the peaceful sea completely unfazed from the presence of the real
thing.
That was truly annoying! That buffoon not only copied him (he had to discover
how after he melt that tin can) but also wasn’t afraid of him; he was just
standing opposite him, gazing at him behind his black face plate and Tony was
sure that his opponent was smirking, waiting.
“What were you doing at my Industries and how did you glue up this abomination
of an armor?” he asked nonchalant.
“Abomination?” the voice was crudely altered to sound like a robot and the
laugh was even worse.
Give me a break… Tony rolled his eyes.
“You’re so arrogant, Stark, and your arrogance will be your demise!”
“Yada, yada, yada” he shook his head in disbelief and ordered Jarvis to see who
was under the junk of metal. “Pal, not even your sayings are authentic; really,
you’re pathetic! However, I don’t want to hurt you so come peacefully and I
won’t use force.”
A scratching roaring laugh made Tony clench his teeth.
“Congratulations, Stark, you’re a cop now?” the sarcasm was clear even through
the distorted sound. “And I hoped for a real fight not a fiasco!”
Tony fumed.
“I can’t penetrate his system’s firewall and see who is he, sir” Jarvis’
artificial voice informed him.
“OK, Jarvis; I’ll wreck that scrap metal and I’ll find out myself.”
He boosted himself so that the five o’clock Californian sun blinded the black
Iron Man and readied his missiles.
“OK, fraud, you asked for it…” he fired his missiles aiming at the spots where
he knew that the control of the armor was.
But the black impostor waited patiently for the missiles to approach him at
breath’s distance and with a lazy jolt missed them; the missiles hitting the
rocks behind him.
Tony furrowed because his missiles followed the temperature signals and
obviously the cheat knew that also and had stolen his tech of fooling heat
detectors. He made a big dive to avoid the missiles his copy sent to him, the
rockets blasting the tranquil sea.
“You’ll lose, Stark” the metal junk sneered. “You’ll die but first you’ll see
your little friend in Gotham shattered!”
That hurt Tony more than a missile in his groin!
The fella wanted to play hard and thought that knew everything about his armor.
He stood right before the sun; he was pissed now, that junk dared to threaten
Bruce and that was unforgivable.
“Next time you’ll activate Ironman in here you’ll find yourself stuck in a
giant magnet in the ceiling!” Tony smiled fondly and sent his magnetic rockets
to the abomination.
It was his newest addition to the weaponry of Ironman, inspired by Bruce’s
comment, and with glee saw the bozo running and diving desperately to avoid the
rockets which tailed him mercilessly even when he attempted to take cover
behind the rocks that loomed up at the shore.
“Yes! Dance, monkey, dance!” Tony yelled and gave an iconic elbow to the air.
“Aaaaand kabow!”
As the panicked black copy ran to flee the magnetic fires Tony sent another
rocket that found the spot in the armor that made the junk fall in the sand,
simultaneously stopping his magnetic projectiles from hitting him again. He
didn’t want him dead; he wanted to know who he was and why he mentioned Bruce.
He lowered towards the sand, still floating a few inches above the ground. He
approached the impostor slowly and confidently, his lenses focused on the
impostor who was making feeble attempts to bring back the armor’s systems.
“Now, who are you?” he asked without delays.
“Sir, there is a blast in Vincent Thomas Bridge” Jarvis’ artificial always cool
voice said. “Imminent danger of collapse.”
“Shit!” Tony answered and instantly took off for the always crowded bridge.
His opponent smiled wryly, seeing Ironman hurrying to the bridge that he had
wired to blow right about this time, just in case. Thankfully, his armor –
Stark was right: it was crap but those magnetic rockets were unexpected – was
half working now, so he could flee before Stark returned; though he would be
very occupied to think about him…
He laughed despite his humiliating defeat and carefully floated, slowly taking
off for his safe place… He might have lost the battle but the war was on and he
would be ready for the next time.
Tony was flying in top speed to thwart the loss of thousands of lives; his
breath was pressed inside his chest and his fists were clenched. He knew that
this was that moron’s work and that he had escaped but he’d catch him the next
time; the important now was the human lives at stake.
“The situation at Vincent Thomas Bridge is normalized, sir; the danger is
neutralized.”
Tony frowned and opened his mouth to ask but his helmet’s enhanced vision was
zooming already at the Bridge which indeed wasn’t in danger of collapsing
because someone was holding the faulty piece and two lines of fire were
melting-gluing the damage at the Bridge’s pillar.
Ironman made a spectacular dive and surged to help, using his armor’s utilities
to stabilize more the Bridge’s foundations.
When his scan of the Bridge’s condition showed that everything was normal, he
detached himself and landed on the impressive arch the cables formed. The one
who had held the Bridge from collapsing followed him and Tony had to admit that
he was rather impressive with the sun illuminating his unarmored god-like
posture.
Superman didn’t smile as he used to.
“The Bridge is safe?” he inquired Ironman because he knew that he had the
utilities to make a scan and the knowledge to judge.
Tony made a slight nod without deactivating his face plate.
“I guess I have to thank you…” he said calmly but his annoyance was obvious.
Superman shook his head in dismissal, uncrossing his hands ready to leave. He
knew that Stark hated him and frankly he didn’t have the best of feelings for
him, so he preferred to avoid any interaction with the billionaire.
“What are you doing here?” Stark demanded and Superman took a deep breath and
turned to face him.
“Obviously, saving some lives…” he gestured to the cars crossing the bridge.
Tony detected the irritation in his voice and how tense the alien’s body was.
He counted; two days from the last time he saw Bruce and their encounter was
quite intimate to increase the addiction.
“I wasn’t meddling with your business, okay?” Superman commented considering
Ironman’s thoughtfulness as a clear sign of animosity and he didn’t have any
mood for that: Bruce was injured and he couldn’t go to him or even spy on him
to make sure he was alright. While this idiot billionaire could be constantly
near his Star without any problem: life is shit!
Tony was scanning the alien’s body and was seeing the signs of agitation. Bruce
had said that Superman’s powers were undermined every time he was close to him.
“How did you know?” he inquired completely calm but instantly saw Superman’s
heartbeat increase with impatience.
“Look, I was around and heard the distress; I didn’t have any mood to butt
heads with you but people were in imminent danger and I thought that you’re
occupied” he crossed his hands  and moved his feet nervously on the air.
Tony nodded; you heard the calls of distress but you don’t hear the people
cheering for you from the bridge – nice... Bruce was right; the alien’s
addiction to him was detrimental to his powers and self control. Tony noticed
that during the time he didn’t answer him, Superman had moved on a cable and
his foot was unconsciously destroying it.
“Just … stay away from him” he uttered because he didn’t want his friend
exposed to a super powered being obsessed with him and with problems in self
control.
He saw Superman’s eyes widen only in the mention of ‘him’, a shade of red in
them. Tony wasn’t afraid for himself; his armor had many utilities to counter
Superman’s possible weapons but this was a sign that they had to hurry.
“I’m not around him right now, am I?” Superman said trying in vain to sound
nonchalant. “I won’t bother him” he smirked. “He doesn’t need your… protection…
And your… threats are ridiculous!”
Tony would have rolled his eyes but the situation wasn’t funny.
“I didn’t threaten you…” he replied gloomy. He felt the urge to say more but he
understood that it was time to let the alien calm down and leave him alone.
“People are cheering for you down there…” he pointed to him without any hint of
irony and saw Superman shocked staring at the crowd he hadn’t heard till then.
Superman turned his puzzled gaze at Ironman wondering if Stark knew he hadn’t
heard and if he knew about the games his hearing was playing – actually, he had
needed an extra effort to make his heat vision work for him at the bridge. If
Stark knew – he saw the Ironman leaving the bridge -, then Bruce knew too; of
course Bruce knew, he surely noticed that Superman with the superhuman hearing
didn’t hear the bullet coming. What was going on with him? He was so obsessed
with the man that his powers went crazy and Bruce sent him away afraid of what
he might do to him? No, Bruce shouldn’t be afraid of him… Bruce knew that… Or
didn’t?
He pressed his lips; he wanted to cry only with the thought of Bruce being
afraid that he could do to him what his abusers did…
Suddenly, Superman remembered the people on the bridge staring at him in the
hope of getting a better glimpse of their savior. He sighed and dived to meet
them.
 
“I. WARNED. You, Gotham; I waaaarned you and waaarned you and then I
waaaaaarned you again!” Joker’s magnified voice roared shaking the walls of the
wide dressing room and the entire Opera House and then all of a sudden he
started giggling. “You people are sooooooo out - rageous that actually it’s
funny; I’m cryyyying from laugh right now… Ugh!” He coughed. “I told you so
many times” his voice turned instantly to solemn and sharp like his blades
“noooot mess with MY Brucey; he is mi-ne! Only mine! Mine to ridicule, mine to
have, mine to break! You worming worms, are not worthy even to speeeell his
name; AND I DON’T WANT YOU TO SPELL HIS NAME!” his scream shook the walls. “I
killed Falcone and now that beautiful shithole of a city is mine and alooooong
her beautiful sad Prince. Buuuut youuuuuu don’t learn…, youuuuuu don’t want to
under – stand…tut, tut, tut. That dooooork posing as an actor made a farce to
ridicule and insult my sweet Prince and YOU, damned Gothamites, rushed here to
laugh at him. HAHAHA…” his laugh was entirely without heart. “I hate people
defiling my precious and I PUNISH THEM.” He sighed pretending the tired.
“Tonight Gotham will learn not enrage MEEEEE! You buffoon, will die and along
with you all these who came to laugh at Brucey!”
Vale who was keeping her calm till now became completely pale and the
microphone forgotten in her hand start shaking. Napier looked equally shaken.
“That’s not a joke, pal…” he tried to reason with Joker. “We…we didn’t mean
any…”
“HEHEHEHEHE!” Joker’s cruel snigger stopped him. “Youuuuuu’re not laughing now,
huh? And I’m not your ‘pppppal’! You didn’t mean what? Aggravating MY Brucey’s
wounds? Causing him the pain only I have the right to cause him?! Tonight it’s
myyyyy turn to laugh at you and those stupid Gothamites… and I hope my Prince
will laugh too – I promised to make him smile, after all.”
People, who were already seated at the grand hall of the Opera, jumped to their
feet to run for the exits only to freeze in their places seeing at least twenty
gunmen with Disney characters’ masks pointing their rifles at them. Some of the
Mickeys and Donalds fired several shots at the theater’s dome, causing
frightened yells from the audience who ducked in their seats.
“It’s po - pointless to try escaping what youuuuu deserve…” Joker sang. “If you
make another move, those splendid guns will fill you with holes… Now… I know
that Police is already here buuuuuut if they attempt a bbbust, the whole
building will go … KABOOM!!! You see, I have wired the whoooooole building
sooooo that if a sin-gle door is jimmied, the bombs will BOOOOOOM! I don’t want
any peeve from human or… flying rodent: rooftops are also trapped – YOU KNOW,
PAL…HEHEHEHAHAHA! Soooooooooo, relax on yoooour seats and enjoy the show!
Either those inside this fine building will die or – in case anyone is
foooooool enough to try save them – the bombs will go off, taking along the
entire area! WOW! I LOOOOOOOVE fireworks!” he giggled. “Buuuuuut it’s your
choice actually: Ugh! I’m a sucker foooor free will… BUHAHAHAHAHE!”
The door of the dressing room burst open and two Goofies and two Plutos rushed
with their guns pointing at Napier and Vale on camera and thousands viewers
watched as they grabbed the actor and the journalist and dragged them outside,
while one of them snatched the camera and the cameraman, the whole broadcast
fading to black.
Bruce jolted, disregarding the violent protest of his aching body. It was
clearly a prerecorded message, adjusted to Napier’s replies who of course Joker
new beforehand. Everything was planned so that Joker manages to blow away any
suspicion that he is Napier; the clown was afraid that Batman was already in
his tail and organized that fake threat to cover his traces. However he surely
would kill the people that were already at the Opera House; he never cared
about human lives. They were just extras to his performances…
He looked fleetingly at his wristwatch; Gordon hadn’t lit the Batsignal:
obviously, he was sure that Batman learnt it or he was already on the run to
the crisis and didn’t have the time to signal him. Unlike what he claimed Joker
was never joking.
He was almost at the door, when Alfred came in, carrying the tray with his
dinner; he saw his butler’s cool face going a bit pale and Bruce pressed his
lips in a tight line.
“Where do you think you’re going, sir?” he inquired sternly.
Bruce sighed and fought the urge to lower his eyes but it wasn’t a mischief.
“It’s Joker, Alfred; he holds hostages…”
Yet his loyal butler didn’t seem appeased.
“Gotham city has a Police Department, right?” his eyes were resolute.
Bruce tilted his head.
“They can’t fight him; human lives are at stake…”
Alfred placed the tray on the table and looked at his master exasperated.
“You’re injured; you’re not fully recovered. It’s too dangerous, sir!”
Bruce smiled to reassure him.
“Your stitches are perfect and the armor will protect them. And I’m not weak; I
feel great” he was already opening the door. “I had plenty of rest and good
food and…” he winked to Alfred “I expect to find your splendid dinner waiting
for me when I come back.”
Alfred made to move towards him.
“At least wait for Master Anthony…”
But Bruce had already closed the door.
“I don’t have the time…” he heard his young master’s voice gradually more
distant.
Alfred shook his head resigned.
“Leslie is going to kill me this time…” he sighed.
 
Bruce wore hastily his armor, using a meditation technique to shut the pain
receptors in his brain and to forget Alfred’s pained expression which filled
him with guilt even though he knew that he was doing the right thing.
He got inside the Tumbler and accelerated in stealth mode for the city, his
detail sure that he was resting inside the Manor. He parked the car in a
deserted allay some blocks away from the Opera House and used his grapple gun
to stir himself to a rooftop with a clear view to the building.
As he had expected, a big commotion was taking place in front of the Opera
House’s cathedral - like building; news crews were raging behind the perimeter
the police had set to keep them far from the ‘line of fire’, their shouts in a
crazy mix with the sirens of the police cars lined in attack stance before the
entrance. There were also many ambulances and a crowd of worried people. He
detected many SWAT members having scattered to the building’s surroundings,
ready to shoot at the first chance.
He could see also Commissionaire Gordon on the first line discussing with his
trusted officers, his hands on the waist and nodding thoughtful, his tilted
head a bit tired but his expression determined.
A deep blue Ford halted abruptly behind the perimeter and Batman saw Harvey
Dent and Rachel Dawes running to the police cars; a police officer made to stop
them but seeing the Gotham DA, raised the yellow tape and let them pass.
They approached Jim and immediately Harvey began talking with him. Batman could
discern worry in the young DA’s otherwise cool face yet Rachel Dawes although
showed some signs of anxiety, didn’t seem really worried. He frowned; Napier
was nothing more than her boss but still… Unless she knew his true identity.
Some movements caught his attention; in the back alley, where his parents were
killed, a team of five SWAT members approached the emergency door, ready to
burst in. He shook his head in disapproval and bit his lip. How could Jim have
agreed to that foolishness? Surely, they didn’t expect Joker not knowing that
door…
A sequence of shots rose from the building and Bruce wished Joker didn’t kill
anyone.
“I told youuuuu not attempt any insult, you morons!” Joker’s magnified voice
sounded all over the street. “Gordi, pull back your mutts from myyyyyy door,
because I’ll kill a hundred of our guests and throw their limbs to youuuuur
head. Capice?! Let me do my job, PEOPLE!’’
Gordon looked frantically around him and stormed to the SWAT leader who
apparently had acted without asking him.
“Call them back!” he gritted his teeth to the leader’s face and he obliged
shaken.
Harvey determined took the loudspeaker Montoya brought to him.
“Joker!” he called. “This is DA Harvey Dent!”
A girlish giggle flooded the air.
“Oh! I’m pink right now… HEHEHE! Ha-rvey Dent for littl’ ol’ me?! Oh, my God!
Can I have an autograph after I kill those fellas? BUHAHAHA!”
Harvey rolled his eyes and Rachel held his upper arm.
“You don’t have to kill these people, Joker! You’re surrounded! You can’t
escape; let them go.”
New laughter.
“And I’ll have a ffffffair trial? HAHAHA-HEHEHE! Wow! You’re un – be -
lievable! Wait to sweep my eyes from the tears… You’re surrounded!” he mimicked
Harvey’s solemn voice “You can’t escape! HUHUHUHAHAHA!’’ He cleared his throat.
“Harv, cut the crap with me!” his voice was dead serious and Batman felt his
sinister stare. “If youuuuuu want to play CSI Gotham, there are kids with guns
at the docks! BUHAHAHA-HEHEHEHEHEEEEEEE! CSI Gotham! Oh! I’m on a spreeeeeeee
tonight!” and the device he was using made a screeching sound ending the
exchange.
Harvey cast an exasperated gaze at Gordon who shook his head and took the DA
aside, leaving Rachel with a frown of annoyance for this clear sign of
mistrust.
“There’s an old, forgotten entry to the building” Jim whispered to Harvey. “The
Opera House and the next building was one solid Manor before its owner donated
it to the city a century ago. They used only the current building while the
rest was left to rot so that door was closed with bricks to stop burglars.
We’ll burst from there.”
“Batman? I don’t see the signal.” Harvey inquired in Jim’s ear so to not be
overheard.
“I didn’t want to expose him with Fury lurking… We have to manage on our own.”
The Commissionaire pressed his lips and cast a fleeting glimpse at the cloudy,
dark sky, almost regretting his decision.
Batman had heard their plan using the earbud Lucius had created; it was very
risky: even if Joker didn’t know about that access point, still the distance to
the performance hall was considerable, giving the criminal time to kill
everyone. However their preparations were giving him time to act.
He silently dived to the alley and heaved the metal seal leading to the sewers.
He slithered inside, lowering the seal back in its place.
Joker had wired the rooftop to stop Batman from landing there; what he forgot,
as almost everyone did, was that bats aren’t only birds but also rodents and
rodents thrive underground…
He followed the route that led inside the Opera House. When he discovered the
burrow in his cell and began exploring the new underground world, he found a
path that leads exactly inside the building; specifically, to the basement
where the props and the weathered old costumes were kept.
Sometimes he had found solace in there; playing with the costumes, dressing as
a king or a knight, waving the fake swords... However, he never dared to go to
the alley to lay a flower for his parents because he was sure that his masters
were watching the place and the memories from the one time Chill caught him
there were too horrible to even think about repeating it…
When he reached the spot where the forgotten ancient manhole was, he enabled
the scan to make sure that nobody was in the room. He soundlessly pushed the
seal and surfaced. The room was dark and he switched off the white light of his
lenses to be completely invisible; besides the night vision enabled him to
locate every human presence in the building.
Nobody was guarding the building’s basement so he walked outside the room. His
first priority was to discover the bombs and defuse them. He stretched his hand
and pressed a button concealed in the forearm part of his suit; a detailed
mini-sketch of the building rose in the air, illuminated with neon green – one
of Tony’s gift - gadgets. The bombs were represented with yellow-red spots
beating like hearts; they were located in every access to the Opera House and
in the rooftop while their cables were under the floor, obviously working like
the wiring of a mine.
The good thing was that he didn’t have to cut wires in the device to defuse the
bombs. As the data of the analysis showed, he could destroy the bombs by
blocking the sensors on the cables which could be done with the virus spread
system he had for silencing alarms.
Of course close to the bombs were thugs armed with rifles and if he attacked
them, he would alert Joker to his presence in the building. And he wanted first
to secure the hostages from the thugs’ guns and then to face the clown. So he’d
install sleeping gas bombs to start emitting the gas slowly, neutralizing the
henchmen and make it easier for the police to enter.
Evading the thugs was easy; during his training he had managed to evade even
Bane and Ubu, his trainers, and Joker’s henchmen were people with mental
disorders chosen not for their capabilities but for their unawareness of the
pain they caused.
He walked to the Opera’s grand entrance. They had lowered the metal grille in
front of the grand glass arched shaped door to block the view from outside; he
saw the thugs scattered around and hacked the building’s central power control
panel, switching off the lights of the reception hall. He heard the thugs’
curious exchanges and used their confusion to approach the wires of the first
bomb, blocking the weight sensors and then unplugging them from the bomb.
Leaving the hall, he stuck several sleeping gas bombs, ready to blow when he’d
order it.
He switched on the lights and slipped away.
“Just a fuse, boys; I told ya: no worries!” he heard one of them reassuring the
others.
He defused the bombs at the other two entries of the building without any
problem and headed for the rooftop where the signal showed a bomb but the color
changed as he got closer. He frowned and lowered even more his vitals to become
completely invisible.
On the rooftop he counted five thugs waiting with their guns ready; Joker was
expecting him even though he warned about the bomb. And he wanted him to land
on the rooftop because that bomb was a fake; the clown knew that Batman would
detect that and land. Bruce smirked and left the rooftop.
He looked at the diagram on his forearm and saw almost five hundred people, the
first who came to the Opera, at the grand hall with twenty thugs pointing their
rifles at them. In one of the dressing rooms was a person guarded by two armed
men. Also, on the stage of the hall he could see two people: one of them was
surely Joker and the other was in sitting position; the supposed Jack Napier.
So the clown planned to kill an innocent as Napier? He couldn’t be so naïve;
DNA examination would divulge his scheme.
He headed for the dressing room with the hostage and he saw Vicky Vale tied to
a chair with two armed goons guarding her. There was no bomb there so he just
sent one of his ‘invisible’ sleeping gas bombs under the door and to the room
and continued towards the grand hall.
As he crossed the corridor, he noticed that there was no security measures
there, despite the fact the corridor’s external wall was covered with large
arched windows which were targeted by the SWAT snipers. And Joker knew it; it
was a standard police tactic after all…
He turned his night vision to the glass panels and he saw clown faces glued
there; their material was like plastic but Bruce doubted it was something so
innocent. He scanned it and pressed his lips: the true danger was on the
windows. Joker wanted the snipers to fire! The clown faces was drenched in
nitroglycerin and was so tightly connected to one another that just a shot to
one of them would blow the rest of them like a domino, destroying the building
and a considerable part of the area because Bruce saw that the chain of happy
clowns covered even the walls…
If he wasn’t trained to be always cool, he’d be all sweaty now. He texted Jim’s
cell phone with the unpublished lips’ reading system Lucius had installed in
the wrist – patch of his armor.
“I’m inside. No shooting. Nitro in walls-windows. Wait my signal. Bat.”
Harvey took in Jim’s instant widening of the eyes and walked casually to him.
The Police Commissionaire was already calling the snipers to back off and the
SWATs who were ready to storm the building to stand by and don’t do anything
till he told them so.
“What?” the DA asked frowning.
“Our friend is inside” Gordon whispered. “The windows and walls are trapped
with nitroglycerin.’’
“Shit! How he got in there?” he whispered.
But Jim just shrugged and hurried to the bomb disposal experts.
Bruce didn’t know a thing about how to neutralize nitro so he pulled out of his
belt a little gadget Lucius gave him saying that if it was stuck on an
explosive substance, would stabilize it enough for the experts to defuse it. He
did just that and closed his eyes hoping that his friend was once again right.
Then he climbed the stairs to the gods above the performance hall where more
props were kept. He had a panoramic view of the gargantuan space.
The first unlucky people who came to watch the performance, were kept sat in
their seats, immobile but for a slight tremor. Twenty thugs at the hall’s
perimeter were pointing at them with their guns, while in the center of stage
which was transformed into Falcone’s office Joker himself was standing beside a
man bound to a chair.
Bruce didn’t believe in his eyes: the man on the chair was Napier! That was
impossible; Napier and Joker was the same person. He shook his head; he was far
so he couldn’t see details. Napier just dressed someone else with the same
clothes and applied make-up to him to fool them.
Anyway, he didn’t have the time right now. He scanned the room for explosive
devices and detected several odd bottles like those for filling balloons with
hellion placed at the ventilation pipes; they had pictures with Joker’s
laughing face on them: Joker would poison the people.
“Laaaaaadies and Gentl-e-men! You came here to laugh, to laugh at your tortured
Prince! Tsk, tsk, tsk!” he shook his head in disapproval. “To be honest” he
trotted at the stage, hunched in thought. “I had decided to kill youuuuu
aaaaall, as an example of what displeasing youuuuuur master brings.” He made an
abrupt twirl and faced the crowd with his finger raised. “Buuuuuut to prove
that I’m a geeeentle, generous soul and al’ that bullshit aaaand that I have
humor, I won’t kill you – nah! Nah! On the contrary, I’ll make you laugh as
never before… Buuuuut first, I’ll settle some things with this booooozo!” He
pinched the cheek of the bound and gagged tearful man on the chair.
Batman aimed at the first air vent and shot soundlessly a small bullet that
immediately began melting the seal of the vent in order to block the gas Joker
would eventually free. In a blink, he did the same with the other air vents. He
looked at the first vent and show that the seal had already melted; he pressed
his lips and pressed the button on his wrist, ordering the sleeping gas bombs
all over the building to emit their smoke. Then he launched cables that wrapped
around the chair that held the fake Napier and ordered the hacked power control
panel to shut the lights. Now! He sent to Jim.
Screams of terror flooded the space from the panicked audience.
“Shooooow time!” Joker’s screeching hysteric voice rose above the screams and
he resumed his giggles. “Lights on, please!” he hit his leg at the floor
stubbornly. “Ugh! I’m always losing the best!”
Joker frowned, hearing a hissing sound and felt a wave of air but nothing else
till his goons began shouting one to another confused.
“Fight, you idiots!” he ordered grinding his teeth and fumbled in the darkness
to find the emergency power supply.
People were hearing only gentle sounds of air yet the screams of pain from
their captors revealed to them that something grotesque was taking place. A
ghost or a demon attacking the criminals… They were afraid of what was
happening in the dark but nobody moved for fear of bullets from the guns the
goons held or the unknown ghost.
“It’s Batman…” an awed voice whispered and the whisper spread to the theater.
Joker heard the whispers and rolled his eyes.
“Wow! Those Gothamites are sooooooo clever!” he jeered and finding the switch
turned the lights on. “Tadaaaaa!!!!” he yelled beaming and made a deep bow to
the audience.
However he froze in mid bow; Napier was gone along with the chair and his boys
were piled at their spots unconscious. He took his walkie-talkie from the
pocket and called for backup but nobody answered. For a moment he clenched his
teeth but taking in the curious stares of his audience, he giggled
hysterically.
“I’m the greatest entertainer or what? I giiiiiive youuuuu the one and only…
BATSY!” Nothing black emerged and Joker shook his head shrugging. “Ugh! Stage
fright! Com’ on, com’on, darling…” he chanted. “We’re all fans of yours… Don’t
be shy… I’ll give you a bucquet…”
A black mass fell on him and a fist made of iron found his jaw to send him to
the wall of the stage, creating a hole to the scenery.
Joker from the stage’s floor upturned his fevered eyes; Batman was standing at
the center of the stage, imposing, with his hands fisted at his sides, glaring
at the clown with his white lenses flaring; his jaw was set. Joker giggled and
staggered to stand to his feet.
“Now, this is the third time in what? Less than 24 hours… Wow! This is what I
call karma, kismet, meira… We are meant to be together… Buuuut” he shook his
finger warningly “don’t hurry; I’m in love, you know…” he sighed “though I
haven’t seen my sweetie yet…” he rolled his eyes. “Anyway, now that I’ll kill
that Napier and those buffoons, I’ll be ready to meet my fiancé… Uuuuuu!” he
shook his shoulders as if he was experiencing goose bumps. “You can come
alooong, Batsy-baby; I didn’t ask Bru-cey…” he sniggered “buuuuuut when anybody
asked the poor thing for anything?”
“You won’t kill anybody” Batman’s growl was low and shuddering.
Joker tilted his head and looked him faking hurt.
“Don’t ruuuuuin my night…” he pouted. “After all, I promised them the laugh of
their life” he scratched the back of his neck “or their death…” he began
laughing and in a lightning movement he sent a blade conjured from nowhere at a
man sitting in the front raw.
Batman dived and with an almost lazy motion caught the blade, smashing it with
his foot.
“You’re quite THE spectacle you know” Joker laughed. “A Bat punching, kicking,
catching blades: just for the circus! Buuuuuut we’re toooooooo serious and
that’s gonna change…”
Batman focused his glare at Joker’s hand where a remote was now. Joker winked
to him and pressed the button with glee, spreading his arms to introduce his
grand attraction. He waited for a minute but nothing happened only those at the
seats closer to the vents gave some loud giggles.
Joker smirked and cast a lopsided glare at Batman.
“Pppparty pooper! Com’ on, let me see your true eyes glistening with malice,
bat-baby; I bet they’re black like the night, huh?”
Batman’s face was emotionless but for the tense line of his lips; he was
perusing the strange man when Joker jolted his head hearing the clear sounds of
an intrusion approaching.
“The joke ends here’’ he growled to the smiling clown.
Joker shook his head in disapproval, his greenish curls making his half
concealed eye more ominous.
“Don’t even think that you won, just because you neutralized my booby traps and
ruined my grand punch line…” his voice was steady and cold like ice and those
hearing him shuddered. “Nah, sugar, you didn’t manage anything… You just moved
the show in the backstage.” He brought his finger to press another key.
Realization hit Batman and he surged on the Joker, sending the remote away from
the man’s purple-dressed hands. Joker roared with frustration because this part
of the plan was crucial and shouldn’t fail. Batman was too strong and highly
trained but he had knowledge… He jolted the blade in his shoe and kicked the
man’s stomach where he knew that a tender wound lied.
The pain was sharp though the blade didn’t penetrate the armor’s material but
Bruce didn’t flinch: this was what the Joker wanted to find the chance to grab
the remote and kill the fake Napier; he was sure that the man had trapped the
chair in some way.
He punched him in the face to stop him but the clown just giggled; he tried to
find the pressure point to paralyze him yet he didn’t attempt to because the
man was moving frantically and Bruce didn’t want to kill him with a wrong
movement; this hesitation was what Joker looked for: he conjured another blade
and sunk it to Batman’s shoulder who just for a second jerked as Joker’s foot
simultaneously hit his aching ass.
Joker dived for the remote and snatched it, only to grunt furiously when
Batman’s hand grabbed his wrist wanting to crash it to stop him from executing
Napier.
“You’re fru-strating, you know that?” the clown hissed as SWAT police officers
swarmed the theater and people encouraged began flooding the corridors to
escape.
He knew that it was his last chance and he loved the idea. Joker yanked his
head and sunk his teeth to Batman’s exposed lips, a chunk falling inside his
mouth. He laughed triumphantly, swallowing the chunk of flesh and pressed the
button.
Bruce’s hidden eyes widened in disgust; not from the iron flavor in his mouth
but from Joker’s maniac stare and laughter. He jumped to his feet, leaving the
clown to the officers and launching himself to the gods.
He ran to the chair; the man was slumped in his bounds, a large blade
protruding from the middle of his chest, the blood drenching his weathered
clothes. Bruce overcame the wave of panic and searched for a pulse; it was too
faint, the man’s breathe ragged.
“Hold on; the ambulance is here” he said his voice hoarse.
He took the diamond blade from a compartment in his belt and cut the protruding
metal, making it easier to extract cautiously the man from the blade. He
released him from the chair and applied special gauze to the vast hole in the
man’s chest to stop the bleeding; although he feared that it was futile. He
hoisted the man carefully to take him to the paramedics.
The man opened his exhausted eyes and shook slightly his head; Bruce hastily
removed the gag. The man didn’t have any scars or signs of something odd in his
lips yet he looked very much like Napier. A doppelganger.
The man was trying to say something and Bruce stopped him.
“Don’t; keep your strength; I’ll take you to the paramedics.”
“Nnno” the voice was that of a very old person although the man was the same
age as Napier. “I’m… dying… Stop… him…”
“No, you’re not!” Batman said through gritted teeth and dived to the stage.
But he could hear the man’s breath shorten and the blood boiling in his mouth;
his half closed eyes were teary as Batman was lowering him to the stage
unnoticed by the SWAT officers who either chased Joker or escorted people to
the safe exits.
Paramedics were rushing to the stage and Bruce felt the man’s departing eyes on
him.
“Jjjjack Nnnapier tttthanks you…” his head lolled backwards and his eyes
closed.
Bruce was speechless but hearing the hurrying steps of the paramedics boosted
his body upwards, reaching easily the gods; his fevered eyes looking for the
fleeting form of the clown in the diagram of the building.
He saw him followed by a team of SWAT members and hurried to the rooftop where
the clown was heading. In his way there, he saw the SWAT members fooled by the
clown taking another route. He reached the rooftop, when the Joker jumped to
the void to re-emerge a couple of seconds later with a purple parachute bearing
his beaming face and a strange booster. His scars opened widely in a triumphant
grin and his gleeful green eyes focused on Batman’s lenses; he waved playfully
turning his parachute towards the city.
Batman made to jump following him but he heard a pair of light steps behind
him.
“Don’t move…” the voice was cool and very familiar; he heard the click of a
gun’s safety. “These bullets can penetrate Kevlar and titanium: don’t make me
use them, Mr. Wayne.”
It was Fury and he didn’t have time for this. Let him shoot! He dived, his cape
spreading like wings, taking him away. He felt Fury’s eye following him in the
sky, the gun unused in his hand.
But Joker was nowhere to be seen as much as he soared and scanned the area…
He was driving back to the Manor completely in auto pilot; his stitched wound
throbbed but there wasn’t any moisture; of course he had a new stab bleeding in
his shoulder as his bitten lip. However the pain was only a cloud in the
background; a man had died in his hands and it was his fault: he should have
untied the man before facing Joker, he should have known that the madman would
have installed a killing mechanism…
His chest pained; he didn’t care that his heart was protesting. He would give
anything to bring that man back, to change his actions. But he couldn’t go back
in time and the man died because of his stupidity. An innocent man who just
happened to resemble Napier…
Jack Napier thanks you…
The man had thanked him… For what?! For failing to save his life?! You’re
completely useless, Bruce… He closed his eyes; whatever curse he could say to
himself was too soft.
“Tell me, Bruce: aren’t you tired of causing innocent people’s deaths? To see
people dying in front of you?”
He pressed his eyes shut; his heart bleeding.
Jack Napier thanks you… The dying man said that he was Jack Napier. No, that
was impossible! Joker was Jack Napier. He just captured a man and brainwashed
him to believe that he is Jack Napier; maybe a poor mental patient.
Suddenly, the cowl was suffocating him. Maybe his theory was wrong and Jack
Napier wasn’t the Joker… Or something else was going on… He had the man’s blood
on him to search his DNA and he had Joker’s DNA, too.
Stop him… The man had whispered but he failed to. Joker once again escaped to
threaten more human lives… He hoped that at least he’d do what he said and
target him this time…
As the Tumbler stormed into the cave, he wished Alfred wasn’t there to see him
with the blood on his chin.
He stepped out of the car and walked to the computer bench, realizing that he
was exhausted and he needed to persuade his legs to make each step. Thankfully,
Alfred wasn’t alerted of his return. Yet. And Tony wasn’t here; he hoped that
his friend was safe and just was preoccupied with something.
He was so agitated that didn’t even sit; he pressed the key to see the results
of Joker’s DNA crossing. Of course… No match. He shook his head pressing his
lips and pulled off the cowl, the cool air of the cave helping him breathe.
His shoulders were slouched as he switched the processor’s receiver to the
Police’s frequency. He began extracting the blood samples of Joker’s victim
from his gloves and saving them in the special cases. Police officers were
reporting the news from the Opera House; the rescuing of the hostages and miss
Vale who was found unconscious along with her guardians, the death of ‘Jack
Napier’ – miss Rachel Dawes recognized the body; Bruce frowned -, the defuse of
the nitroglycerin, the escape of Joker, Batman’s alleged interference but no
mention of Fury.
He looked at the small gas bottle he took from the Opera for analysis. He’d
start analyzing as soon as he was finished with the samples.
“Mason from operation center” a female voice interrupted the reports from the
Opera House. “Dr. Quinzel reported a break out from Arkham Asylum; Jonathan
Crane is missing.”
Bruce stopped and looked at the screen; Jonathan Crane was the Asylum’s former
head psychiatrist, an insane genius who worked for Falcone using his talent in
chemistry to create drugs affecting human brain. How much worse can things
become in a night?
He sensed it before hearing the low sound that announced the arrival of the
last one he wanted to see; he closed his eyes tired before turning to stare at
the familiar blue and red clad figure.
 
***** Chapter 28 *****
Clark knew that Bruce was in the cave even before entering not only because his
senses, perfectly tuned to his Star’s vitals, told him so miles away from the
Manor, but also because he heard what had happened in the Opera House and the
‘alleged’ lifesaving intervention of Batman.
Nonetheless his heart gave an enthusiastic jolt at the view of the black clad
perfect body and the sweaty brunette hair framing the back of Bruce’s cute
head. Of course the man had already sensed his arrival and he turned to look at
him, so Superman had to be cautious to not goggle; seeing Batman without his
cowl, a gorgeous face completing the impressive body and posture, was one of
the most mesmerizing experiences he had in his life – at least, until Bruce’s
entirely naked body was united with his.
Wait… Bruce’s chin was covered with blood and Clark could see a quite big chunk
of his rosy lip cut. His eyes felt hot, the red waving inside: Joker was very
lucky that he wasn’t here! The madman who dared to brag that would claim his
Star had caused more injuries to that already tortured body.
“Stop scanning me!” Bruce’s voice was cold and irritated and Clark saw with
hurt that his sapphire-emerald eyes were steely.
Clark could understand his emotional state: a man had just died in his hands
and he must be exhausted. So he smiled in his warmest way yet Bruce set his jaw
untouched and looked at him coldly with his head slightly tilted.
“I don’t need to scan your body to figure out that Bruce Wayne’s flue was an
injury; and your lip is bleeding much: you should take care of that…” he
gestured to the man’s lip as if Bruce wasn’t aware of that already.
He fought the urge to rush to him and tend that tempting lip and the stab on
the shoulder that bled secretly under the armor; his Star must be in
considerable pain because his brain waves manifested that.
Bruce was watching in Clark’s eyes that the Man of Steel didn’t stop perusing
him for injuries or… anything else. Impatience filled him; he had so many
things to do, a man just died, for Goodness’ sake! Joker was already scheming
another hit, Crane escaped and exhaustion began catapulting his defenses, while
the most powerful being in the planet was wasting his time.
He wanted to sigh, because he felt bad for Clark: it wasn’t his fault after
all, that his heart was so tender that fell in Ra’s’ trap. But he should repel
the man and repel him again until he decided that he didn’t worth it. No; that
could happen only when Clark becomes immunized to him but he had to gain time
till then.
“What you didn’t understand from ‘back off’?” his glare was icy and his voice
the hoarse growl of Batman.
That glare and these words were like a stab but Clark just smiled sheepishly.
“Is that a standard welcome in Gotham?” he couldn’t stop looking the blood that
dripped from the maimed lip although he wanted to – it was a child-like lip…
Bruce brushed harshly his chin to sweep the blood that kept Clark’s eyes and
attention.
“You have to leave now!” he demanded, his body tense with resolution and his
voice cruel; he wanted to use tougher words but he couldn’t utter them, seeing
those blue eyes filled with affection.
Superman crossed his arms self confidently and shook his head in the negative.
Bruce’s eyes narrowed.
“No, Star, I won’t!” he was determined and moved towards Bruce.
Bruce raised his head proud and determined and brought his palm in front of
him, stopping Superman on his heels. The Man of Steel smiled at the way that
man who everybody considered a poor victim was able to stop Superman only with
a gesture and an enchanting angry glare. Yet he felt also affronted; he wasn’t
Chill or Falcone or whoever!
“You act as if I’m going to attack you!” he protested. “I’m with the good guys,
remember? And I’ll never attack you, Bruce! For God’s sake!”
Bruce lowered his hand but kept his cold stare.
“Just stay away from me” he turned to the computer bench, completely ignoring
Clark, hoping that the man would leave.
But he could hear the tranquil, strong respiration of the hero and feel his sad
eyes watching him as he was putting the fake Napier’s samples to the processor
for analysis and crossing. Why don’t you leave, Clark?
A slight change in the alien’s breath told him that he was losing his patience.
Good.
“Why are you treating me like this, Bruce?” Bruce closed his eyes: it was going
to be more difficult. “At least, tell me what I’ve done to deserve that?” Bruce
felt Superman’s pain and it wasn’t a nice feeling; he bit his already busted
lip. “For God’s sake, at least look at me, Star!” he was pleading, Bruce
realized and suddenly the exhaustion and the blood loss registered. “I
understand that you can’t handle my love... yet…” Bruce felt his head surged by
a wave of dizziness and kept pushing buttons on the gadget.
Clark felt on the verge of tears or a meltdown – frankly, he couldn’t decipher
what his body was telling him. And he could scan the signs of weakness and
discomfort in his Star’s body yet Bruce’s stance was enraging him, as much as
depressing him at the same time.
“I can be your friend and if even that is difficult for you… I can be your
partner.”
This had to end, Bruce decided. He braced himself and turned to face Superman,
frowning inside seeing anger and hurt competing in the alien’s face; he was
destroying the man… He cursed himself and Ra’s but kept his eyes untouched and
hostile.
“I work alone!” he turned his back to Clark’s shocked stare.
Superman smirked and sniggered.
“And we just saw the results of that” his voice’s poison frightened him but he
couldn’t stop. “A man died because of you! Because you’re too arrogant to ask
for help!”
He realized what he had uttered only after it was done; he expected Bruce to
snap at him but the only reaction he detected was a sharp inhale as if a knife
stabbed his heart. And Superman knew that the second bleeding stab in his
Star’s body was his deed but as much as regretted the pain he caused he also
felt a cruel joy.
Bruce resumed his work on the gadget without turning.
“Now you’re finished, you can leave…” Bruce’s voice was nonchalant and sharp
like the blade Superman’s words had formed.
Clark rubbed his temples; this man was impossible.
“You didn’t brief me about the attempt against me: I’m sure you researched it.”
Bruce’s hand stayed midair.
“You’re right but many things happened and now I don’t have the time…”
Superman approached; the cape even though hid his Star’s body didn’t make the
appeal less. Yet he was feeling the irritation boiling inside him for the
mortal’s snooty attitude.
“I know I’m not important enough…” his laugh was snarky. “It was Luthor, right?
He signed a deal with Dagget for a mine in Tanzania: I went there to
investigate and it was lead lined to stop me from seeing inside: they are
preparing to hit me with something new and powerful, right? And you know what
that is, don’t you?” Bruce’s gloved hand stayed on the machine without doing
anything but the man still didn’t face him and that was… He clenched his teeth.
“I want the bullet you extracted from the wound.”
“I can’t give you the bullet” Bruce answered low but resolute. “You have to
trust me.”
That was too much for his self control. He grabbed Bruce’s upper arms and
turned him violently to face him, pinning him to the bench, his body of steel
trapping him. However his Star’s eyes were shining defiantly without a trace of
fear and Superman felt every cell in his body moving to meet Bruce’s cells. He
shook him.
“How can I trust you when you don’t even look at me?!” his eyes were mesmerized
by the slow dripping of blood on his lip as if he was a vampire thirsty for
centuries. The draw to his own lips was powerful like Bruce’s lips were a
magnet. He lowered his mouth to taste the blood and the enticing flesh that
seemed so familiar.
“Don’t!” the mortal snapped without a trace of fear, his eyes demanding; the
emerald stars inside his irises immobile, piercing the alien’s eyes.
Superman raised his hand to caress but held it midair, seeing Bruce’s eyes icy
and unyielding, unmoved by his love.
“What I did wrong? Tell me at least that to apologize…”
“You did nothing wrong” Bruce felt his voice slightly bent; this emotional
exhaustion was worse than the physical and Clark was too close, enhancing the
addiction and the effect on his powers. “I warned you about my odious
character…” he gave his voice all the sarcasm he could master. “Leave now, I
have more important things to do.” He knew that his only chance to keep Clark
away from him was to make him angry, to make Clark hate him, so to understand
even before the antidote was administered to him; because he was afraid that
even after Clark became immunized to the effect some doubts would still be
there and he didn’t want the man wasted on him.
He saw undeterred the beautiful eyes of the Man of Steel becoming red, yet he
didn’t use any of the techniques Ra’s taught him to evade the alien’s power.
But instead of a blow, Clark tried to capture his lips.
“Back. Off!” he growled low and Clark halted abruptly; Bruce could feel his hot
breath caressing his lips and his hands bruising his upper arms even under the
suit; a bit more and he’d break bones.
Clark’s eyes clear of the red focused on Bruce’s cold ones and the Man of Steel
released Batman’s upper arms. He was aware that Bruce could easily escape his
grasp if he wanted but he was testing him and he had failed.
“I’m sorry, Bruce…” his voice was resigned and Bruce felt miserable.
Before retreating, Superman cast a last glance at Bruce’s busted lip and with
his thumb gathered gently the blood that oozed from the wound. The younger man
shuddered but didn’t change his cruel gaze as the imposing man distanced
himself like a beaten puppy keeping his apologizing eyes on Bruce’s dead ones.
A low hissing sound made Bruce’s body even more tense; not now. But Ironman
positioned himself between him and Clark, glaring at the alien, his fists
clenched.
“I think that the man was clear enough; back off, buddy!” Tony’s voice was
determined but not hostile.
Clark felt again enraged, seeing his rival and knowing that after he left that
stupid billionaire would have his Star.
“I told you, Stark! He doesn’t need your protection! After all, when he needed
it, you were partying and fucking around!” his voice was pure evil but he
enjoyed seeing Ironman launching ready to attack him.
“Stop right now! Both of you!” Batman growled and both superheroes halted.
“What’s going on here, sirs?” Alfred’s cool, gentle voice invaded the turmoil
with interest.
Bruce took a deep breath and turned to his butler.
“Nothing, Alfred; just a… dispute.”
But Alfred was too clever for that and raised an eyebrow; he could detect his
young master’s distress better than Superman’s brain wave reading ability. He
approached Bruce.
“I think you need a nice hot bath, some stitches and a good dinner before
sleep, sir.”
Bruce looked at him ready to reply that he had work to do yet Alfred’s gaze was
unyielding and the youth realized that it was the best solution right now to
end the crisis. He followed the emotional safety of Alfred to the lift, leaving
Ironman and Superman glaring at each other.
Yet Clark wasn’t going to let go.
“If you want me to leave and never return, say it and I’ll do it” he snapped at
Bruce’s leaving form.
Alfred frowned to his master but Bruce turned to Superman resolute with the
same cold gaze and a smirk.
“You finally understood. That is what I want.”
“Ha!” Superman spat and everyone except Bruce goggled. “You’re stopping your
brain from showing signs of telling lies but if you were telling the truth you
wouldn’t need so much effort.”
Bruce pressed his lips, enhancing the blood flow and shook his head before
entering the lift followed by Alfred who despite his cool demeanor was shocked.
Clark closed his eyes, Bruce’s sad last stare piercing his body that still
urged him to chase him to snatch his body.
Tony waited till the lift was out of sight and turned to Superman deactivating
his face plate to regard him with his real eyes. His face was distorted in a
grimace of disgust.
“You monitor his brain activity?!” he burst out. “You’re really sick and it’s
not funny!”
But Superman just raised his fist and took off.
Bruce wasn’t in the mood to talk and Alfred didn’t try to start a topic until
they entered the master bedroom and his young master rushed to his notebook.
Alfred took gently the notebook and placed it again on the nightstand under
Bruce’s gloomy stare.
“You should take a bath, sir; it will relieve you and then we’ll take care of
your new injuries that I’m sure that lie under that suit” his voice was soft
and cautious because he knew that Bruce was in pain.
“I’m fine, Alfred; don’t worry about me…” he answered and sat on the mattress,
beginning unclasping the different parts of his armor.
Alfred hurried to assist.
“Do you care to elaborate on what just happened, sir?”
Bruce knew that it was rude yet he shook his head in dismissal.
“No, Alfred, I don’t” he was shocked at how much exhaustion his voice emanated.
Alfred bit his lip not only from the blatant refusal but also from the sight of
a new nasty stab on Bruce’s shoulder and the finger shaped bruises at his upper
arms. At least, the stitches on the stomach were intact.
“As you wish, Master Wayne” he smiled warmly.
He watched as the young man walked to the bathroom and gathered the parts of
the armor to a chair before bringing the medical kit from his bedroom.
He found Bruce already out of the bathroom wrapped in the bathrobe and silently
began treating the stab wound. Alfred touched lightly the bruises and Bruce’s
eyes came to meet his.
“Pardon my curiosity, sir, but is this why you spoke so rough to mister Kent?”
“It’s not his fault, Alfred” he replied vaguely and took away his gaze.
“I beg to differ, Master Bruce” he protested calmly beginning to sew the wound
“if he bruised you, then it’s his fault.”
Bruce looked at the dark sky outside the window.
“Clark is good; too good for me and he must leave…”
It was a blow to Alfred’s guts, his boy believing that he wasn’t good enough
because of what these people did to him.
“Mister Kent cares about you, sir, and you… I know that you … like him” Bruce
cast him a dark stare. “Yes, indeed; I saw your agony when he was injured, I
saw you sleeping beside him to look after him even in your sleep. You care
about him too, Master Bruce; why do you have to ban him from your life?”
“Exactly for that” he snapped and made to stand but Alfred didn’t let him and
continued the stitching, struggling with his emotions.
“I don’t mean any interference, Master Bruce” the young man looked
affectionately at him and smiled warmly to let him know that he could speak.
“But now that those monsters are gone, you could let some sunshine enter your
life.”
Those monsters are gone… Bruce felt a bleeding hole in his chest. My good
Alfred…
“Bats don’t stand the sunshine…” he laughed.
However Alfred wasn’t fooled.
“Are you still in pain, sir?”
Bruce tried to scatter Alfred’s worry, smiling bitterly.
“Of course I am, Alfred; you’re stitching me, my lip bleeds and a man died
because of me…” he couldn’t mention Clark.
“It wasn’t your fault, sir, that Jack Napier was killed; you did everything to
save him and you did save all these people. Weren’t for you, I’m afraid that
there would have been many casualties. Don’t blame yourself.”
Bruce avoided Alfred’s kind eyes. At least, the caring man had forgotten the
other topic.
“It was my mistakes that cost his life; if I had acted slightly differently, he
would be alive now…”
“I know that a human life is priceless but tonight hundreds of people returned
to their loved ones unscathed thanks to you; also you saved Commissionaire
Gordon and Mister Dent from being responsible for the death of all these
people, because everyone knows that Police wouldn’t have managed to handle that
man. Thus, I’ m aware that the burden of the guilt is crashing but… please,
Master Bruce, don’t close your eyes to the vast good you made.”
Bruce focused his eyes on Alfred’s and smiled restrained.
“And” Alfred raised his voice “don’t think that I forgot the pain issue” he
lowered his voice. “It’s still aching?’’
They didn’t need the exact words to understand each other. Bruce nodded; after
the adrenaline had subsided and the incident with Clark the pain down theretook
a central position in his awareness. To remind him of who he was… he thought
but didn’t utter it, because Alfred’s caring, smart eyes were already
scrutinizing him.
Alfred didn’t like it; he was always afraid of what these people had left to
his young master apart from the wounds in his soul which would bleed for years
if not forever. He didn’t even stand the thought of his boy’s organism being
also contaminated by them. He finished the stitching and pulled out his
glasses.
“Leslie called me while you were… jaunting; she was furious and the only thing
that could tame the tigress was my promise that the morning of the day after
tomorrow I’ll take you to the clinic. Please, come willingly, because I can
only imagine what the kind, benevolent press of Gotham would say if they see me
dragging you bound to the clinic…”
Bruce nodded, laughing, although Clark’s suffering was clenching his heart.
The door opened and both of them looked at Tony, dressed in his silken gold and
red robe and his hair still wet. The billionaire stood abruptly and shrugged.
“What? I had a shower…” he approached fast the two men and hastily covered
Bruce’s still undressed torso with his robe. “You never know who could be
watching…” he mumbled and Bruce cast him a glance reminding him Alfred’s
presence.
Alfred lifted an eyebrow, catching the sign, and closed the wound on the lip
with a small butterfly stitch.
“There you are, sir… Now, I’ll go downstairs to fetch your dinner – yours too,
Master Anthony. Meanwhile, I expect you” his stern stare caught Tony “to make
sure that your friend wears his pajamas and lie at his bed.”
Tony saluted military style.
“Aye, aye, sir!”
Bruce stood and tilted his head, rolling his eyes.
“Alfred, I’m not eight years old…”
Alfred looked at Bruce stern and scornful.
“Then I suggest you stop behaving like one, sir” Alfred left proud the room and
Tony erupted in a loud laughter.
Bruce shook his head and pulled off his robe to wear his pajamas, neatly
settled on the bed. Tony watched his friend’s naked body not without
admiration. Lean yet lined with perfectly shaped muscles which emanated
strength in the slightest motion.
“You know, we must ‘dress’ the walls and windows of the bedroom with lead:
Superman has become a creep…”
Bruce stared at him lopsided, ending his dressing.
“It’s not his fault that he is behaving like this…” he took a deep breath. “And
he isn’t a creep” he said definitely “he’d never peep on me.”
Tony rolled his eyes.
“It’s creepy, buddy… I saw it just now and in LA.”
The younger man narrowed his eyes.
“Superman was in LA?”
Tony nodded.
“He assisted me to save the Bridge when a scum I chased caused an explosion…
Actually, I didn’t need him but… Anyway, I don’t like what I see; the man –
what man? – the UFO is losing it.”
Bruce’s eyes widened and Tony saw him going paler. He left his chair and
approached his friend; he patted him on the unwounded shoulder.
“We’ll heal him, little guy” he reassured him his voice gentle yet Bruce didn’t
seem relieved. “Just do me a favor… Have the kryptonite bullet always with
you…” his voice became even lower and hoarse.
Bruce shook his head in refusal and Tony closed his eyes exasperated.
“I won’t harm Clark; all this mess isn’t his fault and he is already suffering
enough.”
Tony sighed, opened his eyes and grabbed Bruce’s upper arms, causing a little
flinch when he touched the bruises. His carbon like eyes dived into Bruce’s.
“Believe me, Bruce; I don’t like seeing him like that, too. But he is losing
his self control and his attraction to you is…” he inhaled deeply. “He could
attack you, injure you or even…” he closed his eyes “kill you. And when
recovers it’d be worse for him than any kryptonite.”
Still Bruce shook his head in negation biting his wounded lip and Tony put his
finger to his friend’s lips stopping him.
“He’ll never attack me…” Bruce protested.
Tony shook his head, rubbing his forehead.
“He just did, Bruce! You’re bruised.”
“I don’t need kryptonite to repel him” Bruce retaliated and detached himself to
go to his notebook.
Tony let his hand drop resigned at his side, making the mental note to go to
Lucius’ laboratory with the first daylight.
“You didn’t tell Alfred, huh?”
Bruce sat on the mattress and opened the notebook; his eight year old self and
the teen Tony smiling playfully to him. He shook his head.
“Why?” he walked to him.
Bruce raised his eyes.
“He heard me at the trial recounting the tortures and the rapes I’ve been
through; he watches me daily suffering from those fucking nightmares no matter
how well I hide it.” He breathed slowly. “How do you think he’ll feel when I
tell him that they also mutated me? He had had enough pain because of me…”
Tony sat beside him and wrapped his arm around his shoulders.
“He is a very tough old man, you know; and he’ll be pissed when he finds out –
not to mention Leslie’s reaction…” he widened his eyes suggestively.
“They won’t find out…”
Tony had his doubts but he didn’t press the matter.
Bruce was perusing the news about the incident in Vincent Thomas Bridge and the
pictures of Superman talking with Ironman; the alien’s nervousness obvious to
him.
“I was fighting with a bozo when Jarvis informed me for the blast; I found the
UFO holding the faulty part of the Bridge and mending the damage with his heat
vision.” He searched Bruce’s eyes “You could have told him about the substance”
he said softly “Maybe he could restrain himself…”
“Or maybe he could do something extremely dangerous to himself in order to
protect me and the other people…”
Tony rolled his eyes.
“This is what you‘d have done being in his place” he tried to keep his voice
calm. “You’re just projecting your benevolence to him.”
“I’m not!” he protested. “Superman is the kindest being on Earth and he’d
prefer harming himself than anyone other.” Tony rolled his eyes, twisting his
lips in annoyance. “Or he would try to prove to me that his…” he coughed and
averted his gaze “love isn’t the effect of the drug and that would bring him
here and…” he took in Tony’s knowing stare. “What?”
“You have given it much thought, haven’t you?”
He cast him an irritated glare.
“He is in danger because of me” Tony closed his eyes “and I know that if he
learns the truth, his worry will be for me, because he is kind and…naïve. I
want him to forget all about me – no, hate me – even before he takes the
antidote…”
Tony who wasn’t very proud about his empathy could easily discern the pain that
was hidden in his friend’s words. Bruce stared at him; with all these he didn’t
ask his friend.
“Wait! You said fighting? Are you alright, Tony?”
Tony smiled lopsided for that token of Bruce’s love.
“Pepper can confirm that…” he winked, smirking and Bruce shook his head.
“She’ll be in Gotham tomorrow. And it was a buffoon… A canned sardine!”
Bruce frowned.
“But you didn’t catch him?”
Tony raffled his messy hair awkward.
“Have to remind you of Joker’s escape or it’d be a hit below the belt?”
Bruce tilted his head.
“I just want to point that he may not be a ‘buffoon’… You said ‘canned’?”
“Aha. He had assembled a tin – a crappy copy of Ironman – in black, obviously,
he imitates you, as well… On the other hand” he frowned “he knew how my armor
works – hmm… almost – and even had my weapons – almost. And… I returned where I
left him and I didn’t find him… And he breached Stark Industries’ security to
lure me to a fight…”
“Not a buffoon, then…”
“He is only an impostor; exactly the same armor: shape, characteristics,
thickness and gauge.”
Bruce nodded.
“Then he’s a real considerable opponent” Tony looked him affronted. “He managed
to find your armor’s secrets, Tony, and manufacture a near perfect copy; this
isn’t negligible. How he gained access to this information? Huh?”
Tony’s eyes narrowed; he shook his head frustrated: not now, he had to protect
Bruce from a desperate alien and a homicidal maniac, finding a complex antidote
and he didn’t have the time for an opponent.
“He couldn’t have hacked Ironman files, only you managed that and I have fixed
the weakness…” Bruce smiled wickedly, raising his eyebrows challenging.
“How about S.H.I.E.L.D.?” he asked seriously. “Do they have any access to
Ironman?”
Tony tilted his head: Bruce’s prejudice against S.H.I.E.L.D.
“No they don’t; I wouldn’t have trusted them with such crucial information –
you insult me, buddy.”
“I said access, not necessarily with your consent.”
“They are useless with technology, little guy; it was me that showed them the
light.”
“Are you sure?” his gaze was intense.
Now Tony felt irritated: he wasn’t stupid after all.
“Of course I am! You’re simply biased against S.H.I.E.L.D. because it’s
unthinkable for you to join a team!” he looked at his friend’s eyes “Not that
this is necessarily bad…” he added hastily.
“Fury threatened Batman with a gun tonight…” Bruce commented indifferently,
selecting a video with Harvey’s statements after the Opera House operation.
Tony jolted, his eyes spitting fire.
“He is an asshole! I warned him, the dork! I’ll…”
“You won’t do anything, Tony” Bruce stopped him calmly. “If you go now and
confront him, it’d be like admitting that I am Batman – and this is what he
wants. After all, you need to stay inside to research.”
The older man wasn’t satisfied.
“I hate waiting…” but his eyes caressed his friend’s brunette locks and sat
again; if Bruce managed to wait eighteen years in torture, he could wait some
time too.
“Miss Rachel Dawes, Jack Napier's legal representative , affirmed that the dead
man in the Opera House is indeed the actor” Harvey’s solemn voice addressed the
stretched microphones of the reporters. “There are no other casualties both
from civilians and police officers; Joker’s thugs are in custody and Police are
scourging the city for their leader.”
“Bruce Wayne is next in Joker’s list?’’ a plumb reporter asked.
 Tony cast an intense stare at his friend’s indifferent face; of course his
friend had nothing to be afraid of: he was there to blow up that loony before
even lay a finger on him.
Harvey had his hand on the waist.
“We won’t permit that or any other citizen being in danger.”
“Tell that to Napier!” someone spat and some heads nodded.
Harvey looked at them solemnly.
“What happened was a tragedy and I personally am deeply sorry for this man’s
death as everyone in this city …”
“I bet Wayne is partying right now!” someone laughed.
The DA struck him with a deadly glare.
“I don’t see anyone other laughing but you… We have taken every possible
measure to protect the city and the people and I assure you that Joker would be
soon where he belongs.”
“The people in the Opera House where saved not by you but only because Batman
was there…’’
“Hostages stated that they saw him fighting with Joker…”
“I can’t confirm that” Harvey said nonchalant although he was grateful to the
man for his intervention.
“Is it true that Joker had wired the whole building planning to blow up the
entire area?”
“What measures did you take to protect the city?”
“You don’t expect me to answer that” Harvey furrowed.
“You’ll ask the aid of national guard?”
Harvey raised his head and set his jaw.
“Gotham is a great city with wonderful people and is perfectly able to manage
herself; tonight something horrible happened due to a madman but panic won’t
help. We’ll stop this madness without external aid.”
Bruce stopped the video as Harvey left the reporters.
“Joker said that tonight was his third encounter with Batman; he figured out
that Freddy was Batman’s disguise” he pressed his lips. “Anyway, Freddy was
finished already… If only that man in the Opera hadn’t died…”
“Poor Jack…” Tony shook his head “He was eccentric, a jerk some times, yet he
didn’t deserve that; he’d been through a lot… At least, now you realized that
he wasn’t the Joker…”
“As a matter of fact no.”
“You’re unbelievable!” Tony exclaimed frustrated. “The man is dead, for pity’s
sake! Dead by Joker's hand!”
Bruce nodded, opening two pictures on the screen: one of Jack Napier and one of
Joker.
“The man who died in my hands wasn’t Napier; he wasn’t the man I met at your
party, the one that came here to invite me…” he shook his head. “No, he wasn’t;
maybe a brainwashed thug or mental patient because he said to me Jack Napier
thanks you…”
Tony raised his eyes to the ceiling sighing.
“You have a really brilliant mind, Bruce, but your biases… Ugh! The man told
you with his last breath that he was Napier: what more do you want to let go of
your theory? He was in a highly traumatic situation, dying; he couldn’t be the
same as every day, could he?”
“He wasn’t the person I met” a beep from the notebook alerted him that the
comparison of Joker’s and Napier’s DNA was done.
He opened the program and Tony immediately understood. He pointed the two DNA
patterns with his index finger.
“You’re comparing Joker’s DNA with that of Jack… They don’t match…” he shook
his head for emphasis, his eyebrows raised; Tony with his knowledge didn’t need
to read the conclusion. “I told you, Bruce; they’re not the same person” he
added resolutely when Bruce opened the conclusion.
Bruce pressed his lips.
“Of course they’re not: the man who died tonight wasn’t Jack Napier; was a poor
victim chosen due to his resemblance to Napier. For instance, he didn’t have
any scars or anyway something odd around his mouth.”
Tony pressed his palms to his eyes, sighing in disbelief.
“Jack Napier didn’t have any scars and the ‘odd’ thing you say that he had
around his lips could have been some prosthetic, an eccentricity of the man.
And his legal representative recognized him; don’t you think that she knows
better?” his gaze at Bruce was tired.
Bruce returned to the screen.
“I don’t trust her…”
Tony stood and walked inside the room; he loved Bruce as much as himself –
maybe more – but now he was infuriating.
“Something off with her, too?” he didn’t want it yet the irony waved his voice.
“Com’ on, little guy: I know the man insulted you, he planned to ridicule your
martyrdom; he hurt you so it was reasonable to suspect him.” He approached
again and squatted beside Bruce. “But now is over; the man is dead by the
criminal you suspected him to be. You made a rational assumption that proved
wrong; no big deal: you just move on to a new. OK?”
Tony’s puppy eyes had a great impact on Bruce who thought that his friend was
scared for his sanity. And he wanted to soothe his fears but it wasn’t an
obsession…
“I’m sure that if I had the DNA of the Napier I met at your party, it would
match Joker’s…”
Tony made a growling sound of frustration and yanked his head so violently that
he almost fell to the floor.
“I didn’t have you for so opinionated! And people are calling me arrogant!”
Bruce looked at him like a wounded puppy.
“Anyway, when Police makes the DNA confirmation, you’ll be persuaded…”
Alfred’s knock on the door stopped the discussion and Tony opened the door for
the butler. He placed the tray with the dinner for two on the table and rushed
to his young master.
“Master Bruce, I swear one of these days I’ll break that thing!” he took the
notebook and placed it to the nightstand. “You need rest.”
“Right, Al; it’ll help him clean up his head…”
Bruce cast him a menacing glare and Tony showed him his tongue.
“You, Master Anthony, need that too. I trusted you to make him lie down and I
find you two arguing. Both of you are outrageous!”
Tony scratched his head.
“So no TV tonight?”
Bruce let a small laugh escape and Alfred insulted looked at him sternly.
“Lie down now, sir; first dinner and then sleep. Both of you!”
Tony walked to Alfred who was supervising Bruce being settled under the
blankets.
“C'mon, Al” he pouted “tomorrow is Saturday; we don’t have school!’’
“I expected more maturity from you, Master Anthony… and not… mocking me” he
exclaimed completely stony faced and Tony gave him a peck on the cheek.
“I’m not ‘mocking you’, Alfred; only teasing you. You know you’re my favorite
nanny and you know that I can’t say no to him – I never could… As much as you…”
he winked giving him a one armed hug.
Bruce was watching them fondly; the truth was that he couldn’t eat but for the
sake of those two he would. He wanted so much to sleep, to lose himself in the
safety of that love surrounding him; to forget everything else: the pain that
throbbed in his body and the pain he caused…
 
Superman was standing on the roof of their old barn at Smallville, watching the
horizon with his hands folded on his chest. He was still upset and only his
Ma’s even breath from the bedroom was calming him. At first he thought to talk
to her yet he didn’t want to jar her.
The cool night breeze of Kansas was brushing his hot face, bringing the
familiar and beloved smell of hay, trying to appease him. He closed his eyes
and sighed. He was insulted, he was treated like a rat, he was just thrown out…
and he didn’t deserve that. At least, that’s what he believed, because the man
he blindly trusted and loved didn’t even grant him the reason for his
malevolence. He didn’t even grant him the chance of an apology.
And his dignity didn’t stand that; he was doing good every day of his life, he
had helped that ungrateful man to save his city and himself without asking for
anything but for his friendship. Okay, maybe Bruce wasn’t capable of
friendship… No, no… He was friend with that girl, Selina, with that dork, Stark
– and frankly Clark had done more things for him than ‘Tony’. He didn’t demand
his love; he didn’t press him; what he asked was to be allowed to show his
affection – what’s wrong with that? And his good intentions were met with
rudeness and evilness…
Maybe the brat enjoyed that: now that he escaped his abusers he craved for some
entertainment and what better than causing pain to the Man of Steel, the most
powerful man of the planet? It’d be a nice revenge against manhood that caused
him so much pain and humiliation and the stupid, love-sick alien was the ideal
victim… Maybe Bruce truly wasn’t worthy of his love… Maybe he should never
again cast him a glance or give him a thought… After all, the only thing he
learnt in his life was to be a whore; so he took his sensitive from loving him
heart and broke it as a really evil whore would do… Superman felt a painful
stab in his heart; Bruce was the evilest whore in the universe! A whore
sculpted by Ra’s Al Ghul; just a tool for bringing pain.
He raised his eyes to the clear sky and gazed at the stars; there was a small,
but beautiful, star shining lonely in a corner. He felt a tear sliding his
cheek: it was his Star… His eidetic memory replayed the horrible things Bruce
had testified at Falcone’s trial which was only a speck of what he experienced
all these years at the hands of the monster… And then he heard again his voice
relating to Stark how Falcone tortured him to force him curse his dead parents…
the true despair with which he had nestled in his body the day he saved him
from Flass… Or the way those star sapphires were looking at him when Clark
tried to warm him the night he was dying from Al Ghul’s poison…
“I’m already dead...”
“No, you’re not...”
“Your eyes are so beautiful like the sky over the Palisades on a sunshine
summer day. It’s been too long since I last saw that sky... It was so warm
then... You are too warm and too bright and too pure... Too warm and bright and
pure for me... I’m dark and cold...”
He clenched his teeth so hard that if he wasn’t Superman his teeth or his jaw
would have broken; he wanted to scream and only this way could stop himself
from waking his Ma and everyone in the continent. He could feel Bruce’s pain
yet he knew that this was only an immeasurably small percentage of the pain his
Star was experiencing every day of his life…
No, Bruce wasn’t playing with him; Bruce was suffering as much as he – maybe
more – for treating him like that, for causing him pain; Clark had seen it in
his eyes when he told him that he monitored his brain waves…
You’re sick… Stark had said and now that he was calmer, that his body was
somewhat cooler, he had to admit that the billionaire was right.
Bruce was a beautiful star; yet a frail star, a star covered with scars –
Clark’s super vision could discern even the scars from his childhood; from the
first rape… A star that would shatter in the first blow…
Yes, but this was no reason to treat him like that, an angry voice retaliated.
It wasn’t his fault that he was unlucky; after all, there are thousands of
people with the same traumas as him that don’t torture innocent people who
happen to fall in love with them. He felt enraged. The only solution was to
grab Bruce and isolate him somewhere – maybe in the Fortress – away from
foreign influence to show him the truth of his love; okay, Bruce knew how to
repel him yet he always could summon more power to subdue him till he realized
that he only wanted the best for him.
You fool, he berated himself, you heartless rat! Bruce is right to throw you
out; he sees the truth behind your words: you’re going to do to him what the
other scums did. He is afraid of you… No, Bruce isn’t afraid; he is the bravest
man on earth. He tries to protect you from yourself; that’s the reason he
struggles to keep you away: to protect you. You dork! You’re so eager to curse
him, to anathematize him while he is protecting you… My beautiful, my gentle
Star!
He was ready to take off for the Wayne Manor to hold his Star in his arms and
soothe him, reassure him.
“Clark? Why you didn’t come inside?”
He stared shocked at his Ma wrapped in her fleece mahogany robe looking at him
from the ground, a slight complaint in her voice. Since Jonathan Kent’s death
she felt very lonely, despite the fact she hid it perfectly, so whenever her
son had the chance and didn’t come to speak to her she was heartbroken.
And he didn’t heard her so familiar steps neither her beloved heartbeat
approaching. He felt… panic?
He dived to meet his Ma, embracing her as soon as he landed. Martha laughed
from her son’s powerful hug.
“Cut the blarney, boy; you were ready to leave without saying hello to your
Ma…”
Clark kissed her cheek.
“Sorry, Ma; I just didn’t want to wake you up.”
Martha made a dismissing sound, her eyes smiling as she tilted her head.
“You didn’t want me to see you sad, eh boy?” she rubbed his back. “Who wounded
your kind heart?”
Clark blinked and pressed his lips.
“Things are complicated, Ma; and I’m not innocent… I… I’m behaving…” he sighed
“I’m not myself lately.”
Martha narrowed her eyes.
“What’s going on, Clark?” she asked worried. “They attacked you again with
kryptonite?”
“I don’t know what’s going on, Ma… And, yes, someone shot me with a kryptonite
bullet.”
His mother brought her hand in her mouth.
“My God! And you didn’t tell me anything…”
“Everything went smoothly, Ma, and you have so many things…”
She raised her index finger accusingly.
“And now I’ll have more knowing that you keep things from your Ma. Who helped
you? I want to thank him or her because if I lose you too…” her voice shook
from tears she didn’t shed.
Clark’s heart melted remembering how Bruce exerted himself to save him; how
beautiful it was to wake up to see his Star sleeping beside him. And he was
thinking ill for him just a few minutes ago…
“He doesn’t want to be thanked for the good he does…” he smiled fondly. “Of
course with you that could change…”
“Is he the reason you’re so upset?” she asked softly brushing his cheek.
Clark felt the reddening expanding in his face. He couldn’t lie to his Ma.
“It’s not… How?” Martha couldn’t read the brain waves, right?
“You should have seen your eyes when you talk about him…” she winked. “You love
him and he doesn’t…” she sighed and shook her head. “I know it’s painful, dear,
but… love is a very bothersome thing; it can give us the greatest happiness or
the most excruciating pain. The good thing is that he cares about you; he saved
you” she smiled. “He is your friend.”
Clark lowered his head.
“I don’t know if he is even that anymore… He treated me like a freak” Martha’s
eyes widened in shock “he kicked me out” his Ma made to say something but he
stopped her. “The worst thing, Ma, is that he’s right; I…I… can’t be satisfied
only with his friendship and it… eats me, alters me, it makes me want to do…
nasty things… and he senses that… He is brilliant, Ma…but he’s been through a
lot… a Hell. And he does all these things to protect me… from myself” he rubbed
his temples. “I was ready to go to him…”
Martha raised her hand and touched his mouth.
“No, sweetheart, don’t do that; you say that he is brilliant and cares about
you and that’s the reason he keeps you at a distance. Show him your trust,
dear; he saved your life once, maybe he knows what’s wrong with you and he’s
already searching for a solution. Don’t press him: you said that you have the
impulse to…” she sighed sorrowful; Clark was such a good kid and wanting to
harm someone, especially someone he loved, was painful even to think “to hurt
him. Please, honey, stay away from him as much as it’s necessary; trust him and
respect his wishes” she smiled to him. “It’s hard, I know, but only this way
you’ll prove that your love is real and that you won’t harm him even if he’s
not in love with you…”
She stretched her short posture to kiss his cheek and he lowered to receive
that blessing.
“Promise me, dear, that you won’t try anything until he talks to you.”
Clark smiled.
“I promise, Ma” and returned the kiss.
His cell sang and Clark Kent hurried to answer to Perry White, paling with
every word he heard under the frown of Martha.
“No, not in Gotham, Mr. White… Can’t you send someone else?” he stuttered in
Kent’s way: of course he kept always an eye on Gotham for Bruce’s sake but he
didn’t trust himself being constantly so close to him. “O…okay, fine.” He
looked at his Ma’s widened eyes. “He sends me to Gotham to cover the crisis…”
“You’re in love with Bruce Wayne?”
***** Chapter 29 *****
The hooded shadow slithered between the timeworn walls of the mostly unused
warehouses at Gotham’s docks. The sea breeze was quite strong and cold at 4 am
but it was pleasant too, bringing the ocean's salt flavored smell.
He adjusted better his hood to cover his face, although he knew that he was
practically invisible to the upset or half drunk/high thugs who inhabited the
area despite police’s patrols.
He couldn’t sleep although he felt exhausted; he was rolling in his enormous
bed searching for oblivion that never came while the throbbing pain in his anus
and the burning bruises in his upper arms were bringing in his mind constantly
wave-like the happenings in the cave. So resigned, he opened his notebook and
hacked the police’s database in hopes of finding the report from the autopsy on
the fake Napier’s body. Of course he didn’t turn any light because Alfred even
though fast asleep could sense any disturbance in the peace of his bedroom –
maybe he had the room wired? And of course he found nothing: it was way too
early for the autopsy.
Then a flash ran his brain and he was sure that he knew what Joker’s next hit
would be, apart from targeting Bruce Wayne. Joker wanted to be the ruler of
Gotham so he’d want to erase the competition. And which was the better way to
show off doing exactly that than killing the remaining and rival crime lords?
And where and when better than at their ‘summit’ where they would decide the
future not only of the underworld but also of the entire city? It would be the
perfect blow both to exterminate his rivals and to enthrone himself as the new
king before the eyes of the underworld and the society…
He had slid from the bed and soundlessly like a shadow wore black jeans, a
blouse and a black jacket with hood; in spying excursions Batman’s outfit,
though discreet enough, wasn’t the best option.  Then he left the room and
slipped to the cave where he mounted the bike and entered his beloved, his
familiar world of the underground caves.
Upon resurfacing to the docks he lowered his vitals to basic functioning
because he was afraid that if Alfred had noticed his absence Ironman would be
already soaring the city, looking for him to grab and force him back to his
bed.
The docks’ habitués’ chats had various topics; some were talking about Toledo’s
murder, whispering that there was something in the city more ominous than the
mad clown. Some were awed by the Joker stating that they would happily work for
such a badass and others were cursing the clown, saying that he was unsettling
the status quo making the police’s already increased caution choking their
businesses; not to mention that his antics could eventually lead to an external
intervention – the second in two months – which would be the tombstone for
them.
And for the city’s independent existence, Bruce added in thought.
“That fuckin’ freak butchered Tom, Rhino an’ Dicky – they almos’ kick the
bucket…”
“Who sav’ them? ‘Cause that bozo doesn’t do favors!”
“Tom’s wife said that he didn’ see…”
“Horseshit! He just keeps his mouth shut, the maggot…”
“That freak is a menace…”
“He’s not from her’.”
“That fuckin’ brat brought ‘im; ‘is damn asshol’! Ever’thing was good when ol’
Falcon’ had ‘im leashed to ‘is bed! Why the big ones don’t giv’ ‘im to that
loony to end the matter!”
“Maybe they’ll do!”
Bruce narrowed his eyes interested; he knew that voice. The approaching 6’ and
200 pounds figure was the mediator between the three candidates. An independent
gangster that all this time had managed to remain afloat without having to
submit to anyone other’s control. He smoked a handmade cigar and always wore an
obsolete worker’s hat and sunglasses even the night time.
“Hiya, Matches; what’s up, mate?” another one from the company gave five to the
man.
“As ya know, Slug…” he laughed.
“Know anythin’ abou’ the big ones’ meetin’?” the first one inquired.
Matches chuckled.
“Loukie, ya’re with Gambol and ask me that?”
“Cut the bullshit, Match” a third intervened. “Ever’one knows that you’r the
guy that fixes these things.”
“Yep: Gotham’s UN…” Matches said snarky.
“C'm’ on, c'm’ on” Slung burst. “They’ll meet tomorrow as had planned it?”
Matches patted the shoulder of the low ranked crook and tipped the edge of his
cigar.
“Nah… They decided to call it off till bat-guy catches the clown” he sniggered.
“What a bunch of winkers! They’re scared shitless and pray the big bad bat
wipes the danger for them… Uh…” he exclaimed “poor Falcon’ would hav’ unleashed
every rabid dog of the continent to bring him that loony’s skin, only for
mentionin’ his boy… And those chickenshit look for a hol’ to hide their heads!”
Although the two of them belonged to the gangs of the big ones, they giggled.
Matches was a traditional asset in Gotham’s underworld so he could judge and
even mock everyone. And even the two henchmen knew that he was right.
“An’ when they’ll meet?”
Matches smirked wryly and shrugged.
“Only Bats knows…”
Bruce left the scene, having learnt what he wanted – his two hours long
wandering at the docks had paid off; at least, they gained some time there.
“The big meeting is called off. I’ll let you know when the next is fixed. B.”
He texted Jim’s cell that stayed always open.
He walked in complete silence as if he was floating to the nearest manhole; he
meant to return to the Manor before anyone discovered his escapee.
“Boss said to look for that ol’ rag.”
Bruce halted abruptly, looking at the two men feet away from him. The one was
the opposite of the other: one short and skinny the other tall and busty. The
accent of the one who spoke was Gotham’s. Interesting.
“I tell ya, Goof’; we’re not gonna fin’ anythin’. Just ruinin’ our shoes” the
second was a Gothamite, too.
Goofy giggled.
“I lik’ the name Boss gav’ me; Goof’… Hihi! I lov’ Goof’; he’s the best!”
“An’ ‘e calls me ‘Black Pete’ – he’s the cooles’!”
The other sniggered.
“He calls ya that, ‘cause yar bear belly not ‘cause yar cool…”
“Boss loves me!” Pete protested and Bruce felt a deep sympathy because both of
them were clearly mentally handicapped.
“Ya, sur’! As he loves the blocks the cops busted!”
The busty one shrugged.
“He said he’ll free ‘em…”
“Ya? When?” the other snapped.
Pete crossed his arms fuming insulted.
“When he catches the Wayn’ kid! Soon! ‘e’ll make it, ‘e’ll take tha boy; Boss
is awesome!”
Goofy scratched his almost bald scalp.
“Mayb’ boss loves ‘em. He brough’ them with ‘im…” Bruce’s eyes widened in
anticipation; if his heart weren’t in a low mode, it would have started kicking
expecting to hear where Joker had come from. “Lik’ that chick with the red
hair…”
Bruce frowned.
“She’s beautiful!” Pete exclaimed sighing. “But she forgot us…”
“Heard boss sayin’ to her that she has bigger things to do… Mov’ yar ass, now!”
He watched the odd duo moving to pass beside him without sensing his presence.
There is a girl with Joker whom he brought with him and he dismissed her
because she had ‘bigger things to do’; he didn't want to risk her being
revealed. He pressed his lips, ignoring the pain from the wound there.
“You made a rational assumption that proved wrong; no big deal: you just move
on to a new. OK?”
He wasn’t opinionated; it was his instinct that guided him. Rachel Dawes… Joker
has a female accomplice as Napier had one. She didn’t look very worried about
her ‘boss’ being a hostage and she recognized the victim as being her employer
while he wasn’t. And she had targeted Dent from the beginning: Tony would say
that this is what normal people do. Bruce didn’t want to accuse her before
having proofs yet she was… Odd? No, you’re odd and see everyone as that… Tony
would have added if he was enough frustrated with him.
He wouldn’t say anything to Tony but he’d keep an eye on her. And Harvey…
An idea was formed. He knew that probably he’ll find both Alfred and Tony
waiting him at the cave infuriated but he couldn’t return yet. Besides the
spring cold was soothing his brain, numbing the pain from his words and Clark’s
hurt eyes which were changing only to be replaced by the fake Napier’s dying
ones.
He blended into the shadows and then when he reached the Midtown, with the
drunken pedestrians who shuffled to their homes or to the next club. He slipped
in the back alley of the condo where Harvey Dent’s apartment was. He climbed
soundlessly to the fortieth storey from the fire escape and the gutters.
Harvey was sleeping, so Bruce broke into the bedroom opening the balcony door
as Selina had taught him. He left the door a bit ajar and let the dark swallow
him, waiting for Harvey to wake from the breeze.
Obviously, the DA was a light sleeper or his sleep wasn’t calm affected by the
Opera House’s events, so it took only a couple of minutes for him to jolt from
the bed.
Bruce saw his eyes narrowing and immediately he opened the nightstand’s drawer
and took a small weapon.
“You don’t need that” Bruce growled with Batman’s cold voice.
Harvey let the gun and didn’t motion to open the light. He stood from the bed
and wore his robe. He approached the open balcony door, trying to discern the
strange being and failing. He scratched his hair and laughed.
“Are you a ghost then?” he didn’t hear a reply so he continued. “I wanted to
meet you to thank you for my father; you saved his life and I’m grateful for
that as for everything else you do for the people of Gotham. And for tonight…”
“A man died” he retorted.
Harvey lowered his head.
“You’re right, but without you more would have died and the city would have
been in chaos.”
“Falcone’s lieutenants called off their meeting for unknown date.”
“Jim knows?”
“Of course.”
Harvey nodded.
“The ‘tough guys’ are afraid of Joker, too, eh?”
“Exactly.”
Harvey snorted.
“They’re not so tough when they don’t have to do with innocent people…”
“You’ll be notified for the new date.”
The DA made a sound in agreement.
 “Joker’s cards have no traces to lead us to his identity.”
“We’ll find him” he reassured the DA and he nodded.
“I have my trust in you.”
“That is mutual.”
Harvey smiled trying to adjust in the dark in hopes that he'd make out a body
outline in the shadows. Yet he was feeling like talking to the air.
“You must be careful; you know about S.H.I.E.L.D?’’ he made to say more.
“I know.”
The young DA tilted his head. Of course Batman knew everything.
“Their director is here and tries to trap you. He approached Jim and me. I
think he is dangerous.”
He wished he could see the man’s expressions but the shadows were one with him
and that made him shudder although Harvey trusted the man with his life .
“Can you keep an eye on Bruce Wayne? Joker is obsessed with the man and I
believe that he is ready to make an attempt against him. We’ve appointed a
detail to him, but still…” he sighed.
“Wayne has the best security in this city. You should be careful too.”
Harvey frowned.
“For my father? You mean to keep our kinship secret?”
Bruce felt the urge to tell him to reveal it, because he considered Mr. Petrou
a very special person that didn’t deserve to be hidden as something shameful.
However Batman didn’t interfere with such matters.
“No. Just don’t trust anyone you don’t know” he wanted to warn him about Rachel
yet he still couldn’t be sure about her role and he didn’t want to make
suggestions for personal issues.
“Who do you mean?”
But through the darkness he felt a wave of air and he knew that he was alone.
He opened the lamp on the nightstand and nobody was in the bedroom. He slumped
on the mattress and raffled his hair with both hands.
Don’t trust anyone you don’t know… As if he was a secondary character to a
thriller. He laughed; he was Gotham’s DA, what did he expect?
 
When Bruce returned to the cave to his relief he didn’t find anyone there. They
didn’t notice his absence. He slipped to the master bedroom, stripped and wore
his pajamas but before diving under the blankets, tidied up his ‘spying’
clothes, because if Alfred found them scattered in the room, would immediately
figure out.
He nestled his body under the warmness of the blankets and brought his knees to
his chest. It was 6 am, he could sleep two hours before getting ready for the
funeral yet his exhausted body refused to surrender. His mind was rolling
around the same things his short escapee had temporarily silenced; he felt an
aggressive headache flooding his cranium and he wished Ra’s had taught him a
way to shut his brain completely because meditation in this case failed.
He shivered under the heavy covers, realizing how cold his body was. He had
minimized his body’s function to remain undetected and it needed some time to
be normalized but the spring Gotham cold had taken advantage to invade each
pore of his body.
The door opened with a low sound and Bruce hastily closed his eyelids. It was
Alfred who came to check him; Bruce recognized the man’s steps, his breath,
even his soothing smell. He must persuade him that he was fast asleep.
Alfred sat on the mattress and caressed his young master’s cheek.
“You are cold, Master Bruce” his always cool voice was a bit tired but mostly
affectionate. “You reduced your vitals so to not be detected and the cold made
the recuperation time longer…”
Bruce opened his eyes shyly; there was no need to try to fool the good man who
smiled warmly sensing Bruce’s eyelids opening.
“You knew?” he asked in the dark.
Alfred switched on the dimmer light of the lamp.
“From the moment you left your room.” He nodded.
“But I was stealthy…” he protested. “I used the shadow technique that fools
everyone…”
The old butler smiled amused although his eyes were solemn. He brushed the
young man’s still cold locks.
“Indeed, you became a shadow – and believe me I’m honored that you used your
entire range of impressive skills to evade a fool old man.” Bruce lowered his
head ashamed but Alfred cupped his jaw and met his eyes smiling. “Still you’re
a shadow I know from when it was a baby… shadow, a shadow that I spent entire
nights waiting its imperceptible movement because it would signalize that I
could see again my boy; a shadow that my entire life is tuned to its noiseless
existence…”
“I thought that you’d wake Tony up and send him to fetch me back…” he
whispered.
Alfred shook his head in the negative.
“Master Anthony needs his rest, too. On the other hand, I know that your
captors didn’t allow you much sleep and that is difficult to change; also I
know that you crave for freedom, Master Bruce; I know that your entire life you
were confined in a freezing, tiny cell and even from there you managed to
wander around. I worry about you and I believe that you need to gain normal
sleep habits yet I won’t deprive you from what you love, what you need…” he
snorted. “I’m not your prison guard, sir…”
Bruce hesitated but in the end caressed Alfred’s upper arm.
“You’re my guardian angel…” he looked at the old man’s moved eyes and
overcoming the force that withheld him he rest his lips on the wrinkled cheek.
Alfred smirked.
“I wish it was true, sir. You couldn’t sleep, right? And you found refuge to
Gotham’s streets to soothe your body and mind…” Bruce wanted to avert his eyes
because Alfred was reading them but he didn’t want to sadden him more. “You
were in pain, both physical and emotional…” Bruce sensed that the kind man was
aching with him.
Alfred realized that his master’s temperature was returning too slowly and took
a deep breath.
“Well, Master Bruce, you’ll take a nice, hot bath to help your body warm up and
I’ll bring you a glass of warm milk to relax you into sleeping. Up! Up!”
Alfred waited till Bruce entered the bathroom and heard the water of the
shower. He sighed somewhat relieved and went to the kitchen.
Upon returning he found his young master lying to his bed, muffled in the
blankets. He smiled lopsided and placed the small silver tray on the
nightstand; Master Bruce wanted to make him feel better showing him that he was
following his advice.
He sat on the mattress, took the glass and offered it to the young man who
gulped it greedily and returned it empty. Alfred felt his eyes watering; it was
as if time went back… He pulled out his handkerchief from the pocket of his
robe and gave it to Bruce to sweep the milk spots from his mouth.
The young man smiled awkward and cleaned his lips. Alfred knew that although
the youth didn’t want to be treated as a child at the same time was enjoying it
whenever someone dared to do it… berating himself of course because Bruce
believed that he didn’t deserve any kind of affection.
Bruce was searching Alfred’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, Alfred… I know I’m not treating you right…”
“You’re treating me perfectly, sir; the only one you don’t treat right is
yourself…” Bruce averted his gaze. “You deserve to be happy, Master Bruce.”
“I’m happy” Bruce’s voice was steady and resolute. “I’m very lucky I have you
and Tony and Leslie and Selina and Lucius…” he chuckled. “So many people loving
and caring for me…”
Alfred took his master’s hand in his.
“I know your heart is in constant suffering…”
Bruce shook his head.
“A man was killed yesterday because of me; today a family’s funeral is taking
place, including an eight year old boy who died in horrible pain because he
resembled me… All these people would be living their lives wasn’t for me…” he
looked at the window.
“It isn’t your fault that a crazy criminal kills people; he doesn’t do that for
you, he does it just to satisfy his sick mind. You almost died to save lives,
sir. Please, sir, look at me.”
Bruce brought his eyes back on Alfred’s face.
“Do give a chance to yourself; you suffered so much, you deserve someone to
love you like Mister…”
Bruce jolted, his eyes widened as if he was struck and Alfred stopped abruptly.
“I don’t deserve his love” he said with his voice hoarse. “You must understand,
Alfred, that I’m bad for him; I…I’m” he inhaled tired “harmful for him and he
must realize that; he…he must realize that I can give only pain…”
“Pardon me, sir, but if you let your golden heart shine to Mister Kent without
trying desperately to hurt him, he’ll be not only the strongest man in the
planet, but also the happiest!” he laughed. “Just give it a try…”
“No!” Bruce exclaimed and made to storm from the bed but Alfred held his hand
tighter.
And then Alfred found Bruce’s head nestled to his chest exhausted and his
wrinkled hands brushed the brunette locks. Like the day he had entered Dolcetto
unnoticed and found the little boy with his clothes stained with blood mopping
the floor and humming the lullaby his mother was singing to him,..
He rubbed the rigid back of the young man and kissed his head.
“He must leave, Alfred; I can’t cause more pain… I can’t harm him… He must
forget me…” Bruce’s strangely steady voice whispered to Alfred’s chest.
Alfred closed his eyes with despair because he was unable to stop Bruce’s
suffering that not even tears would come to soften.
“Please, sir; what these people did to you doesn’t lessen you as a human being;
on the contrary, my dear boy, you’re a living miracle: you survived, you stayed
alive despite the tortures, the abuse, the starvation… Believe me, you’re
making all of us happy that we have you back; you can’t harm anyone, my dear
boy…”
But Bruce grasped a fistful of Alfred’s robe and squeezed it burying his head
more into Alfred’s chest.
“Why it doesn’t stop?”
The old man kissed the young man’s hair once again and rubbed his back
soothingly, trying to hide the young man from the pain by tightening his
embrace. Bruce raised his dry eyes to Alfred’s.
“You’ll sedate me, Alfred?”
Alfred read the exhaustion in the young man’s body and soul and he felt dread;
the fact he was holding that lost angel in his embrace was a miracle; a miracle
that little Bruce was breathing, had managed to grow up, managed to come back
to them. But he realized that his abusers had massacred his heart and soul and
he was constantly bleeding; believing that his own blood was the blood of
others…
“Only if you want me to, sir.”
He didn’t reply, just resumed his place in Alfred’s chest until Alfred sensed
his strenuous breaths becoming even and his eyes closed. He laid him flat on
the mattress, as gently as he could, and muffled him meticulously with the
blankets.
He cast him a last loving stare and closed the lamp before leaving silently the
room.
 
Jonathan Crane didn’t understand how it happened; one moment he was in his
awful cell in Arkham Asylum wasting his genius in reciting by heart chemical
compounds and the other some guys dressed like ninjas – loonier than the
inmates – took him out of his jail and untroubled walked out of the
institution. They blindfolded him and shoved him in a track. Of course he
didn’t even think to resist; he wasn’t crazy after all.
They stopped and moved him to a building. They left him in a room after they
pulled off the blindfold. They didn’t lock, sure that he couldn’t and wouldn’t
dare to attempt an escape.
So he just waited for hours. He wasn’t afraid: first, because if they wanted to
kill him, they would have done it inside the cell or in the course; and second
because he was arrogant enough to be certain that whoever took all this trouble
to free him had done it for he needed his genius. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have
done it, would he? He had just to wait; he was used to that after two months
and some days in that loony bin, baring with those Ignorants who called
themselves ‘doctors’. He felt disgust only thinking of them.
Also he would have appreciated it if those people brought him something to eat
because it was dawn as he could see from the small window that didn’t permit
any view to the scenery and several hours had passed since his last meal.
He rolled his eyes; they obviously believed that making him wait would upset
him and make him more vulnerable to their… whatever. Idiots! He was a brilliant
professor of psychiatry and a master in manipulating human psychology and that
petty tricks were pathetic!
Steps approaching his ‘room’ – finally, the fools decided to reveal themselves.
He didn’t left the small sofa he sat on and just brushed the fabric, raising
his eyebrows to welcome his hosts as the door opened.
Only a man and a woman. He tilted his head and looked at them lopsided,
smirking. The man was a giant, a troll of 7’ and 300 pounds with muscles ready
to explode if bulked a bit more; his head was covered completely with a black
silken scarf which let only his brown, mean eyes to be seen.
At his side stood a young woman, quite beautiful and younger than him; she was
tall, but shorter than the troll, lean but obviously strong with well shaped
muscles clearly distinguished under the black velvet blouse and tight jeans she
wore. Her eyes were black as her long hair and she was staring at him as if she
was looking at a worm; more arrogant than him.
He snorted.
“Are you my… ‘saviors’?” his eyebrow reached his hair. “Don’t tell me you
expect my… gratitude?”
The woman smirked, her eyes more contemptuous.
“I don’t think that ‘gratitude’ is your… forte, doctor” her voice was cold and
Crane was sure that if a snake talked, this would have been its voice; also,
her Arabian accent was clear.
“True. Because I know that every human act comes from interest, expecting
something for exchange.”
The woman approached him with confident, proud steps. She laughed.
“A very cynical approach to human behavior” she lifted an eyebrow and focused
her steely eyes on him. “Nonetheless accurate for people like your former
employer, Carmine Falcone.”
Crane felt insulted; nobody was so special to have Dr. Crane as his employee
particularly that dork Falcone.
“He wasn’t…” he raised annoyed his voice and his small nose .
But the woman made a sharp gesture that forced Crane to close his mouth.
“Don’t. You. Ever. Interrupt. Me.” She hissed as a real snake and instantly
smiled. “As I was saying, your… dogma” she snorted “about gratitude is correct
for people like your former employer, Carmine Falcone, but not for us.”
Crane smiled.
“Then you don’t expect from me to feel grateful and repay the debt.”
The woman laughed sarcastic.
“Repay? No, Dr. Crane; I don’t expect anything so…noble from someone like you.
You’ll do what we want from you not from…gratitude, but because you want to
stay alive and that depends on your zeal and effectiveness.”
Crane nodded, some sweat drops showing in his forehead.
“What do you want from me, Miss?” he grinded his teeth.
The woman walked to the window and focused her stare there as if she could see
outside.
“Do you know about slaves, Dr. Crane?” she asked without turning to him.
Crane twisted his lips in jeer; not sexual eccentricities! She did all these
just for a slave’s sake? He fought the urge to shake his head with disgust.
That ox standing like a statue seemed to him quite the obedient slave.
“Yes, I have some… knowledge on the phenomenon.”
She yanked her head and looked absent minded to the ceiling and Crane rolled
his eyes to stop abruptly on the giant’s menacing growl and stare.
“I’m not sure you understand so I’ll explain it to you.” She left the window
and turned to him. “My father had acquired a slave; this slave was a child, a
lost child and my father healed him, fed him, shaped him, made him a gorgeous
man and gave him his love.”
A pedophile… Crane thought. Nice…
“But this slave was too…” she searched for the right term “unbowed; he betrayed
my father and left. My father died” she didn’t want to tell more to Crane. “And
I am his heiress, so along with his other fortune I inherited I want also his
slave…”
Interesting, Crane smirked amused: along with the fortune she inherited the
obsession… Like father like daughter…
“You want me to approach the slave and brainwash him in returning to his
mistress?” he wanted to laugh but it was his life at stake.
The woman laughed.
“Oh, Dr. Crane! He is way too smart to fall to your… brainwashing abilities!”
she shook her head in disbelief; how that idiot believed that he could
brainwash someone who managed to escape her father.
Yet Crane felt insulted; his arrogance moaning.
“Then what do you want from me?”
“Soon my slave will be back in my hands; but as I have said he is too untamed
and too clever so he certainly will try to escape again. You, Dr. Crane, will
use your knowledge and talent to tame him forever.”
Crane nodded and stood.
“A lobotomy, then?” he whispered excited; he always wanted to perform that
surgery…
“No, Dr. Crane;” she loomed over him. “I don’t want him a vegetable: he is too
precious to be wasted; I don’t want his adamant personality, his intelligence
and strategic genius lost… But also I don’t want all these wasted by him
constantly manifesting his defiance and trying to provoke me into punishing
him. Because I know that the worse punishment for him and the greatest
satisfaction for me will be having him kneeled at my feet for his entire life…
”
Crane smiled lopsided.
“Then?”
The woman smiled.
“You’re a genius, Dr. Crane; an incredible talent in chemistry and the
manipulation of human behavior. You were jailed in Arkham Asylum because you
were experimenting to your patients. What I want from you is a challenge, Dr.
Crane.”
The psychiatrist nodded; his light blue eyes shining greedily.
“I want you to use your … unique drugs to shatter my naughty slave’s already
wounded mind, so to reshape it the way I want into being completely obedient
and loyal to me for the rest of his life, changing his beliefs for his loved
ones.”
Her eyes focused on the fascinated from the challenge doctor.
“Do you think you can do that, Doctor? With a considerable reward waiting for
you, of course, and a death penalty if you destroy my property.”
Crane wasn’t afraid of the second option; failure wasn’t a term fit to Dr.
Crane.
“I’ll need details, equipment and provisions…”
“You’ll have whatever you need…”
She walked towards the door, her bodyguard opening for her.
“We are collaborators: you know my name so it’d be good for our cooperation to
know your name too.”
She tilted her face pinning Crane with only one shining eye.
“Don’t hoax yourself, Dr. Crane, into believing that this is a…” she laughed
“collaboration”. Still you could learn my name. Talia Al Ghul.”
 
Clark arrived in Gotham with the first train after Perry’s last night’s call.
His guts were clenched because he didn’t want to be in the same city with Bruce
at a daily basis: the temptation to eavesdrop him would be huge and he would
hear his name constantly; it was Bruce’s city after all and especially those
days everything circled around him. Lois was in a mission at Russia so he
wouldn’t even have her pleasant distraction.
He went to the nice and cost-efficient hotel he always accommodated when in
Gotham and left his few things there before beginning covering the events.
His first stop was the Phelps’ funeral. The disaster began with their murder.
As he was watching people paying their respects to the dead family, he
remembered the night he rushed to Gotham to warn Bruce for Joker’s threat
without knowing that he already learnt with the worst possible way and that
someone was lurking to kill him. He narrowed his eyes and willed himself to not
think the care and love with which Bruce saved his life and took care of him.
Only to outcast him after…
“You’re in love with Bruce Wayne?” his awesome Ma had no difficulty reading
him. “But how?”
He had explained to her that he and Lois were in Gotham to cover Falcone’s
party when he saw the young man and he had heard the rumors about him being the
declared dead son of the Waynes and he approached him to help him and Superman
took action… He told her that Bruce figured out his secret, because he is,
contrary to people’s belief, very smart; however he didn’t tell her that Bruce
was Batman, though Ms. Kent would figure out soon.
She brought her palm to her mouth.
“And you’re…” it was difficult for a mother to utter that “you feel attracted
to him in a sexual way?’’
Hearing it from your Ma was too awkward yet he nodded.
“My God, baby! The poor thing… I mean it’s reasonable to react that way… I mean
the poor thing was his entire life…” a sob made her voice quiver “raped and
tortured by men… and you’re a man…”
He tilted his head.
“Obviously…” he snorted.
“You can’t expect him to feel comfortable with a man lin ust for him…” she
closed her eyes. “I know he is beautiful, Clark; I know that maybe your…longing
dims your logic…” Clark was aware that his Ma registered the rolling of his
eyes. “But it’s too soon for him, dear; try to be in his shoes… You said that
he cares for you yet you ask too much from him…”
He had shaken his head irritated.
“I don’t ask anything from him, Ma!”
“Maybe not with words” her voice was filled with sympathy. “I read somewhere
that rape victims are too sensible to body signs and poor Bruce… I’m saying
that your body has its own language and he understands what you crave him. And
knowing that you’re Superman must fill him with terror. ”
Now his Ma was defending Bruce! And she was right… Nonetheless he felt
irritated. He kissed hurriedly his Ma and she caressed his raven hair.
“I must leave, Ma.”
“How he saved your life?”
But he had already taken off waving to his intrigued Ma.
Clark’s eyes widened; that was Bruce coming down the aisle of the small chapel
to lay some flowers to the three caskets. Obviously, he had parked his fancy
car somewhere that won’t betray his presence here. Clark was relieved he was
the only reporter there because Gotham’s brutes would have tortured his Star.
He wasn’t sure if he’d ever publish it, but he shot a picture of the beautiful
young man staring on the verge of tears at the small corpse of Brian Phelps
inside the white coffin. Clark knew that everything was paid by Bruce and
seeing his obviously exhausted Star brushing with his eyes the dead boy made
his eyes teary.
Then he saw the man going to Ms. Phelps’ mother at the first raw who was
holding the hand of a thirteen years old boy sitting beside her dressed in
black. He couldn’t hear anything though; his stupid hearing chose that moment
to leave him… Damn! At least, he could read their lips… No, no… Bruce turned
his back on him blocking the view… On purpose? Then he was aware of his
presence even though he was discreet. Damn you, Bruce!
Bruce held the hand of the old woman whose eyes were red and puffy from days of
crying. She raised her olive oil colored eyes and regarded tiredly and almost
indifferently the young man – actually, Bruce expected to be cursed or kicked
out of there so that reaction was good.
“I’m awfully sorry for your loss, Ms. Turner…If I can do anything…”
He saw the woman’s eyes leaving their secluded world of sorrow and stare at
him.
“Bruce Wayne…” her voice was hoarse and cracked from sobs and Bruce readied
himself to be attacked; maybe he wanted to be attacked: at least, it’d be some
console for the poor woman to pour out her wrath to the man who brought that to
them.
He bit his wounded lip that Alfred had perfectly concealed with makeup and
nodded.
She grasped his hand with both of her wrinkled shaking hands.
“Thank you for everything, son…”
“I did nothing, Ms. Turner” he felt worse hearing the poor woman instead of
cursing him, thanking him for just paying the expenses of her family’s funeral.
But he knew that in her desert world that gesture was valuable because showed
to her that someone else was thinking and caring for her loved ones…
“It wasn’t your fault, dear…” she whispered and began crying.
Bruce saw the boy cuddling to her, his red questioning eyes goggling at her
pleading.
“Please, granny…”
The boy was very much alike Brian with black locks and blue eyes and Bruce knew
that this boy was the son Ms. Phelps had from her first marriage something that
the hoards of reporters who sought to rummage and exploit the life of Phelps
didn’t discover.
“He’s Richard…” Ms. Turner told Bruce, sweeping her eyes in order to be brave
for the child. “I had taken him in the shops to buy him his birthday present
that night…”
Bruce kneeled before the boy, feeling Clark watching his every move. His
exhausted eyes locked with the boy’s intense gaze.
“I’m sorry, Richard” he told the boy who had also lost his father five years
ago. “I want you to know that I’ll be here for everything you need, you and
your grandmother.”
“Go away! They died because of you!” the child burst out aggressively and
hugged his granny who looked apologetically to Bruce.
“Dick…” she rubbed the kid’s back. “That’s rude…”
“It’s alright…” Bruce whispered and left the two mourners alone, casting a last
almost frightened glance to the three caskets.
He watched the proceedings from afar; thankfully, nobody was so cruel as to
alert the press to his presence at the funeral which with the exception of
Clark didn’t interest anyone else from the press; of course Clark with the gold
heart would have come… Discreet to not disturb the mourners in this moment of
utter pain.
Gotham’s sky was even gloomier than usual and some raindrops fell at times,
like tears.
He stood in the public cemetery under one of the cypress that accompanied those
lying there and stared at the people saying goodbye to the family. Ms. Turner
had stopped crying by the time the caskets were lowered to the ground but Dick
called his brother and rushed to the ascending tiny casket; Bruce’s heart
jolted with the suffering boy. His granny held him in her hug and he struggled
to escape; finally erupting to sobs and cuddling in Ms. Turner’s chest, when
the first dirt covered his baby brother’s casket; the poor woman bit her lips
to hold her own tears.
Bruce closed his eyes, trying to breathe because iron nails were tearing his
twisted guts; he wished he was dead in their place so that Dick wouldn’t have
to suffer…
He opened his eyes, hearing steps approaching him.
He was surprised to see Rachel Dawes dressed in a black suit and really
heartbroken. She was gazing at him without the usual odd way that fought to
hide the sarcasm.
“You’re a mess…” she snapped without the fake sweetness she spoke when other
people were around.
Bruce was aware of that; he was extremely pale after the blood loss and the
restless last night. But he had refused to wear sunglasses to hide his
weathered eyes.
“I know…” he replied.
“That must be a Hell of the flu…” she smirked and raised a sarcastic eyebrow.
“You have no idea!” his eyes found again the kid who was crying over his
brother’s grave, his grandmother caressing his hair.
As Alfred had done for him last night, when he unforgivably had acted like a
brat breaking the good man’s heart; there were people with real problems like
that poor kid and he was selfishly whimpering … He had asked from Alfred to
forgive him when he brought him his breakfast and a perfectly pressed black
flannel suit but the good man had answered that nothing wrong happened last
night…
“You feel responsible, huh?” Rachel followed Bruce’s eyes.
“You wouldn’t?” he replied without turning his stare.
Rachel smiled lopsided with her enigmatic way.
“Everyone is not like you, Bruce…” she answered and welcomed back Bruce’s
intrigued eyes with a smile. “Your heart is constantly bleeding; one of these
days you’ll die from blood loss…” her eyes shone jeeringly.
“If you don’t care, then why are you here?”
She shrugged.
“It was tragic and unfair… whenever that happens… and horrible, especially the
boy…” her voice cracked despite its natural hardness.
Bruce frowned inside; he remembered the two thugs chatting at the docks for the
beautiful girl who assisted Joker. Could Rachel have been a participant to the
crime yet she was against Joker’s cruelty to the child? Or she was just trying
to fool him, like she was doing to Harvey…
“And for me this was the only place in Gotham that I should be this morning…
You think that this boy blames God for losing his family?” she wasn’t a fool;
she had understood that the boy was a member of the family who just wasn’t
there at the time. She focused her eyes on him seriously. “Did you blame God
when your parents were killed? Every time Falcone whipped and raped you?” her
voice was cruel.
“And why not blame those doing this to you instead of blaming something vague?”
“Or yourself, huh?” she smirked and winked but then sobered and inhaled. “It’s
hard when something like this happens at a time you start believing in the
goodness of the world…”
Bruce saw something in her eyes that hadn’t seen there again.
“You lost your family?” he inquired almost whispering.
She snorted and waved her hand dismissingly.
“Not exactly… But it was very important to me; it was meaning for me.”
Yes, Rachel was a cynic but hearing her speaking like this, not the words, -
because words can be fake -, but her voice, her eyes, her body language, was
enlightening to what the young Rachel might have been… Ra’s had taught him
thoroughly to read other people. So there was no surprise that she worked for
Napier – the Joker -, maybe he approached her when she was vulnerable and
shaped her to that. Speaking of him…
“I would expect you to be settling Jack Napier’s affairs. I’m sorry he died.”
She lifted her eyebrows sarcastic.
“I bet you are!’’ she laughed discreetly. “There aren’t many things to settle:
everything about the corpse’s transfer and the funeral are ready and that goes
for his fortune too.”
“In LA?”
Rachel twisted her upper lip.
“You’re not a fan, eh? He was from Boston; he’d have liked to be buried there…”
“He had any relatives?”
She blinked intrigued and smiled snarky.
“Too much interest from someone who hated the guy…” she spat.
“I didn’t hate him; I’m truly sorry for his death.”
“And you should be: Joker killed him because he was going to mock you. If you
had stopped the performance with a legal act, he’d be still alive!”
Bruce felt a wave of dizziness and Rachel sniggered seeing his face going
paler. She held his upper arm.
“I’m kidding; even if you had stopped the performance, Jackie would have still
played with you; he was obsessed in a way and he was aware of Joker’s danger.
Oh! And I’m sure you’re sorry; Bruce: the little angel of the Narrows…” her
eyes shone and she turned to leave.
Bruce made a mental note of that expression.
“You’ll leave Gotham?”
She stopped without turning.
“I don’t see the reason… Have a great day and Bruce…” she wanted to say
something but changed her mind; she shrugged. “Never mind…”
 
***** Chapter 30 *****
When the lift from the underground parking brought him inside the Wayne Tower,
the first thing Bruce did was visiting the legal department. There he met Mr.
Collins and asked him to create a fund at Gotham General Bank with the initial
amount of 200,000 dollars in the name of Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson. Also, he made
sure that another amount of money would be monthly credited to Ms. Turner
account.
He knew that money couldn’t compensate for what the boy had lost neither heal
the wounds. But he wanted Ms. Turner to be able to raise the orphaned child the
best possible way without having to look for a job at her seventies, since her
pension wasn’t enough.
Mr. Collins informed him that a restraining order against Nickolas Joseph Fury
was issued after Lucius Fox’s requirement and therefore the said man wouldn’t
bother him or any other person related with him. DA’s office acted rapidly
despite the turbulence after Joker’s actions.
Bruce thanked Collins and tightening his clutch on his briefcase walked to the
lift thinking that Fury must have pestered many people to force Lucius set the
legal machine in motion.
He embarked the lift for Lucius’ laboratory where he knew that he’d find Tony
too carrying a carton tray with two coffees and some muffins he took from the
cafeteria. He had research to do but he had all the data he needed in his
laptop along with the software; he had decided that his priority must be Joker
so the intriguing files he had stolen from the League of Shadows could wait a
bit.
As the voice in the lift informed him that he reached his destination, he took
a deep inhale and settled the nonchalant expression that hid his true emotional
state; he was used to this after all...
He knocked on the door and Lucius called him in.
Tony was indeed there, wearing a white laboratory robe – Bruce halted himself
from smiling because as much as Tony was a scientist seeing him with the robe
was absurd. He was hunched above a fancy machine and he was watching something
on the microscope.
Lucius was dripping a liquid substance in a small surface but immediately
turned to him, smiling.
“Good morning, Mr. Wayne; I’m glad you’re almost recovered from your… flu.”
“Thank you, Lucius; I couldn’t stay more in bed…”
Lucius laughed and lifted an eyebrow.
“Oh! I’m sure… I imagine though Alfred’s reaction…”
Bruce shook his head and smiled mischievous.
“Yeah! He’ll scold ME for Bruce being naughty” Tony straightened his posture
and looked at his friend and then at Lucius. “Honestly, Lucius, you know anyone
who can restrain this man?”
Lucius shook his head in negation laughing.
“Exactly!” Tony nodded and raised his eyebrows for emphasis. “You brought us
goodies, eh? Good boy!”
Bruce placed the carton tray in a table away from the working bench and the two
scientists approached.
“Mr. Collins told me about the restraining order against Fury” Bruce said to
Lucius who was sipping his coffee. “He harassed people here, didn’t he?”
Lucius met Bruce’s questioning eyes.
“I’m afraid he did: me one of them… and Mr. Petrou. He obviously thought that
the man would fear for his parole and would help him against you” he smiled.
“But he didn’t; he came immediately to me.”
Bruce nodded, pursing his lips in thought. Tony gulping a muffin looked at him
interested.
“He is outrageous this Fury; I give my money to them and they chase my best
friend…” he shook his head in disbelief. “I’m looking forward to kick his ass
and take my money and go: we’ll see if he would sell that arrogant attitude
then!”
“Still I’d prefer it if Fury was persuaded without having to use the hard way…”
Tony sipped his coffee and sighed satisfied.
“Exactly as I take it… The cafeteria is quite qualitative I see; are the
waitresses of the same quality as the coffee or things have changed from when I
remember?”
Bruce snorted and Lucius laughed.
“Anyway…” Tony said “Fury isn’t easily persuaded; he is opinionated as…”
“Me” Bruce completed Tony’s phrase and Tony rolled his eyes. “Anyway how are
things going?” he cast a lopsided glance to the bench with the working
machines.
“We’re making progress” Lucius replied “but it is rather complicated.”
Tony nodded.
“I haven’t seen anything more complex and it is intertwined to the normal
aspects of your cells which makes it trickier to distinguish.”
Bruce’s eyes darkened and he pressed his lips.
“But we’ll make it, Mr. Wayne” Lucius hurried to reassure Bruce.
Tony patted his friend’s back.
“Lucius has already isolated two compounds of the substance and we’re close to
another one. Now we’re two working so won’t take long. And Pepper is here
taking care of the rest of our affairs so nothing else distracts us.”
“You told her?”
Tony scratched his hair.
“It bothers you?” he grimaced.
“Not at all; Pepper is trustworthy” Tony smiled relieved.
Lucius and Tony resumed their research and Bruce sat on the table beginning his
own. He entered the police’s database and read the autopsy’s report for the
supposed Jack Napier: nothing new there about the stab wound but the coroner
found that the poor man was already dying from a slow acting and extremely
painful poison, injected to him a few hours before the time of death so he
would have died even without the blade.
He used his face pattern recognition software to compare the dead man’s face
from the pictures of the corpse with Joker’s… and of course they didn’t match…
Then he isolated Jack Napier’s face from his last interview with Vicky Vale and
compared it first with the dead man’s and also didn’t match! Bruce smirked;
opinionated… he snorted. Then he compared Jack Napier’s face from the interview
with Joker’s and… His eyes glistened: they matched! He knew it!
He was ready to call Tony and show him the results but he looked at the DNA
results at the coroner’s report. He frowned: the dead man’s DNA was the same
with Jack Napier’s as it was archived in the rehab clinic he was admitted for
his alcoholism. That was… impossible! The poor man was just a doppelganger…
He repeated the face pattern comparisons using different photos and the results
were the same: Joker’s face was matched with Jack Napier’s face from the
interview but not with the dead man’s which didn’t match with the interview
face. So his doppelganger theory was right. But the dead man’s DNA was the same
with Jack Napier’s from the rehab clinic which wasn’t the same with Joker’s DNA
he had in his possession.
Of course DNA identification was much more accurate than the face pattern
recognition comparison yet the latter was a clue… The conclusion thus far:
Joker was Vicky Vale’s Jack Napier but he wasn’t the rehab clinic’s Napier who
was the dead man. So either he was wrong and the face pattern recognition
program was crap, which meant that Joker wasn’t Jack Napier. Or Joker had
changed the DNA archives in the rehab clinic to match the dead man’s.
If Tony had a photo of the Napier before he went to the rehab clinic or if he
could find a video of the man to study his demeanor… He should investigate
more… Joker was Napier and at the same time he wasn’t… He rubbed his temple and
searched the information about the clinic…
And then all of a sudden Lucius’ laboratory dissolved rapidly and reshaped into
an alley; a very familiar alley and he felt terrified. His right hand was
immobile and throbbed. He realized in dread that everything was a beautiful
dream and now he woke up and he was eleven years old.
He looked around him and when he was sure that nobody was watching him,
shuffled with the huge garbage sack to the bin; he left it there. Selina waited
for him behind the bin which was so big that hid them both. She was grinning.
She was happy and this was so strange for Bruce, because he had forgotten how
it was for someone to be happy.
He slumped beside her and she kissed him on the cheek and his dead eyes
searched her warm ones.
“I brought you something…” she said smartly unfazed by his moroseness.
Bruce took the sandwich Selina brought to him every night and thanked her but
his friend was still smiling wickedly.
“What?” he asked.
She revealed the hand she had behind her back and Bruce saw in her palm a tiny
animal cuddled like a ball. His hand stretched mechanically and touched its
dirty fur, raising his eyes at Selina, a hesitant smile curving his unused
lips.
“A kitten!” he whispered awed and Selina nodded thrilled.
“I found him in a garbage bin…”
Bruce’s eyes filled with sorrow and Selina’s smile faded. He had seen the
ruined eye of the kitten.
“The poor thing is ill and his eye is already useless and his other eye is
affected too. I took him to the vet and he told me to give him drugs.”
“He knows that you’re an orphan?” Bruce asked petting the white fur of the
kitten which turned his one half - seeing eye regarding him shyly.
“Nah! I got his medicines and I began to give him.”
Bruce understood.
“You stole them?!” he exclaimed disappointed.
Selina shrugged.
“A life values more than some dollars!” she retaliated defiantly. “And I’ll
steal more to save him!” she added stubbornly. “Because the vet said that he
needs to have the ruined eye off or he’ll die… and I don’t want him to die…”
Selina’s eyes began shedding tears and she lowered her head, petting the small
animal along with him. “Because he’s like you… and he deserves to live and he
is yours!”
The idea of having a little kitten warmed his heart; he had a puppy when he was
a toddler but they were forced to give it to Thommy Elliot because his mom
manifested signs of an allergy. But now he wasn’t in the Manor! He almost
forgot…
“I can’t keep him, Selina; if they found him, they’ll kill him…and I don’t have
food even for me…” he lowered his head. “He is so beautiful and frightened and
hurt…” and he had blood on his tiny front leg and was looking at him knowingly.
Selina smiled.
“I know, Bruce; he’ll be yours but I’ll take care of him for you.”
Bruce looked at her and smiled widely after what seemed like an eternity. He
took cautiously the frail thing in his palm and kissed its small head.
“Can I call him Hero?” he inquired his friend and she grinned.
“Uh! It’s perfect!”
“And I’ll bring you the money for the operation…”
Selina shook her head negatively.
“No! No! No! They’ll beat you! No, Bruce!”
“You said that he’s mine… And they always hit me… I must go now before they
come to fetch me…” Selina took the kitten. “You’ll bring him again?”
Selina nodded.
“You didn’t eat…” she whispered to his running towards the cabaret figure.
He managed to gather the money, stealing from the thugs who cornered him in the
dark to touch him. He was ashamed but they did these things to him anyway so if
Hero was to live he swallowed what was left of his dignity…
And it was worthy… The baby kitten survived the surgery and Selina was taking
good care of him. She was bringing him every night with her; Bruce saw him with
stitches all over the place where his dead eye used to be and then night by
night he was watching the kitten becoming more active, more affectionate,
demanding his caress even though he saw him only nights. He was white with a
big horizontal V smudge of black in his back and some spots of light brown in
his small legs while his tail was too short for a kitten.
Bruce felt happy despite the hardships, despite the whippings and the… other
uses of him, because he knew that at the end he would see his Hero who was
becoming a fat, happy and playful kitten and life was somehow shinier… Because
in his heart hope burned a little fire that had the messed color of Hero’s half
blind solid eye. And he had the kitten on his lap and they ate together his
sandwich.
“He’s the most beautiful kitten in the world!” he said tickling Hero’s busty
belly and receiving the animal’s playful kicks giggling.
“You say that because he’s yours!” Selina taunted him yet she was petting Hero
too. “And he eats tons; he’s greedy…”
“No, he’s not!” he replied insulted. “When he was ill, he didn’t have any
appetite and now he needs more food to grow up…”
“OK, Mr. Doctor…” she rolled her eyes mock angry but she took the kitten and
helped Bruce hold him in his chest.
Bruce had only one working hand and now that Hero was heavier and bouncier he
couldn’t cuddle him although he wanted so much. Yet Selina understood and was
helping him.
“Ya maggot!” a howling voice came from Dolcetto and the two kids looked at each
other panicked. “Ya lazy son ova bitch!”
He jolted to his feet; he was so happy that forgot and he was late and now
Chill was looking for him. He was going to be beaten but his heart was
squirming for Selina and Hero.
Selina hurried to take the scared from Bruce’s panic animal and he ran to the
door just when it burst open and Chill covered the entire entrance. He stopped
abruptly at his heels and gulped seeing the giant enraged; his eyes widened as
the Vulture smirked with malice.
“Ya remembered to grace us with ya presence? Ya bastar’! Ya lazy worm!”
”I’m sorry, sir” he stuttered though he knew that his sorry didn’t worth
anything.
Chill sniggered.
“Ya’ll be sorry, sure, when I’ll skin ya with my belt!”
He closed his eyes but immediately reopened them when he heard a familiar meow,
a too familiar meow and some tiny paws running.
“What’s that?” the giant squinted at the white fur ball.
“No, sir…” he yelled “let’s go in…”
He squatted to take the small animal which was rubbing to his feet yet Chill
was faster; he grabbed the poor thing from the back of the head and hoisted it
in the air smirking.
“A one eyed cat!” Hero convulsed in his enormous hand in vain and Bruce tried
to reach him to take the animal, his heart twitching like a dying fish. “It’s
yars, huh?!”
He shook his head desperately in negation.
“Please, sir; let him go!” he was already crying “he’s not mine… he did nothing
wrong… Please!”
But the giant’s smile became wider and crueler, while Hero was struggling to
escape and Bruce was jumping to reach him.
“Is that why ya’r late? Yar playing?” he hissed. “Who permit ya to have a pet?
Ya’r the pet, ya jerk! Do ya think yar still at yar palace? Ya son ova bitch!”
“No, please, give him to me! You’re hurting him…”
Chill laughed looking at the kitten.
“No pets, bastar’; an’ he’s ugly…”
His eyes bulged as the giant’s hand jolted throwing the screaming animal to the
opposite wall. His heart stopped hearing a horrific crashing sound and a
desperate howl and his legs ran there, sinking beside the white and black small
figure which was dim from the tears in his eyes.
“No!” he whispered and his hand brushed Hero’s bloodied head; his small eye was
open but without any movement inside; his friend wasn’t seeing him.
He wasn’t hearing anything apart from Hero’s last yell and his heart’s beating.
He wanted so much to keep him in his chest, to warm him up, to coax him back.
He tried to take the small body with one hand but he only managed to lay him on
his lap; he caressed him, he was already cold so much unlike a few minutes ago
and he didn’t purr. He was dead; dead because he loved him. Hero had done
nothing wrong apart from loving him…
A violent hand clenched his cripple arm and pulled him. He tried to resist; he
wanted to stay with Hero forever there, in an alley as that night wanted to
stay with his parents. But the force was merciless and yanked him and Hero’s
body fell to the ground and he must have pained… Bruce stretched his hand to
reach him.
“No!” he screamed. “Let me go!” he yelled and the powerful hand slapped him
sending his body to the same wall that killed Hero.
He felt pain and then dizzy yet the thought of Hero made him crawl to him,
stretching his hand to pet him… He was able to pet his cold fur once before
Chill grabbed his cripple hand and hoisted him again, dragging him away.
“No!” he cried but he was silenced by a storm of sobs and violent jerks coming
from inside and tears and a knot full of thorns in his throat.
His eyes covered by tears stayed glued on Hero’s small body lying cold at the
alley while just moments ago he was full of life, playing, purring, loving… And
then cruel metal shut Hero away from him and darkness and nothingness filled
him…
Selina was there again after a few days, when he was ‘allowed’ to take the
garbage out, her eyes red and puffy like his. She brushed his cheek as he
collapsed on his knees beside her.
“I buried him in a beautiful place…” she mumbled “it’s a beautiful park with
thousands roses that are always blossomed.  He liked to sniff the air and there
is full of perfumes” she laughed “not like the Narrows. I’m sure he is happy
there…”
Bruce nodded without saying anything and Selina pressed her lips trying to find
his eyes.
“The orphanage’s Sunday school teacher says that those who die go to a better
place… and are happy… and without pain… And I think that Hero will have both
his eyes there and see everything and do everything the other cats do…I… I’m
sure that he is happy there and he has forgotten all the pain… and the
suffering…” she smiled “and he sees us and sometimes is here with us but we
don’t see him…”
Bruce still didn’t speak. If such a place existed, he wanted to go with Hero,
to play with him again; there his hand, which was aching unbearably from the
day Hero died, wouldn’t be useless and he would be able to hold his little
friend on his chest…
Selina offered him the sandwich but he didn’t move to take it; he wasn’t hungry
those days and he didn’t want to eat the sandwich alone…
He felt Selina embracing him, her hands tightening around him soothingly.
“It was my fault, Bruce” she tried to sound cool but her voice was hoarse. “He
felt your fear and ran to you and … I didn’t…”
He raised his hand mechanically and patted her. He couldn’t cry anymore; Chill
beat him every time he saw him cry and then used him till he passed out and now
he had no more tears and only the prickly knot remained in his throat and in
his heart. He didn’t have the courage to look at her.
“No, Selina…” his voice was steady but unfamiliar “I killed him because I loved
him.”
Hero’s one eye was replaced by the maimed face of Brian and then by Clark’s sad
blue eyes…
Someone was shaking him and a familiar voice colored with concern struggled to
pass the wall.
“Bruce! Bruce! You’re crying…”
He took in his surroundings, trying to conceal his surprise. He wasn’t jailed
in Dolcetto, he was in Lucius’ laboratory, safe and free. He had a flashback
and Tony saw him and his friend squatting in front of him was almost panicked.
He smiled reassuringly to his friend; he could also discern Lucius behind
Tony’s back having stood from the bench, his worry evident in his face: how
much time he was trapped in the flashback?
“I’m not, Tony; the screen irritated my eyes…”
Tony didn’t believe it but let it pass.
“Then shut the damn thing!” he exclaimed and closed the lid.
Bruce knew that Tony hadn’t calm down yet, so he laughed carelessly.
“Tony, white really isn’t your color… And that robe…”
The older man stood and brought his hands on his waist, he rolled his eyes.
“I told you, Lucius! Ugh! The last time I wore such a robe was in elementary
school and even then it didn’t flatter me… Little guy, I trust that you won’t
tell: I do have a reputation…” he lifted an eyebrow.
He crouched down again and held Bruce’s upper arms. His eyes locked with
Bruce’s.
“You’ll wash your face, you’ll go to your office and take a nap…” he cast a
lopsided glance to the laptop on the table “not even think about it, buddy:
this stays here. I’ll come to take you and Pepper to a sunny place to eat
lunch.”
Bruce wiped his eyes.
“Tony, there’s no sunny place in Gotham!”
Tony tilted his head, grimacing.
“Even better. Ironman will take both of you at Malibu, at that restaurant you
loved so much when you’re there…”
Bruce felt nostalgia for those days and regarding Tony’s eyes realized that his
friend felt the same. Tony winked.
“We have a deal, then?’’
Bruce nodded and let Tony guide him to the door, kicking him out politely.
He called the lift and when the doors opened he saw Pepper Potts reading from
her tablet. She left the lift and only then she raised her eyes which widened
from joy seeing Bruce. He smiled and shook her hand while she rushed and kissed
him in both cheeks.
She blushed.
“I’m sorry, Bruce…”
“Why? I liked it!”
She smiled yet her eyes had a shadow.
“How are you? Things are really hard in Gotham… and for you. You shouldn’t have
gone to that funeral alone…”
“How do you know?”
“Clark Kent’s article… He’s the Planet’s correspondent in Gotham.”
Bruce pressed his lips and nodded.
“I had worse, Pepper; I’ll manage. And you? Tony told me that he put a lot on
your shoulders.”
She half shrugged.
“I’m used to it… and for really outrageous reasons. You need rest, Bruce” she
said concernedly.
He nodded, smirking.
“I look so terrible?”
“No, not at all” she protested. “You’re gorgeous as ever but I see the
difference from Malibu…” Pepper pressed her lips and patted his upper arm.
“I’m fine, Pepper, really; and if you need any help, please come to me, since
Tony and Lucius are too busy. Hm… Speaking of which… Tony just kicked me out of
the laboratory so… brace yourself…”
She laughed.
“I’m used to Mr. Stark’s antics” she winked. “And it is something that needs
his signature. Do get some rest…”
He smiled.
“You’re part of the plot, huh? I’ll see you later, Pepper.”
Even before stepping out of the lift he heard Ms. Philips arguing with someone.
“You can’t see Mr. Wayne; he’s not here yet and you don’t have an appointment.”
“If you inform him that Mr. Fury wants him, I’m sure he’ll see me without
appointment.”
Bruce approached silently hidden behind the built-in screen that was showing
Gotham’s most famous places. He saw Ms. Philips’ eyes becoming sterner than
usual, hearing the man’s name – that stare was unsettling, Bruce mused.
“Then, I’ll ask you to leave this storey and the premises before I call
security and the Police. There’s a restraining order saying that you’re not
allowed to approach Mr. Wayne; right now you’re violating that order” her voice
was strict.
Bruce saw the hunched over the desk Fury straightening his posture. He could
hear the smirk in his voice.
“I don’t understand such hostility, my dear lady.”
Bruce walked towards Ms. Philips’ desk and the woman rose. Fury turned and
grinned widely.
“Good morning” he greeted them.
“Good morning, Mr. Wayne” Cynthia greeted.
“Good morning, Mr. Wayne” Fury said. “It’s a pleasure meeting you again.”
Bruce knew how to read people yet Fury was confused himself between irony and
true pleasure. He took in Fury’s perusing stare that was appraising Bruce’s
condition.
“Is there a problem, Ms. Philips?”
“None, Mr. Wayne. Mr. Fury was just leaving.”
Fury smiled to the tough lady and tilted his head to Bruce.
“I just wanted to speak with you.”
“Mr. Wayne, there’s a restraining order for this man. You don’t have to speak
to him. Do you want me to call the police?”
Fury nodded but his grin was jeering.
“Really now… do you believe that a restraining order can stop the
investigation? The restraining order is for me yet S.H.I.E.L.D. has many agents
and has connections with the higher levels of the federal government. I’m not
“pestering” you, Mr. Wayne; I conduct a research for a serious matter and if I
reach my connections and inform them about the way authorities in Gotham tried
to halt the investigation, not only you will face a federal investigation but
also your friends. Believe me, Mr. Wayne; I don’t want that but if you force me
to, I’ll use every means I have at my disposal.”
Fury isn’t easily persuaded… Bruce knew that if he wanted to be free from
Fury’s inquires, he needed more than a restraining order; he had to persuade
him. He stared at Fury’s intense one eye.
“Though I still don’t understand, please come in.”
Fury’s grin became a full smile.
“Mr. Wayne, you don’t have to” Ms. Philips told him, her eyes behind the
glasses angry. “Let me call the Police.”
Bruce smiled to the loyal lady and made a calming gesture. He put his fingers
to the fingertip recognition system, aware of Fury’s intense gaze. The door
opened and he let the agent enter before him.
 
“It’s the first time I see him having a flashback during daytime…” Tony said
over his microscope, dripping some drops from a flask to the cell in the
special plate.
Lucius turned his stare at the younger man.
“He must have had more when alone and of course Mr. Wayne didn’t say anything.”
Tony sighed behind his medical mask.
“Sometimes I feel completely useless, seeing him suffering so much even after
he won his freedom. Fuck!”
“You’re not, Mr. Stark; you make things much better for him. Your presence is
crucial for him, don’t have any doubt.”
Tony shook his head and pressed two buttons at the gadget on which the
microscope was built in.
“I don’t understand why things must be so hard for him. Aren’t enough all these
years in Hell? Look at this mess… Superman is getting more dangerous and I’m
not sure if the substance in Bruce’s body would be enough to protect him from
an attack.”
Lucius pressed some buttons on his own machine and looked interested at Tony.
“Do you believe that Superman could attack Mr. Wayne?”
“You don’t?” Tony’s intense gaze focused on Lucius and he saw that the always
optimist man was afraid too. “And he didn’t want to carry the kryptonite bullet
with him! And this shit is way too complicated! And we’re running late!”
Lucius closed his eyes.
“Mr. Stark, you know that I never give people false hopes. So when I say that
we’re going well, I believe that you won’t take me for a liar. We’ve already
made progress and with you along will soon have the result we want. As for Mr.
Wayne, if he believes that he can handle Superman without the kryptonite, I
think that we should trust him; after all, his training is more than
extraordinary. Also, we can’t be sure that Superman will attack Mr. Wayne; he
is a very polite and goodhearted man, after all…”
Tony snorted and continued his work when the melody of ‘The Eye of the Tiger’
filled the silent apart from the sound of the working machines room. The young
man looked with disgust his jacket in the pocket of which he had his phone.
“You’re kidding me…”
“What is it, Mr. Stark?”
“S.H.I.E.L.D. calling; some emergency…”
“You won’t go?”
Tony closed his eyes. He knew that he should stay there close to Bruce to help
find the antidote faster and protect him because he was really afraid for him.
However if it was a matter of life or death?
“Damn! Not now!”
“Mr. Stark, you can go; I’ll continue and when you return, we resume our work”
he nodded and Tony could discern a smile behind the mask.
Tony took off the robe and the mask and for the first time activated grudgingly
his armor storming out of the laboratory’s secret window.
 
“May I offer you something?” Bruce asked after he closed the door.
Fury made a dismissing motion, grinning and sat at the armchair Bruce showed
him. He knitted his fingers and watched the young man taking his place behind
the desk.
“Well, Mr. Fury? What’s all this about?”
Fury pursed his lips.
“You don’t know… Really, Mr. Wayne? I think we should speak without pretenses.”
“What pretenses?”
Fury loosened his fingers and leaned towards Bruce.
“A restraining order?’’
“You harassed people, Mr. Fury; good people who don’t deserve to be treated
like this. Why?”
He nodded.
“I was just searching for the truth.”
“Blackmailing and threatening people? Mr. Fox told me that you approached Mr.
Petrou. I’d appreciate it if you stop upsetting people.”
“I assure you, Mr. Wayne, I don’t intend on annoying your people” he grinned
“after all, it is pointless. You know how to choose associates, Mr. Wayne; I’ll
give that to you among many other things…”
Bruce frowned.
“They are very loyal, even if their loyalty sends them to jail along with their
leader…”
Bruce’s eyes widened. He had decided that if he used his reasoning ability to
argue with Fury, he’ll only manage to solidify even more Fury’s belief. So he
decided to be the victim most people expected from him; the victim who tries to
be brave yet bends when things become tough.
“Jail? Leader? I’m afraid I don’t follow you, Mr. Fury… Are you accusing my
people of…” he narrowed his eyes. “…of what exactly?”
Fury rolled his eye; the boy wanted to play the innocent.
“My job isn’t to accuse people like you unless” he raised an eyebrow “they
insist on acting illegally.”
Bruce widened his eyes, lowering his head in an effort to listen better.
“Like me? Acting illegally?” he shook his head. “I’m sure that if Wayne
Enterprises have done something that violated any law, Mr. Collins and the
legal department would pay the fine… Or is it more serious?”
Fury stood from his armchair and loomed over the young man.
“What’s your opinion? Is it more serious or not?”
Bruce rubbed his forehead.
“What do you accuse us for?”
Fury laughed.
“I think that our last night meeting on the rooftop of the Opera House makes
things clear enough, Mr. Wayne!”
Bruce shook his head, his eyes widened in shocked.
“The Opera House? That’s impossible… I wasn’t… I wasn’t there. I mean Jack
Napier had invited me to his premier but I didn’t want to go and I was down
with the flu.”
The agent shook his head chuckling.
“The flu! Com’ on, Mr. Wayne! I’m not an idiot!” he looked at the shaken young
man lopsided. “Was it a gun or a stab wound that incapacitated you?”
Bruce’s eyes bulged.
“Gun? Stab? What are you talking about?”
Fury loomed closer almost aggressively and the young man cringed to the back of
his chair; the veteran could almost hear his frightened heartbeat and that
puzzled him but at the same time he was aware he was dealing with an artist of
deception so he wouldn't swallow the act.
“I didn’t say that Bruce Wayne was in the Opera House…”
Bruce grimaced, his mouth half opened in amazement.
“Then why…” he shook his head bewildered “Then why are you saying that you met
me there? Please…” he rubbed his temple and Fury would have felt for the youth
if he wasn’t sure that he was acting. “Are you trying to…to mess with my
head…?” there should have been anger in that question yet Fury could detect
only fear. “And if you believe that I was shot or stabbed, how could I be able
to be in the Opera House?”
Fury didn’t loosen his stance and Bruce couldn’t withdraw more.
“You have the training to withstand physical pain and operate normally and
higher than normally.”
“T…training?’’
Fury looked the younger man in the eyes, trying to find the wit he knew that
lied underneath the pretend confusion.
“You have a magnificent body, Mr. Wayne…”
Now Fury saw Bruce Wayne’s body getting instantly tense, his pale face becoming
paler and his eyes panicked. The agent smiled awkward: Wayne couldn’t believe
that he was making innuendos…
“The expensive perfectly tailored suits can’t hide that and Falcone was showing
off your body with form fitting suits, jeans and shirts.”
The youth seemed to get a grip although a little tremor was still there; he
nodded.
“He wanted it like that” his voice was shy and his eyes lowered.
Fury although knew that he should keep a tight hold of his tough opponent
couldn’t help but giving him some space, distancing himself. He saw Bruce
breathing easier; he was dealing with an exceptional actor! But he already knew
that; the boy wouldn’t have survived otherwise.
“Who trained you, Mr. Wayne?” he asked his voice going gentler without his
will.
Bruce’s hand motioned to rub his forehead but he decisively forced it back on
the chair’s arm, trying to make his stare steady.
“I don’t know” he shook his head “Falcone just passed me to him and he trained
me.”
“He was the same man that fixed your cripple arm…” he continued, nodding.
Bruce Wayne’s eyes locked on his face with real pain while his left hand
touched unconsciously his right; Fury realized that all these brought memories
to him that caused pain and he felt uneasy for doing this to the youth but he
knew that Bruce Wayne was a tough nut.
“Your arm was shot twice the night your parents were killed; Falcone ordered
his doctor to pull out the bullets and stop the bleeding but not fix the bones
which broke from the shots. You testified that in his trial and many witnesses
confirmed that as the coroner’s report.” Bruce nodded. “He left your hand
untreated resulting in the bones grow abnormally causing pain and immobility to
your arm; it was like a dead weight in your body. However now your arm –
thankfully! – is normal looking and functioning.”
“You think that I lied?” Bruce could have thrown out of his office and the
Wayne Tower the man however he wanted to learn how much Fury knew and to show
him that he was nothing more than the aftermath of a tragedy.
Fury shook his head.
“No, Mr. Wayne, of course not; besides the coroner’s report showed the signs of
the monstrosity that they made to your arm. On the other hand” he sat again “in
the X-rays the coroner did there’s no sign of a surgery that might have fixed
your arm. And even if a surgery was performed your arm wouldn’t have been so
perfectly restored… Unless it was fixed by a chiropractor: a man who was a
master of the human body and perfectly skilled to break the malformed bone and
fix it so artfully that the neurons weren’t affected.”
“It pained so much…” Bruce murmured.
“I know…’’ he tilted his head to the young man whose eyes were shadowed. “He
was Ra’s Al Ghul, Mr. Wayne; Falcone told me.”
“Ra’s… what?”
Fury laughed.
“I’m sure you know perfectly well that name, Mr. Wayne. He was the leader of
the League of Shadows” Bruce’s eyes widened on the name.
“The terrorists that planned to annihilate Gotham? Everyone was saying that
they were arrested the same night Falcone was.”
Fury felt thrilled by his opponent; he was changing perfectly between playing
the ignorant and the informed, when the information was public.
“The League of Shadows’ apprehension as Falcone’s was the result of a strategic
genius who waited years perfectly planning to neutralize his enemies
simultaneously. A man who was an insider both to Falcone and Ra’s Al Ghul
himself. The Batman.”
“You believe that Batman is a former thug of Falcone and a… partner (?) of Ra’s
Al…- how you said it?”
Now Fury erupted in laughter, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Oh! Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne! You’re really something..!” he stopped laughing
abruptly and leaned to the young man who cringed again to his chair. “We both
know who Batman is!”
Bruce shook shyly his head in the negative, his lips trembling.
“I… I… don’t…” he didn’t want to utter even the word ‘Batman’ before Fury did.
Fury knitted his fingers in front of his face.
“I consider the League of Shadows the most dangerous terrorist group in the
world currently and through the decades. I fight the League decades; gathering
information” he smirked “though is very minuscule and repelling their planned
operations whenever I find out. My dream is to smash those lunatics. So
watching for League’s activity I was informed that Ra’s Al Ghul – the leader
himself – had taken interest in a child… must be 12 years ago…” he trapped
Wayne’s face in his peruse searching for the tiniest reaction that wouldn’t be
confusion. “He took the child and healed him, fed him, trained him more than
any other of his students… molested him… and rumor has it that he made more
horrible things to him… Everything with just one goal: creating the perfect,
the deadliest weapon.” He smiled seeing terror in Bruce’s child-like eyes. “A
weapon that he would use to eradicate his enemies; a weapon perfect in every
aspect: beauty, skill, power, intelligence…, innocence…’’
He waited a reaction from the young man but Wayne was looking at him intrigued
waiting the continuation as if he was hearing a fairytale.
“I met Falcone a few days before he died. He told me that he gave you to Ra’s
Al Ghul and that he was infatuated with you, very protective; as a matter of
fact, he told me that it was Ra’s’ initiative to heal your hand and train you’’
Bruce furrowed shocked. “Falcone said that Ra’s tempted him to give you to him
for training promising extreme sexual pleasure, which he got. Falcone believed
that Ra’s wanted you only for his own pleasure yet he agreed because who could
say no to the most powerful terrorist in the world and the cornerstone of his
rule in Gotham.” He knitted his eyebrows. “However I don’t believe that Ra’s’
purpose was only to molest you; and the odd thing is that Falcone told me that
the diamond that caused his fall was yours… your mother’s.”
Bruce shook his head trying to digest what he had heard; he furrowed his brows
and tilted his head.
“You mean the Black Butterfly?” Fury nodded, smiling lopsided. “The gem that
Falcone stole from the Smithsonian’s Museum?”
Fury closed his eyes and stopped smiling.
“No, the one that was lost for centuries; the lost twin of the one in the
Museum: the one a friend of yours sold to him as a bait to make him stole the
Museum’s gem that began the chain of events that led to his disaster. However,
even odder than this is that Falcone said that the night he used you as a
hostage to flee, it wasn’t Batman who saved you…” Bruce’s eyes widened. “You
saved yourself, Mr. Wayne and according to Falcone quite efficiently…”
Bruce didn’t try to escape Fury’s intense gaze on the contrary he looked him
even more intense.
“And you believe Falcone?” he said pointing each word almost hurt. “He claimed
that I provoked him to…” he inhaled “to use me; he said that my father must
have used to do such things to me…and you believe him?”
Fury lolled his head.
“Of course not, Mr. Wayne! In the court he tried to save his skin and lied
stupidly but when I talked to him he was already in jail for life without any
hope of parole.”
“Exactly…” Bruce said rubbing his forehead. “He had nothing to lose and he
could take his revenge spreading lies for me.”
Fury didn’t comment on that.
“All in all, Mr. Wayne, it’s obvious that you’re the child Ra’s took under his
wing and trained” Bruce closed his eyes exasperated. “He made you a unique
warrior, the deadliest weapon against his enemies. He wanted to make you his
tool for exacting his…justice. Yet you upon realizing his purposes turned
against him; you created with Lucius Fox Batman and weaved a perfect plan to
eradicate simultaneously Falcone and Ra’s Al Ghul” he leaned towards the young
man. “Ra’s Al Ghul was arrested heavily injured that night by – what a
coincidence! – your friend, Ironman. He was taken to a hospital but he
mysteriously escaped. My information says that he is dead. He tried to kill you
and you managed to defeat your mentor, right?!” his voice was awed.
Yet Bruce was dumbfounded, his eyes lowered. He laughed but it was a bitter
laughter.
“And you believe that I managed all these things?!”
“You’re the Batman, Mr. Wayne. And I admire you not only because you managed to
stay alive and sane but also because you had the moral strength to recognize
how wrong were Ra’s’ plans and fight him; defeating him with your skills and
greater intelligence.”
Bruce was laughing now yet Fury could see tears in his eyes that weren’t from
the laughter. The young man raised his eyes to stare at Fury.
“And you harassed all these good people because you believed all these things
for me? That I am…”
“The Batman. The only thing I can’t figure out is how you managed to slip
Falcone and Ra’s to coordinate your plan and save people.”
Bruce tilted his head and wiped his tears with his palm.
“Maybe because I didn’t…” his voice was hoarse. “I was just lucky, Mr. Fury, to
be still alive when Batman or whoever else decided to send Falcone to jail…”
“And the Manor’s wiring? The transmitting of Falcone’s confession?”
“Everyone knows that it was Alfred’s and Lucius’ plan… My only ‘skill’, Mr.
Fury, isn’t exactly a skill: is these people’s love.”
Fury had had enough. He jolted from his armchair and Bruce cringed, trying to
withdraw as much as he could to his chair’s back; his eyes watched fearful the
man’s obvious irritation.
“Mr. Wayne, cut the act! I know you are a terrific actor: you needed that to
fool your captors. But it’s enough!”
Bruce rose from his chair shaking.
“W…what?”
“Tomorrow you’ll give a press conference admitting that you’re the Batman and
that from now on you’ll collaborate with S.H.I.E.L.D” Bruce’s eyes widened in
terror.
His Batman side roared in wrath wanting to answer the man accordingly to his
nerve and Bruce restrained himself as he was used to all these years.
“I…I can’t…” he shook his head desperately, his eyes confused and pleading. “I
can’t admit something that it’s not true!” he tried to retreat more but the
chair hit his legs.
Fury was tired of the act, so he put his hands on the desk and leaned towards
the panicked youth.
“Enough with this shit, Mr. Wayne! It is either that or I’ll start a federal
investigation against you and your associates that will send you in jail or
depending on the judge in Arkham Asylum!”
Fury watched flabbergasted the young Wayne losing every color it was left on
his face, sweat drops appearing in his forehead and his breath becoming uneven.
He could hear his frantic heartbeat. However Wayne clutched the desk with his
trembling hands to support himself in an effort to hide his state and pose as
cool.
“You want to lock me up?!” his voice was a whisper. “Again?! Why?”
Fury shook his head, negating. As much as he believed that this was an act he
began worrying that the young man would collapse.
“I don’t want you locked up, Mr. Wayne! Quite the opposite! You’re a man of
unbelievable skill, a great man and it’d be a grave loss if you end up in
prison or in a mental institution. But taking the law in your hands and beating
people – as much as you helped this city – is illegal; and I can’t let a lethal
weapon roam the city uncontrolled, suffering from PTSD: is dangerous for
citizens, criminals and you.”
Bruce snorted inside but kept quivering and clenching desperately his desk.
“I…I’m not, Mr. Fury. You… you can’t honestly believe that…” his voice came out
difficult due to his fast inhaling.
Fury was sure that the young man was already hyperventilating and hurried to
sooth him a bit.
“OK, Mr. Wayne” he said calmly. “Last offer; scratch the press conference: you
won’t disclose your identity but from now on you’ll work for S.H.I.E.L.D. Like
your friend Tony Stark.”
Bruce distanced one hand from the desk and rubbed his forehead. He nodded and
tried to catch his breath while Fury was watching confused and worried.
“You want money…” he gulped “I…I can give you money… Wayne Enterprises aren’t
in the best shape yet… I can give you… money… Just don’t lock me up again…”
“I don’t want your money! I’m not a common blackmailer!”
A common? No, not a common blackmailer at all…Bruce snorted.
“I want Batman: you will be an incredible leader for the Avengers; a crucial
asset to the battle against injustice.”
Now Bruce took his other hand from the desk and held his head with both; his
respiration was faster and the room began twirling.
“I’m not…Batman, Mr. Fury… Please… Don’t lock me up… I’ll give you money…”
Fury rolled his eye; he was tired of this conversation.
“Mr. Wayne, stop embarrassing yourself; you can’t fool me, damn it!”
Bruce’s eyes widened in terror and he tried to step away from the enraged man
but in his haste he hit the frame with the photo of his parents holding him
when he was a baby. He made an effort to catch it but it fell to the floor with
a shattering sound.
Fury lowered his head regretting his outburst; the look of sorrow in Bruce’s
face was heartbreaking even for the tough veteran. He saw the youth rushing to
take the frame from the floor, his empty hands shaking.
“No, Mr. Wayne, leave it; you’ll…”
Bruce stood with the frame in his hands which were covered with streams of hot
blood, a couple of large shards sticking from his flesh. Fury was shocked to
see the young man completely unfazed, looking at the photo.
“Spit on their faces!”
His blood stained the photo and Bruce placed it on the desk breathing fast and
retreated to the wall his palms seeking support there smudging the surface.
“Embarrassing… myself…” he lowered his head, his words drowned in his short
breaths. “I…’m…sorry, sir” he whispered ashamed and Fury frowned. “I…I try
to…be…” he made an effort to catch his breath “…normal…” yet a rush of gasps
loosened his legs and he collapsed on his knees, stray sweaty locks falling to
his face. “It’s…” he brought his left hand to his tie to loosen it but the
blood loss and a new wave of short breaths defeated him and his bleeding hand
dropped to his knees, soaking the black cloth “hard…”
Fury was ready to rush to Wayne in order to help him fight off the panic attack
when a deafening explosion made him take cover behind the desk his eye watching
with agony the youth covering his ears with his bloodstained palms, his eyes
shut in despair. As the whole wall window shattered in a rain of thousands tiny
shards, Bruce’s aspiration resembled an asthma fit and Fury forgetting his own
claims wished the poor man passed out: five men with Disney masks swept in the
office pointing their rifles; their waists were tied with the cables they used
to cross the void between the opposite skyscraper and the Wayne Tower.
But the worst came after they scattered in the room.
“Nooooo more crying, babe! Daaaaaddy’s here!”
***** Chapter 31 *****
Joker brushed the dust from his purple jacket and untied the cable from his
waist. He cast a glance to the completely ruined glass wall.
“You never know what you’ll find at the abandoned warehouses” he shook his head
mock impressed. “That oooodd bazooka smashed it like butter…” he scratched his
head “Baaaaad metaphor… Hmmm… It was bulletproof?” he tilted his head staring
at the kneeled Bruce who didn’t even raise his eyes.
He had uncovered his ears and opened his eyes but behind his fallen locks was
just staring the stains of blood he had done on the carpet. Inside he was
frowning; Joker’s entrance was unexpected… but not necessarily bad… He had the
urge to jolt and start beating him for what he did to innocent people before
taking him to MCU this time himself . But for now he was to become the director
to Jack Napier’s act, the punchline of Joker’s joke this time was that the
clown wouldn’t know that he was a pawn. He smirked inside.
“I guess it was…” Joker answered his own question. “Do youuuuu think that I’ll
find ‘Made in LexiLu” on the ba-zooka? Hahahaha! The baaaaaldy will grow hair
when he finds oooout IIIIII stole it; hohohohehe!”
Joker’s goons seeing the bent form of Fury pointed their guns at him and the
agent rose slowly with his hands in the air keeping the corner of his eye on
Bruce who was still breathing fast.
Joker turned his narrowed eyes to the man. He sighed, raising his hands in the
air frustrated.
“It’s impossible to find youuuu without a man around, huh?” he snapped to the
youth who now had brought his knees to the chest, hugging his legs. “Aaaaaand
what’s thaaaaaat with the bald? First LexiLu and now this fella! Tsk, tsk,
tsk…” he shook his head exasperated and lolled his head. “Doooo I have to shave
my head to have your attention?!” he screamed and Bruce covered again his ears
though his hands shook uncontrollably from the blood loss and the pain. “Nah…
I’ll be like a scarred boiled egg! BUHABUHABUHAHAHAHA!”
Bruce tightened his hold on his ears and buried his head in his knees, his
aspiration making rattling sounds.
Joker stopped abruptly laughing and his face became deadly serious seeing
Bruce’s reaction. Fury’s eye widened watching the dangerous man storming to the
cowered young man yet the goons loaded their guns as a warning and he remained
at his place waiting the right moment to act or… Maybe Joker’s attack was what
he was looking for, the perfect reason to force Wayne abandon his pretense – if
it was a pretense – and fight Joker to save himself and catch the lunatic. Last
night he risked being shot in order to bust the same criminal…
Joker fisted Bruce’s sweaty hair and raised gently the youth’s head to take a
tight hold of his jaw. Bruce’s eyes were tearful and frightened meeting the
clown’s jubilant ones.
“Beautiful eyes!” he yelled enthusiastically like a child receiving presents.
“Gooooorgeous eyes! Unique eyes with so much color! Ooooooh! Uuuuuuuseless
photographers! They doooon’t do justice!” his eyes were pinned on Bruce’s
petrified ones but he was hearing his gasps. “Uuuuuuuu, sweetie! What is it?
The little gem is so happy to see me aaaaaaand sweats out to being screwed by
daddy?”
Bruce hearing the words Falcone used to call him with closed his eyes and tried
to hide his head but Joker tightened his hold on his jaw and shook him
violently.
“OPEN YOUR EYES!” he howled at Bruce’s face who pressed more the eyelids to
protect his eyes; but Joker staring, his mouth half open, felt tenderly Bruce’s
eyelids and eyelashes with his gloved fingers. “Open youuuur eyes, babe” he
said calmly “if daddy hadn’t liked your eyes, he’d have ripped them out by
now…”
Bruce shuddered not for himself but thinking that Joker had taunted like this
his innocent victims. He opened shyly his eyes, painfully aware of how
difficult he was breathing.
“Thaaaat’s better, honey! Youuuuuu’re like a kicked puppy… Who kicked MY
puppy?!” he screamed and immediately sweetened his voice. “It was this bad, bad
pirate guy with the bulb for head?” he caressed Bruce’s cheek with the fingers
of the hand that held the jaw.
Fury narrowed his eye; he saw Bruce Wayne’s wet eyes looking at him resigned
and when Joker shook him to return his gaze to him he shook his head negating,
trying unsuccessfully to control his breath.
“Sooooooo! The baldy liiiiiiiiiiives! No, pancake, no; I like your breath like
this, don’t change it: it’s like you have already an oooooorgasm only at my
view! HEHEHEHEHEHAHAHA! Aaaaand that sweaty looook is soooooo sexy! Yamy! Stand
up, little gem! You like being called that, huh?”
He grabbed Bruce’s neck thwarting more his frantic breaths and led him to stand
at his feet, supported by the wall. Fury watched apprehensively, his eye
focused on Wayne’s palms that sought refuge pressing the wall as if hoping that
bricks will hide him but managing only to break the shards that were stabbed in
his flesh. Fury didn’t see any grimace of pain and doubted if the youth was
aware that the glass had dipped more. Maybe Wayne was readying himself to hit
Joker now that he had the chance using one of the meditation methods Al Ghul
taught him, so he just waited eagerly to see the rare spectacle of the
unarmored Batman in action.
Joker tightened his grasp on Bruce’s neck who didn’t dare to close his eyes,
his heart kicking in his ribs. He was aware of Fury’s eager stare; the agent
waited Batman to attack. He felt Joker’s wet lips enveloping his ear, the scars
grazing him.
“Hot stuff… You’re gorgeous, Brucey…’’ he pressed his body on the trembling
youth’s. “IIIIIII can’t wait to… unwrap… MY… present…” he licked Bruce’s temple
and the younger man’s legs bent, Joker clenching the sweaty neck, keeping him
erect. “Youuuuu can’t wait to lie under me, eh?” he whispered.
“I wonder what Falcone waits; to come of age?”  Bruce’s body became tenser,
hearing that sneering voice; he didn’t need that right now.
Fury felt disgust but he restrained himself from beating the goons and
snatching the Joker. Wayne would break at any moment and smash Joker…
The clown felt Bruce’s cheek with his lips, pinning him painfully to the wall.
“Do not even think of knee me like that dork LexiLu…”
Bruce closed his eyes feeling exhausted from the frantic heartbeat and the
painful gasps. Joker’s lips nauseated him.
“Call yar mommy to save ya”
“Please…” he whispered, trying to avoid Joker by pressing his cheek to the
wall.
“Daaaaady! I want you to call ME DADDY!”
“Now call yar daddy...” Chill added in a distant echo.
Bruce gulped as much as Joker’s grip on his neck allowed him. He shook barely
his head in denial.
Joker raised his head his eyes glistening maniac. Fury understood and his eye
bulged as Joker’s purple - gloved hand jolted into the air and slapped Bruce’s
face sending him to crash on the small table with the printer beside his desk
and then on the floor.
 
Clark was among the crowd of the reporters swarming Commissionaire Gordon for
Police’s official announcements about the events in the Opera House. He had his
smart phone stretched towards Jim Gordon recording his statements and his
answers to Gotham’s journalists, sending them automatically to Planet’ssite.
“Would you say that Bruce Wayne is safe from Joker’s threats?” Clark asked the
Police Commissionaire.
Jim pushed the rim of his glasses to his nose with his finger and looked calmly
at the reporter from Metropolis. But Clark could discern the man’s worry.
“Measures have been taken which for reasons of security I can’t reveal
publicly, Mr. Kent. Mr. Wayne’s security like every citizen’s in Gotham is our
top priority.”
Some reporters snorted on that but Clark didn’t have any mood for irony.
“Commissionaire!” he called Gordon’s attention who had already turned his head
to answer questions of other reporters. “This morning Mr. Wayne attended the
Phelps’ funeral and he stayed there for more than an hour; He was all alone
there…” Gotham’s reporters gasped: they had lost the chance to some juicy
photos of the sad Prince. “Were you aware of this? And if you were why there
wasn’t any police presence?”
Gordon kept his cool although Clark knew that what he said was a surprise for
him: his men had followed Wayne’s car and guarded Phil’s cafeteria where they
believed that the young man was having his morning coffee – as a matter of fact
he felt for Gordon; he could even feel his shudder on hearing that the last
Wayne went to the funeral unprotected; no doubt that the young man left his
impressive car in front of the café to not draw the Press and disturb the
funeral and the mourners. His men were near the chapel and the cemetery but
still…
“Sometimes, Mr. Kent, the presence of Police is better to stay so discreet that
can stay undetected. Mr. Knox…” he turned his head to the Gothamite and Clark
saw him biting his lip and clenching his hand; the honest man didn’t like
telling lies but it was a matter of maintaining the public’s trust to the
police.
While Alex Knox made his question Rene Montoya came running to Jim who listened
to her whispering in his ear. Clark could hear that something happened to Wayne
Tower, an explosion; his guts became a knot. Why he hadn’t heard anything?
Jim raised his hands in the air.
“Thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen. That’s the end of the brief” Jim’s
voice was nonchalant; he didn’t want to let the Press suspect and meddle in
Police’s job and panic the people.
Clark followed him with his eyes as he rushed after Montoya outside the Press
Room of the MCU, ignoring the annoyed voices and jeers of the reporters who had
more things to ask.
“Casualties?” Clark heard him whispering to Montoya and the young woman shook
her head.
“It’s Wayne’s office, sir” she added with her steel voice.
“I thought that the place was impregnable…”
She shrugged.
Clark followed them outside the building walking calmly to not raise
suspicions.
“Call SWAT to swarm the Tower and the near buildings, ambulances to be stand by
and a helicopter to fly nearby but not at close proximity. Tell them not – I
repeat – NOT do anything till I say so” Jim’s voice was resolute and wild.
“Where’s his detail, damn it?!”
“Inside the building waiting orders, sir.”
Jim opened the door of his car.
“Is it Joker?” he asked his young detective calmly but worried.
“They’re not sure but…probably.”
“Damn! Com’ in, Montoya!”
“Batman?” she inquired jumping in the passenger seat.
Gordon shook his head starting the engine.
“We can’t hope this time; it’s still daytime…”
He accelerated fast, his tires making annoying screeching sounds.
Clark stood watching ready to hide somewhere to change and charge the Tower.
“Trust him, respect his wishes…” he heard his mother’s voice.
He sighed and shrugged. Bruce won’t be in danger; he could repel Superman… this
madman is piece of cake for him. And Stark was in the building so Ironman will
save Bruce even if his Star chooses to not show any portion of his abilities.
However he always could cover the news; some exclusive news was always good for
the Planet. So he called a taxi and headed to the Wayne Tower.
 
Cynthia Philips left the elevator and walked to Mr. Fox’s laboratory when the
red lights of the high level alert illuminated the walls: Lucius Fox made Wayne
Enterprises’ alert silent and working with discreet lights so that panic wasn’t
induced during a crisis. The scientist knew that the deafening sounds which
usually notify people for a danger only increase the confusion and therefore
the panic leading to more injuries as the crowd tries to flee.
The red light was only for attacks and breaches and Wayne Tower was
impregnable. She was confused but cooling herself down continued to Fox’s
laboratory to do what she came for.
The door opened and Fox pulling off his white robe and frowning came out. He
stared at Cynthia.
“What is it, Ms. Philips? Why are you here?”
She found again her stern demeanor, encouraged by Fox’s calm strength.
“I don’t know about the alert, Mr. Fox. But I came to notify you that Mr. Wayne
is in his office with that man, Fury and I heard a sound like broken glass and
I thought that you should know.”
Fox pressed his lips, his eyes slightly widened; he rushed to the lift followed
by Ms. Philips.
Upon leaving the lift to Bruce’s office they came upon Pepper Potts who through
her blue tooth was speaking to someone while she was typing on her tablet which
Fox had connected with the Tower’s database. Her resolute eyes focused on Fox.
“The Tower is breached, Lucius.” Her eyes widened knowingly. “Bruce’s office…
The external wall is demolished and the intruders inside…” her voice was steady
but her agony evident. “Five police officers came immediately – they’re outside
waiting to raid – and Gordon is on the phone wanting information about the
office which you know better…” she narrowed her eyes. “Where’s Tony? He didn’t
follow you?”
Lucius took the blue tooth from Pepper, cold from the fact that the unbreakable
wall to Bruce’s office was somehow destroyed and the young man was held hostage
inside. He adjusted the gadget to his ear.
“He isn’t in the building or the city…” Pepper’s eyes widened. “Fury sent him
to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s affairs…” he added pointedly and Pepper’s eyes flared up.
“When he finds out Fury better run for his life!” she burst enraged and
distanced to communicate with Jarvis to find Tony.
“Lucius Fox here, Commissionaire; I can give you every information you need.”
 
Harvey Dent was at his office with Rachel ready to go for lunch when Robert
rushed in.
“Sorry, Harv, but it’s lieutenant Bullock on line 4. It’s urgent.”
Harvey took the receiver and pressed the button. Rachel’s eyes shone taking in
every reaction in Harvey’s eyes, despite the young DA’s ability to hide his
true emotions when he wanted. But the thing was that Harvey didn’t want to hide
nothing from her.
Surprise, shock, apprehension, anger. He hang on the phone with such force that
it was a miracle the thing didn’t break.
He rubbed his temple and held his waist with both hands. He stared at her,
tilting his head at the side.
“I’m afraid that the lunch is cancelled; I must go…” he was already gathering
his stuff.
Rachel stood abruptly, her eyes worried.
“Can you tell me or is a secret?” she asked hesitantly.
Harvey shook his head.
“In a few minutes all of Gotham will know! Joker attacked Wayne Tower and holds
Bruce…”
Rachel covered her mouth with her hand.
“Where’s his friend Ironman?”
“I wish I knew!” he rushed to the door and Rachel followed.
Harvey stood surprised and looked at her.
“I’ll come with you; Bruce doesn’t deserve that…”
 
Fury saw Bruce on the floor hugging himself, bringing his knees to his chest in
fetal position. Com’ on, Wayne, cut the crap! Don’t let that freak molest you…
For God’s sake!
Joker stood above him, watching the blood dripping slowly from his cut temple
and his nose. He kneeled, grabbed the man’s shaking shoulders and laid him flat
on his back; then he straddled him and pushed his hands on the floor to let his
chest uncovered. Then he stripped him from his jacket, letting it on the floor.
Bruce looked him with eyes crystallized; he had abandoned every effort to
control his crazy aspiration and just bared the pain as he always did.
“Dooooon’t tell me that I am the first demon you see?” he hissed and exploded
in giggles.
“I have seen you many times wandering the caverns, human child…”a metallic
voice with a strange accent whispered freezing his blood and Joker’s face
became Falcone’s greasy one, Chill’s Vulture-like, Ra’s’ sarcastic lion-like
face and then Bane’s horribly disfigured one.
Joker collected with his finger the blood from Bruce’s nostril and brought it
in front of his eye.
“Loooook what you forced your daddy doooooo!” he cupped Bruce’s jaw and
squeezed it, yanking his head upwards. Bruce blinked rapidly “Youuuu’re a bad
boy, huh? A really, really naughty boy! I killed every bastard that hurt or
insulted you” he shook violently Bruce’s head and he closed his eyes “aaaand
you said in front of everyone that I’M NO BETTER THAN FALCONE!” he screamed,
his scars stretching grotesquely.
Bruce opened his eyes and tried to draw enough breath to speak.
“The… Phelps…were…” he inhaled “innocent…”
Joker clenched his hair and jerked his head so viciously that Bruce whined.
“To show you that ther’ are worse things out there…” he protested almost hurt.
“I did soooooo much for you and instead of welcome me with wide open arms…” he
frowned “nooooo… I prefer open legs… HIHIHIHI!” he winked and immediately
sobered. “Youuuuu deny call me DADDY! You disobey MEEEE!”
Bruce’s eyes bulged and his aspiration became again an asthma fit. Joker pulled
his captive’s head down and held it on the floor; he sprawled on the younger
man’s body and brought his lips on the neck he kept stretched. He sniffed the
sweaty flesh.
“That scent isn’t your cologne, huh?” he hastily loosened Bruce’s tie and
conjuring one of his blades cut the three first buttons of the shirt causing a
sharp intake of air from the younger man.
Bruce for an instance feared that the clown would see the stab wound Joker made
to him last night but thankfully the shirt wasn’t much cut and the madman was
too absorbed burying his nose in the dimple formed by his neck and collar bone.
Joker was grunting in delight.
“That’s youuuuur body’s perfume! Oooooooh, boy! It’s soooooo good!” his lips
nuzzled the dimple and then massaged Bruce’s stretched neck through his
upturned jaw. “I wanted our first fuck to be in home – you know, family stuff:
leather bindings, blindfolds, Batman coming by for a threesome… Buuuuuut I
think a quick screw is on demand…”
Joker’s goons giggled and Fury’s face distorted in disgust while the blade in
Joker’s hand made him shudder for the young man though he was sure that any
moment now he’ll throw the madman off him. He was ready to attack the goons as
soon as Wayne began his own attack to stop the clowns from shooting him.
However instead of Wayne hitting Joker Fury saw the jester’s gloved hand diving
inside the young man’s pants and sliding in his buttocks, smiling satisfied,
while Wayne tried to escape but the blade came to rest to his cheek warningly.
He closed his eyes desperately and soft sobs came to accompany his tears.
“Ooooooh, Bru-cey… Your ass is waaaaaaay better than it looks… You’ll make me
pull out my glove to feel it better…” he squeezed the soft flesh and a wave of
whines interrupted by gasps caught his attention.
“I nevr touched a Prince before... Yar so soft like melt chocolate...” Bruce
felt Chill’s heavy hands and then he was staring at the underside of Dolcetto’s
stair to the basement; the nauseating smell of tobacco, alcohol and sweat
attacking his nose as hundreds of different cruel hands pawed his buttocks,
while stubbly lips were covering his neck with saliva, quenching their thirst
on the stray boy before meeting the girls of the cabaret.
Joker pulled his hand from Bruce’s pants and looked him intrigued, his head
lolling to the right. The younger man made a feeble attempt to crawl underneath
the criminal but he tightened his straddle immobilizing him, the blade rapidly
placed inside his mouth with the sharp edge grazing the corner of his lips.
“You know, Brucey” he said seriously “I hate tears and crying babes…” he rolled
his eyes “You see, I’m a humble servant of comedy aaaand the only thing I want
is to make people laugh.’’
Fury’s eye was completely still, his breath halted, ready to stop the clown
from slicing Wayne’s face.
Bruce’s eyes wet from tears were glued on the man’s eerily serious eyes that
were admiring him. Inside, despite the disgusting metallic taste in his mouth
and the nightmarish old senses that assaulted his body, he was studying the
clown; the color of his eyes, their ticks, his scars, the man’s reactions; this
would be very useful in his research.
“Weeeeeell, when I see tears and hear whines I put my blade aaaaand gift them a
peeeermanent smile!” Bruce felt the blade twitching in his mouth. “Buuuuuuuuut
your tears are…” he felt the tears in Bruce’s eyes with his lips “mesmerizing,
your whines cute: Falcone was right: your crying is arousing! Noooow I
understand why he used to lash you with his belt before fucking your tooooooo
small ass…”
Bruce’s eyes widened in true disgust as Joker’s groin rubbed on his; the
clown’s length half erected.
“No!” he cried and the blade cut slightly his lip Joker hastily removing it
before doing more damage.
The madman clenched Bruce’s jaw frustrated and punched him in the nose stopping
entirely his aspiration.
 
Clark covered behind the corner of the neighboring cafe heard Gordon ordering
his men who waited outside Bruce’s office to be ready to storm inside on his
saying. Commissionaire planned to order the raid as soon as the helicopter
loomed outside the broken window so to distract the goons’ attention for the
few seconds his men on the floor needed to burst inside while the SWATs from
the helicopter would storm from the broken wall. His goal was to take out Joker
and his goons rapidly so that they wouldn’t manage to use Wayne and Fury as
shields; Lucius Fox had already disabled the lockout of the office.
Clark had sent the news to Perry, asking him to delay the publishing due to
Gordon’s wish yet the Planetwas the first news portal to relay the news for the
attack at Wayne Tower and Bruce Wayne himself.
Harvey was there and was watching Gordon’s actions, giving at the same time
orders to police officers to cordon the area from the arriving hoards of news
crews and curious bystanders. A young woman was speaking soothingly to him now
and then and sometimes turned her gaze to the broken window.
Suddenly, Clark caught with the corner of his eye two people trying to pass to
the front and a police officer stopping them. Alfred and Dr. Thompkins.
Thankfully, Gordon amidst his frantic activity noticed them behind the police
tape and ran there, ordering the officer to let them pass.
Clark wasn’t sure if Gordon knew who Alfred was but he called the doctor with
her surname.
“Dr. Thompkins, what are you doing here?”
Jim didn’t want to show any signs that he and the doctor had been partners
during the years of Falcone’s reign, helping people.
“I’m Bruce’s doctor” she answered calmly. “And this is…”
“Mr. Pennyworth, of course” Jim nodded. “The Tower is evacuated minus Mr. Fox
and Miss Potts; nobody goes in. You’ll have to wait.”
“Is he alright?” Alfred asked calmly.
Gordon pressed his lips.
“We believe so, Mr. Pennyworth. We’ll do everything we can to save him. Excuse
me now…” he headed with big strides to his officers.
Alfred yanked his head and gazed at the floor Bruce’s office was. Leslie held
his upper arm and he stared at her.
“You know who he is…” she whispered with her eyes widened. “I’m sure he
controls the situation…” Leslie gulped her urge to sigh.
The only one that was nowhere to be seen was Stark. Although Clark disliked the
man now he’d be very glad to see Ironman surging the broken wall and taking
Bruce to safety. Clark was worried for Bruce because while he was perfectly
able to defend himself, as the time passed, he was certain that he wouldn’t do
anything to save himself to not reveal his secret. And he had heard a mad
Gordon saying to Harvey that in Bruce’s office was Fury; Clark knew Fury and
S.H.I.E.L.D. and instantly understood what he was doing there and the madness
Bruce was implementing.
He pressed his lips. Damn, Bruce! Where are you, Stark?!  Bruce counts on you!
 
Ironman entered the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s plane from the huge hatch door in the back
side, this kind of entrance always making him feel like a human enema. He
walked on the enormous cabin where Avengers met. He deactivated his face plate
frowning because nobody was there and apart from the pilots and agent Hill in
the cockpit no Avenger was in the plane.
He didn’t like that and more so because the plane played hide and seek with him
till now.
“That stinks!” he burst angry; he had so many things to do and he wanted to be
near Bruce just in case.
Agent Hill entered the cabin and Tony turned immediately.
“What’s the meaning of this prank?!” he barked.
She stared at him seriously.
“There’s no prank, Mr. Stark; Director Fury called the monthly meeting of the
Avengers.”
Now Tony’s eyes spit fires.
“Are you serious?! The monthly meeting is in ten days; you made it seem like an
emergency!”
“Director called an emergency meeting.’’
Tony understood.
Fury threatened Batman with a gun, Bruce’s words returned to him. Tony, you’re
stupid! Fury called him for a supposed meeting only to get rid of him.
Agent Hill read his anger and heard his uneven breath.
“The others will be here any moment now” she smiled soothingly. “Ironman is
always the faster.”
Tony tilted his head smirking.
“Where’s Fury!” he roared and when Hill didn’t answer, he nodded nervously.
“Master Anthony, Miss Potts says that Wayne Tower is under attack and Master
Bruce is in danger… Daily Planet just announced it on…”
Tony stopped hearing and activated the face plate ordering the hatch door to
open.
“Pray Bruce is fine or all of you will be sorry!” he grunted and Ironman
launched flying in top speed to reach in time.
 
Clark heard Bruce moaning ‘no’ and then the clear sound of a punch, frail bones
breaking and the stopping of his Star’s breath. His own breath stopped along
with his heart and the world around him darkened.
He ran to the alley and span to change, his eyes becoming red.
 
Joker put the blade again in Bruce’s mouth whose breath from frantic became
scarce.
“The only words I want to hear from now on are: ‘yeah!’ aaaaaand ‘mooooore,
daaaady!” his other hand unfastened hurriedly Bruce’s belt, as he was rubbing
his throbbing member on his captive. “If I hear another ‘noooooooo’, I’ll give
you a permanent smile as I promised…”
He brought his mouth to the corner of Bruce’s lips and sucked the flesh. Bruce
felt his rear end throbbing, aching as if he was already penetrated and gritted
his teeth.
Fury had had enough! It was obvious that the boy couldn’t save himself; his
theory was wrong and he had already been late to act. The poor boy would be
more traumatized because Fury permitted it. But he wouldn’t let it continue. He
back kicked one of the goons his heel sinking in the man’s groin while at the
same time he bombarded another one with a back fist; taking advantage of their
surprise grabbed their heads and smashed them together.
“No!” Bruce whispered as Joker made to lower his pants and the pain in his ass
became excruciating; Joker gripped his blade nipping the corner of his
captive’s lips.
“I warned youuuuuu, little gem…” Joker sang.
More than ten police officers with bulletproof vests surged as the door burst
open and Fury neutralized one more goon, the remaining two dropping their
rifles and raising their hands in surrender. However the Police helicopter that
they expected to make the distraction was nowhere to be seen and Gordon’s voice
barked to their ears that Joker had put transparent cables to stop the
helicopter from approaching, having predicted their intention.
Fury turned his head towards Bruce and Joker scared that the madman had already
maimed or killed the young man. His eye barely caught a red blue blur storming
at Joker and snatching his hand before the blade managed to slice Bruce’s
cheek. Joker screamed as both of his hands were twisted behind his back, the
one that was holding the knife broken.
The agent watched awed Superman lifting Joker by his lapels and pinning him to
the wall. His jaw was clenched and his eyes entirely red while his breath from
the boiling ire resembled Bruce’s. Fury shuddered yet the madman was giggling.
“Easy, eaaaaasy, boy… Mind the lapels… UHUHUHUHU! Oi!” he stopped laughing when
Superman punched him in the gut, controlling his power to not kill him but
still breaking some of the ribs. “Sooooomeone is angryyyyyy!” he sang and
Superman smashed him to the wall. “Com’ on, big fella; I wouldn’t maim
Bruuuucey’s face – who would destroy such beauty, huh?” he licked his lips. “I
juuuuust wanted to scare him to obey; he’s MINE after all!”
The alien roared making the walls tremble and everyone stared at him with
widened eyes as the enraged hero sank his knee to Joker’s groin. The madman
gasped with his eyes goggling.
“Thaaaaaat…hurt! Uh! Now I feeeel for poor LexiLu… Oi! Oi! I need THAT birdy
you know… We’re not all made of steel! HEHEHEHE… Don’t tell me… Another one of
Brucey’s ‘daddies’? Weeeeell… for an orphan he sure has maaaaaany ‘daddies’ to
play with!”
Superman’s world was narrowed to that lunatic mocking his Star who was on the
floor hurt by him. His eyes on their own volition began warming up, his hand
raised to squash Joker’s insolent head. Around him SWAT members, police
officers and bound goons watched silent.
And then a small sob was heard and Fury saw intrigued the most powerful being
of Earth turning immediately his head to the corner of the office where Bruce
Wayne had cringed. His hand was still raised a few inches from breaking Joker’s
cranium.
The agent saw with relief the enraged god-like being softening as his eyes took
in the battered young man; his eyes returning to their unique blue color. Bruce
had glued himself to the wall, trembling; his half face was softly rest on the
tough surface, trying to sooth the wound in his temple and his hands flooded
with blood hanged on his lap with the palms upturned. Fury felt sympathy seeing
the youth in such state, his tie askew, his white shirt torn and his pants
unbuttoned; the dark red of his blood in stark contrast with the shining white
of his expensive shirt. His breath wasn’t frantic anymore due to exhaustion but
had a so slow pace that wasn’t normal and indicated that he was on the verge of
fainting.
Clark’s fist on Joker’s lapel clenched unconsciously as he watched the blood
flawing abundantly from Bruce’s broken nose to blend with the blood from the
slightly cut on his lips' corner and the bruise forming in his entire cheek.
His temple was also bleeding from a small deep cut which still had shards from
the wooden table where he hit. His Star’s visible eye was covered with stray
wet locks but was still piercing him. And Clark understood so he lowered the
fist he was ready to launch on Joker.
Fury frowned: the Man of Steel melted before that weak, beaten being,
forgetting his ire to not disturb more the shocked youth. It was impressive:
the battered Bruce Wayne was directing Superman only with a tearful stare. If
only Wayne was Batman! S.H.I.E.L.D. would have also Superman’s alliance since
he’d keep always an eye on his… friend.
“You are a magnet for superheroes. You already have three superheroes defending
you: Superman, Ironman and… Batman. And without having to do anything, while I
must chase them to have a word. What’s your secret?”he recalled his snarky
question to Wayne almost three months ago at Stark’s party.
 “Being defenseless and in danger? Anyone with these standards is a magnet for
superheroes.”
He berated himself; only the thought of Wayne as Batman was sickening now
because that theory made him a passive witness to the man’s torture.
Clark let Joker land unceremoniously on his ass, ready to grab Bruce and take
him away from there when Lucius Fox rushed to the room and knelt before his
young employer.
“Mr. Wayne, are you with me?” the youth nodded slowly. “Can you tell me who I
am?’’ he asked gently as if speaking to a small kid.
Bruce nodded breathing strenuously and tried in vain to move his hands.
“Lucius” he whispered among his gasps under Superman’s agonized stare.
Lucius smiled though not in his usual carefree way.
“You’re safe, Mr. Wayne; Alfred and Leslie are coming…” he noticed Bruce’s eye
passing him and followed it to see a distraught Superman; he closed his eyes:
Bruce was showing him what was urgent, the hero was near Bruce. “Superman, no
words can express our gratitude for your intervention; I wonder if you could
take Mr. Joker away because he unsettles Mr. Wayne?”
Clark realized that he was goggling and several people were puzzled from his
attitude, so he fought his desire to stay with Bruce and nodded. He grabbed
Joker from his collar and took off for the MCU because he wasn’t sure that the
madman won’t escape if let in a police car. In his last glimpse of the office
Alfred and Leslie surrounded Bruce.
His flying all of the sudden became unstable so much that he was halted
abruptly a couple of times and was forced to just float in order to focus
before resuming his flight. He frowned; that was…odd, his flying was so smooth,
so natural that he never had to think about it and put an effort.
Joker sniggered, the cool air having revived him.
“Huhu! Next time I’ll go with Batman Airways! What’s the matter, big guy? Air
pockets? Oooooor this is the alien way of being hoooorny?” he winked and
giggled. “I know, I know…” he nodded “Bru-ceyyyy covered with blood is THE turn
on!” he winked smirking. “You know what I mean, huh? Nauuughty boy! Falcone
told me that once he spanked him so much with a crop that while fucking him the
blood streamed from his torn duff… Falcone used to shove to Bruuuucey’s little
hole reaaaally big things to make him cry and bleed, you knew that? Ugh!
 Bloodstained Brucey gives me so maaany juicy ideas for the next time… Mmmmm!
Aaaaaaaa!”
Superman glared at him.
“Zip it, you freak!” Clark spat disgusted. “And there won’t be next time! Shut
the fuck up now!” on the other hand, maybe Joker was right and his instability
was due to his…arousal.
“Aaaaand they say Batman is the bad boy… HEHEHEHAHAHA! I’M THE KING OF THE
WORLD!” he screamed completely unfazed by Superman’s irritation and the Man of
Steel rolled his eyes: certainly, Gothamites heard the lunatic…
 
Alfred kneeled and approached his huddled up master.
“Master Bruce” he whispered cautiously “it’s me, Alfred…”
Bruce raised slightly his head regarding the old man and nodded without making
any movement to leave the corner, his safe haven.
Alfred pressed his lips; he was aware that Bruce was acting but he couldn’t
stay there forever hardly breathing and bleeding from several wounds. He was
afraid for his older wounds and for his heart, too – and knew that Leslie
shared the fear. Also seeing him in this state brought back images from his
master’s past tortures when the only thing he could do was to witness and
afterwards soothe the pain.
“Master Bruce, it would be alright if I touch you?” he asked shyly his eyes
locked with Leslie’s, who nodded encouraging.
The young man made a low humming sound of acceptance and Alfred placed gently
his hands on Bruce’s upper arms and drew him slowly to his chest. The blood
from Bruce’s nose instantly soaked Alfred’s jacket but the loyal butler was
absorbed in caressing his master’s messy hair.
“Sssss, my dear boy; you’re with us, nobody is going to hurt you. Try to
breathe slowly…”
As much as Bruce was mostly acting all this time, he felt exhausted as if he
had just underwent one of Falcone’s, Chill’s or Al Ghul’s abuse sessions and
the truth was that Joker’s harassment made him relive them; even his insides
were hurting as if just penetrated. His tears were real; little dying Bruce
returned with his aching existence, little Bruce who thousands of nights
craved, prayed for Alfred’s soothing arms to hold him after his body was
tortured for unending hours and never had him there. He nestled his head in
Alfred’s shoulder and closed his eyes relieved, the wrinkled hand that was
rubbing his back warming him up.
Leslie realizing that Bruce couldn’t or didn’t want to control his aspiration
placed the ventilator she brought with her and when Bruce opened his eyes
surprised she sedated him with the syringe Lucius gave her, while Alfred
caressed Bruce’s bruised cheek to soothe him into unconsciousness.
Pepper was watching with her palm covering her mouth. However Fury’s presence
didn’t pass unnoticed. The young woman frowned angry and stormed towards the
unsettled agent.
“Come outside, now! I don’t want to upset more these people…” she commanded the
director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the man although narrowed his eye followed her to
the hallway the moment that the paramedics brought a stretcher to take Bruce.
“Miss Potts, it’s a pleasure…”
His phrase was cut abruptly by a violent slap that lolled his head. Fury turned
his astonished eye to look at the angry woman.
Pepper crossed her arms and regarded him with glowing eyes.
“I hope you’re satisfied now, Mr. Fury! That was disgusting! That was
despicable! You made a false alarm to draw away Tony in order to corner Bruce
undisturbed! Why? What do you want from him? What’s the meaning of tormenting
him?”
Fury shook his head in negation.
“Miss Potts, I didn’t mean any harm for Mr. Wayne…”
Pepper shook her head exasperated.
“Are you kidding me? You used vile methods to isolate the man; you fooled Tony
who offered so much to your cause; you threatened Bruce to see you despite the
fact a restraining order was issued against you: for goodness’ sake, you
exposed Bruce to that homicidal madman while Tony would have smashed him just
for laying his eyes on his friend! And now Bruce is injured and suffered a
panic attack! Do you know how detrimental this experience was for a man with
his history?!”
Fury knew all these and he regretted everything that had happened. He inhaled
deeply, as the stretcher carrying the unconscious Bruce passed them with Alfred
and Leslie following.
“I’m sorry for all these, Miss Potts…” Fury mumbled. “Listen…”
Pepper dag her red-nailed finger in his chest.
“No, you listen! What you did has no excuse! Tony trusted you and you fooled
him causing his best friend’s injury!” she shook her head smirking. “Tony is on
his way here enraged; pray that Leslie would manage to patch Bruce up before he
arrives because if he sees what Bruce was through because of you…” she laughed
“you’ll be really sorry for what you did!”
She turned her back to him and hurried to catch Lucius who was entering the
lift leaving Fury brushing his head.
 
Clark Kent mingled with the roaring crowd of his colleagues taking pictures as
everyone else of the unconscious form of Gotham’s Prince who was carried to the
ambulance.
Gordon and Harvey barked orders to the officers to withhold the carnivorous
crowd that overcame police’s cordon and stormed to approach the stretcher. For
the first time Clark heard the low key man mumbling curses as he and Harvey
hurried to assist the officers who protected the running paramedics. Among the
police officers protecting the stretcher, Clark discerned Mr. Petrou, the man
Bruce saved twice.
Clark fought the urge to break the bones of his monstrous colleagues; the pale,
battered face of his Star was a kryptonite stabbed in his heart and Batman
couldn’t remove this time. Bruce's mouth was covered with a respirator to
normalize his breath and he was sedated. His eyes were gently closed with messy
hair brushing them and blood was still flowing from his clearly broken nose as
from his hands that were hastily wrapped with gauzes. He was aware that none of
his injuries was life threatening yet Bruce was in pain and although pain was a
second nature for his Star he didn’t bear the thought of him suffering…
He looked so frail, so vulnerable and so beautiful that he wanted to surge
there and kiss the sleeping beauty to wake him up but he couldn’t so he kept
taking pictures some of them for his article for the Planetbut most of them for
his personal archive: a reminder that Bruce although uniquely skilled and
formidable was still a human, only a well aimed hit needed to cut his life… He
shuddered; there was no chance he’ll let Bruce unprotected, along with his Ma
he was the most precious thing in his life …
 
***** Chapter 32 *****
Talia watched from the black sofa of her office the live coverage of GCN’s
reporter from the Wayne Tower. She was sipping a strangely looking liquid her
eyes deep in thought focused on the enormous screen. The camera zoomed on Bruce
Wayne’s unconscious form as the stretcher ran before the buzzing crowd of the
Press.
“Our information is still cloudy, Mike, as we wait for the Police’s official
announcements”Alex Knox who was replacing Vicky Vale in covering the important
events of the city answered Mike Engels’ question. “However, according to the
Daily Planet whose site first posted the news of the ‘Wayne Tower’s Breach’ the
culprit was the Joker who held Bruce Wayne hostage in his own office; it is
rumored that in the office was another person who helped the disarming of
Joker’s goons. Yet we didn’t see Joker among the arrested who were embarked in
Police’s van; what we did see was Superman flying from the Wayne Tower carrying
someone with him who according to some Gothamites was Joker – they heard
his…unique laughter.”
“We see the video now, Alex…”
The image captured by the camera wasn’t too clear but it was evident that it
was Superman at the cloudy Gotham sky holding someone. Then GCN broadcasted
another video from a cell phone and Talia leaned towards the screen with
interest. Engels commented that the quality was bad but Talia knew that the
unstable flight of Superman wasn’t a matter of poor quality.
She smirked; their little human Kryptonite was very effective…
“Have you any intelligence about Mr. Wayne’s condition, Alex? The images are
quite disturbing.”
Knox nodded and fixed his earbud to hear better, since around him his
colleagues made fuss trying to relay their own correspondences.
“Indeed, Bruce Wayne’s image on the stretcher was shocking but Miss Potts
reassured us that his wounds aren’t life threatening but demand medical
attention; nonetheless she refused due to security reasons to tell us to which
hospital the Wayne heir will be transferred. On the other hand, the presence of
Doctor Leslie Thompkins, Mr. Wayne’s personal doctor, is an indicator that Mr.
Wayne would be treated at Dr. Thompkins’ free clinic which with Mr. Stark’s and
lately Mr. Wayne’s funding had become the best health facility in Gotham and
the center of ‘Martha and Thomas Wayne Haven’ both men’s dream project.”
Someone knocked on the door and she lowered the volume, crossing again her legs
nonchalant.
“Come in, Bane” she could understand her loyal lieutenant’s presence even
behind doors.
He came in and bowed his head in respect; he was holding reverently with both
hands something muffled in black velvet.
She placed her empty glass on the table and gestured to him to approach; she
focused her eyes demanding on Bane’s covered face.
“It’s here, mistress.”
She smiled satisfied and rose. Her fingers touched the fabric and confidently
uncovered the object; her eyes shone greedily. It was the dagger with the
glistening blade made of diamond and the hilt from olive tree wood bearing the
engravings that the rumor had it that Alexander the Great made himself when
Goddess Athena gave it to him. The Knife of Justice that belonged to her father
before Bruce Wayne murdered him with it and returned it to the Greek people.
She brushed the wood awed.
“We replaced it with an exact replica so to not stir a turmoil that could reach
Wayne’s ears. They won’t notice the difference soon.”
Talia nodded.
“Nice” she gave her praise to Bane who had planned the operation. “Our little
Bat will need his weapon soon to serve his mistress” she covered gently the
ancient weapon and tucked it to her safe which protruded from the wall behind
her office when the beam she activated recognized her iris.
Bane who had followed her snorted, his eyes narrowed.
“You’re investing too much in that worthless being” Talia focused her smirking
eyes on his and he gestured to the screen that was replaying Bruce’s transfer
to the ambulance. “He couldn’t even defend himself from that loony crook!”
Talia now laughed hard.
“Oh, Bane! Your hatred for him is so fierce that clouds your reasoning” she
furrowed her brows “You were one of his trainers and you know his virtues.”
Bane rolled his eyes.
“Nothing extraordinary!” he said with contempt.
But Talia’s eyes glistened maliciously and her hand incredibly fast, almost
invisible grabbed his trachea with her large nails stabbing it, ready to
pierce. She yanked her head to look in the eye the giant whose eyes were
unfazed by the threat of imminent death and humble to his mistress.
“Then you call my father useless, since an ordinary man killed him!” she hissed
and Bane felt how sharp her nails were.
She pressed more to stop his breath and after a couple of seconds released him,
turning her back to him.
“Ra’s Al Ghul was more than a man” Bane said with his voice a bit hoarse from
the temporary lack of air but otherwise cool. “But he had a soft spot for that
brat and he used it against him. Fury neutralized the goons and Superman the
Joker.”
Talia turned her eyes to him, smiling wryly.
“Fury was in Wayne’s office?”
Bane nodded and Talia’s smile widened as her impressed eyes.
“Bruce is brilliant! A master of everything my father taught. He was acting; he
was giving an outstanding performance in order to not raise any suspicions to
both Fury and the Joker for his secret identity. I can only imagine the
possibilities of having him at my service!”
Bane didn’t want to disagree again with her so he changed the subject.
“Luthor has arrived and waits to see you.”
She nodded and her black eyes darkened more.
“It was his gun that Joker used to breach Wayne’s office.”
“I believe so, mistress.”
Her fist rose to the air.
“That Luthor is completely inept” she clenched her teeth. “He made the weapon I
wanted and ‘secured’ it to a warehouse, where this bozo found it and used it,
ruining our element of surprise.”
Bane wanted but didn’t dare to approach the Al Ghul heiress without her
permission.
“And he stole your plan to attack Wayne in his office and kidnap him.”
Now Talia was laughing with hysterics. She turned to her lieutenant and pinned
him with a stern, insulted stare.
“Don’t you dare compare my intelligence with that scum’s! That plan is
completely idiotic and based on the clown’s desire to just create chaos. I’m a
strategist, Bane; only a strategist like Bruce can understand me… I wanted the
breach to Wayne Tower as a distraction for capturing Bruce elsewhere
undisturbed by Superman, Ironman or even the Police who would have rushed to
the Tower.”
“The fact is that this clown got to your property first and he won’t stop. I’m
sure you’re angry.”
“You shouldn’t be sure for anything about me. It’s annoying that this… creature
meddles in my plans.”
“We can kill him to stop him from threatening what is yours and bragging that
Wayne belongs to him, while he is yours. He is in MCU’s cells right now and it
would be easy for us.”
Talia smiled slyly and her eyes became steely.
“Don’t be hasty, my loyal lieutenant. It’s annoying… but entertaining at the
same time watching that clown’s pitiful attempts to catch Wayne, ignoring that
he aims for the big prize; Wayne used him to his act to persuade Fury and I
will use him to distract the clever Bat from sniffing our scheme. Let our
little Bat play with the clown and use his remarkable abilities there; then
it’d be easier for us to capture him when his attention will be on Joker. Now
tell Luthor to come.”
Luthor entered the office after Bane opened the door; he came to Talia’s desk
with tense strides, his face irritated. The young woman had taken her seat
behind the curved desk and was looking at him lopsided, her amusement clear.
The billionaire gestured to the screen showing Joker’s grotesque face with the
caption Joker attacked Bruce Wayne - Police confirms.
“He stole my weapon and used it to kidnap Wayne!”
Talia showed him the armchair before her desk and he sat, rolling his eyes.
“That’s your problem, dear Lex” she purged her lips. “It was your incompetence
that allowed that; I hope that you at least didn’t have your initials on it.”
“Of course I didn’t. I know the tricks, Talia; despite your arrogant perception
of me, I’m not an idiot!”
“I hope so, Lex; I truly hope so…” she lifted an eyebrow.
He straightened his lapels dignified.
“I came here for the last part of our plan but now that this madman attacked
him everything is upturned.”
Talia shrugged.
“Why?”
“Wayne would be terrified and would use major security to guard him; not to
mention Ironman and Superman and there’s always the Batman. They will be always
close to him now and won’t let him alone even to piss. How do you expect to
snatch him from those superheroes’ hands?”
Talia chuckled.
“I didn’t know you to fear ‘superheroes’…”
Luthor rolled his eyes irritated and looked her in the eyes.
“I don’t fear them but I don’t underestimate them either.”
“Neither do I” she pointed each word. “Do you want to give up?” her question
was sneaky; nobody could give up his partnership with the League.
Luthor’s fingers dag the hands of the armchair. He wasn’t a man who ‘gives up’
and he wanted to take his revenge on Stark and Wayne for his humiliation and
seeing Superman caring so much for the young man, he was eager to break his
heart by taking him away from the alien.
“Of course not: I never give up but I like my plans to be perfect. I don’t like
failure. So I want to know all the details of your plan on isolating Wayne from
his protectors.”
Talia laughed and stilled her eyes on him.
“You’re in no place to ask things from me: you have already betrayed me once by
collaborating with Dagget to make a foolish attempt against Superman risking
our secret weapon. I should have killed you for that.” She shook her head in
contempt. “You wouldn’t have been a major loss…”
Lex snorted although that woman was creepy.
“If I wasn’t important, you would have killed me already. But you need me, as
your father did.”
Talia raised an eyebrow.
“Indeed” she said indifferently. “Thus you’ll take what we agreed: Wayne
Enterprises and the chance to have your personal revenge on him. However you
won’t have any inside to my plan except for what concerns you and only you.”
Luthor’s gray eyes stared at her without fear.
“And how I can be sure that you won’t backstab me?”
She yanked her head back and laughed but when she looked again at him her face
was angry, her eyes steely.
“You have much nerve, Luthor! You’re the backstabbing one here and you’re in no
place to pose requests. I give you too much and take only betrayal and insults
instead. Take what I offer or get out of here: I can achieve my goals without
you.”
Luthor inhaled thinking his options; suddenly, the giant’s looming presence
behind him became too apparent. Leaving this place without agreeing was a clear
enemy movement and the League’s enemies, especially those who were working with
the lunatics in the past, had zero chances to stay alive. And furthermore he
had more to gain than lose; after all, this Talia surely didn’t want to fail so
whatever she planned would be safe. And if something went wrong, he always
could deny everything; he had slipped from many tight holes in the past.
He pressed his lips.
“Okay, then. I know a skilled partner when I see him or…her. I’m sure that your
plan is flawless and I’m more than satisfied from what you offer me. So what’s
MY PART of the plan?” he smiled.
Talia answered the smile thinking that Lex Luthor and his musings were so
predictable.
 
When the first messages from his body began slowly stirring his brain Bruce was
reluctant to open his eyes to meet the world once again. He was sedated; he had
felt the needle piercing cautiously his arm when Leslie put the ventilator over
his mouth and nose. And that explained the numbness all over, the muffled
throbs from his wounds and his unwillingness to leave his secure rest.
He must be in a hospital but he couldn’t smell the usual unpleasant scent; of
course! He rolled his eyes behind the eyelids: he didn’t have the ventilator
but his nose was kicking in the pace of his heartbeat and felt like being at
least twice the normal size. Joker had broken his nose, he remembered and all
of a sudden the events that took place in his office came to him. He had loads
of things to do, so he had to rise as much pleasant this state was .
He opened his eyes and the light although mild annoyed him so he closed them
abruptly to reopen them slowly. The feeling of restrain in his hands became
softly increased in one of his hands and he realized that someone was there
with him. If he wasn’t sedated, he’d have sensed it earlier; and that was the
reason he didn’t want to be ever drugged: to be always in vigilance.
“Easy, Master Bruce” he heard the cool yet so soothing voice of Alfred and the
pleasant paralysis of safety flooded him again and this time not from the
drugs.
“Alfred…” he stared at the beloved wrinkled face.
“I’m here, Master Bruce; everything is fine now” although Alfred’s voice was
the same as always Bruce could detect that he was tired.
Alfred’s hand was holding his which was bandaged.
“Where’s Tony? He wasn’t…” he didn’t have the mental clarity to express it
right and he didn’t want to sound as a complaint; he knew that Tony’s absence
was due to something important and he was worried.
Alfred nodded understanding.
“He was called by Mr. Fury for an emergency and he was far from Gotham when the
attack issued. He came here as soon as he reached Gotham, Leslie reassured him
that you were fine and that you’d wake up in two hours so he set off to find
Mr. Fury and to Lucius’ laboratory; he had something very significant to do
with Lucius.”
Bruce nodded; so many things, urgent things to be done and he was sleeping. He
sat on the bed and took the sheet off him. He looked frustrated the hospital
gown.
“Hospital gown? Really? I hope you brought some clothes to wear, Alfred.”
Alfred’s gaze was stern.
“What are you doing, sir?” he asked briskly, not angry but determined.
Bruce didn’t roll his eyes, not to Alfred, and took the IV’s catheter with the
purpose to pull it out.
“Leaving.” He answered doggedly.
However Alfred’s hand cupped his which was still not very operative from the
injury and held it. His butler’s eyes were steely.
“You’re not going anywhere. You’re unbelievable, Master Bruce” he scolded him
and now Bruce sighed.
“Leslie said that I’m fine and I know that my wounds are superficial. And” he
stressed that “there are many urgent things to do; I can’t have Tony and Lucius
working, while I slack off…”
Alfred frowned disapprovingly for the phrase his master used, a remaining of
growing up in Gotham’s scum.
“I’m not a noble…” Bruce snapped figuring out Alfred’s thoughts and then
regretting his words “alright; while I’m being idle, satisfied?”
 “Quite, sir; however I have to remind you that you are not ‘being idle’ but
recovering. And Superman caught Joker who is in custody at MCU so there’s no
urgency in Gotham right now. The latest crisis was settled by him…” Bruce
understood Alfred’s tone “without his intervention, things would have been
complicated, because Police’s helicopter couldn’t approach the office; he saved
you, Master Bruce…”
While you treated him like a creep, kicking him out of the Manor and of your
life… Bruce completed the sentence and looked at his hands. Alfred placed his
hand on Bruce’s and the young man raised his eyes on the old man’s face.
“He cares for you, Master Bruce, and he is a good man; I know he is” he pressed
his lips. “I also understand that you sense that his love is…deeper and that
is…unsettling for you; however I believe that he is emphatic enough to accept
that you’re not ready, so your kindness and friendship would be happiness for
him.”
Bruce clenched his teeth and avoided Alfred’s eyes; he was still dizzy and
nausea hit him hearing from his butler what himself was thinking when emotion
made him forget the facts. He couldn’t keep hiding it from Alfred… He inhaled
deeply.
“I’m bad for him, Alfred…’’
“He is old enough to decide that for himself, sir.”
Bruce shook his head.
“All this…love” he wasn’t good in this “Alfred, is not true.”
“How can you be sure, sir? I know that your entire life you were surrounded by
people wanting to take advantage and hurt you but now it’s different; you can
try: he is…”
“He is drugged, Alfred!” he spat frustrated and rubbed the stitched part of his
temple which was covered with a gauze. “Ra’s Al Ghul wanted to exterminate him
and believing that he would be lured by my tragedy, he…” the young man
hesitated for an instance “…for ten years he was applying to me a substance
that weakens Superman whenever he gets close to me, making Kryptonite’s effects
more detrimental to him.” Bruce saw Alfred’s blue eyes slightly widen. “It’s
highly addictive for that he wants to be constantly with me but each time, he
becomes weaker and an encounter with Kryptonite could kill him.”
“Are you sure, sir?”
“Lucius confirmed it. You understand now why I treat him like that?”
“You could tell him the truth, Master Bruce” Alfred lifted an eyebrow for
emphasis.
“If I tell him that, he might do something stupid and dangerous to himself to
protect others… As soon as Tony and Lucius immunize him to the effect, he’ll be
safe.”
“And his love would be gone; that is what you believe, right, sir?” Alfred
asked with that piercing wise stare. “Or should I say that you wish that?”
Sometimes Bruce hated Alfred’s ability to read him so he lowered his leg
determined to leave that room and that discussion.
“I don’t have time for this, Alfred… I must get to my computer.”
“I don’t think so, young man!”
Bruce saw Leslie entering the room and closing hurriedly the door, a really
stern expression on her face. He closed his eyes frustrated.
Leslie crossed her hands and approached, her eagle eyes scrutinizing him above
her glasses.
“Leslie, you know that my injuries are ridiculous” he said exasperated.
“There’s no reason to stay here.” He saw her ready to retaliate and he nodded.
“My appointment is for tomorrow; I have some hours until then to exploit.” He
put his feet on the floor and felt some weakness yet he was determined.
Leslie tilted her head to the side and pressed her lips in an annoyed line.
“Your health isn’t worthy enough?” her voice was cold.
His training and strength helped him to stand without staggering but he felt
the wound on his stomach stretching.
“Tomorrow I’ll come for my tests, okay?” he smiled to soothe her yet she was
adamant.
“You’ll stay here, young man; although many things have happened from then,
only 24hours ago you lost half of your blood and today you bled again quite
excessively” Bruce rolled his eyes and Leslie saw it. “Don’t roll your eyes,
Bruce Wayne! For the time being you didn’t manifest any symptoms of concussion
but you hit your head in a sharp wooden edge…” she nodded to Bruce’s surprised
expression “who do you think removed the wood shards from the wound to stitch
you up? And your nose is broken, so, as a responsible doctor AND your parents’
friend, I won’t let you leave before the crucial hours pass. And” she widened
her eyes for emphasis “you put up an act to convince that you’re a defenseless
man; tell me, great director and actor, what will be  Mr. Fury's impression and
the police officers' who guard the clinic when they see you walking out of here
three hours after the traumatizing assault against you?”
Bruce froze and Alfred chuckled.
“Fury is here?”
Leslie nodded.
“You performed superbly yet you’ll ruin everything if you leave now. On the
other hand” she grabbed Bruce’s one upper arm while Alfred took the other and
sat him on the bed “if Mr. Fury sees you on a wheelchair heading for a lengthy
battery of medical tests, he’ll be persuaded once and for all that Mr. Wayne is
way too fragile to be Batman.”
Bruce was impressed.
“You’re wicked!”
“That’s what a decent doctor must scheme in order to do her job!” she sighed
and Bruce smiled with pressed lips, feeling the bite of the cut Joker did to
him.
“Tony told you about Fury?”
She resettled the IV’s catheter into his arm and Alfred smiled to his master.
“He did but I had my suspicions…” she took the intercom which hanged on the
wall and called for a wheelchair to Mr. Wayne’s room. She was really grateful
to both Bruce and Tony for making that derelict clinic a jewel for the health
care of people in need.
“Leslie, I was sedated; isn’t that going to affect the tests’ results?”
Leslie brought her hand to her waist.
“You never give up, Mr. Wayne, eh?” Alfred smiled pointedly to the doctor. “The
tests we’re going to do won’t be affected.”
Bruce wanted to sigh; he was aware that these tests were necessary but his guts
had already become a knot. He didn’t like, he didn’t bear people touching him
but he was going to tolerate it. And then he’d find a way to work from here or
sneak out.
When a nurse brought the wheelchair and left, Bruce sat without assistance and
turned to Leslie.
“How are you going to explain the injury on my stomach and shoulder to your
doctors? It’s obvious that the stitches are new.”
Leslie smiled while Alfred fixed a bit his master’s messy hair.
“I told Dr. Martinez that the night Falcone took you as a hostage you were
injured during the car crush and that these wounds needed to be re-stitched due
to a small infection.”
Bruce smirked.
“And she believed that?”
Leslie’s gaze was scolding.
“I never lie to my colleagues except for a particularly annoying patient of
mine! Shall we?”
The young man wanted to stall it but nodded and Leslie opened the door for the
wheelchair that was pushed by Alfred.
Thankfully, on the spacious corridor there was no sign of intruders, only some
patients waiting to be examined. Bruce looked lovingly his surroundings:
everything shone brand new and clean, equipped with cozy, comfortable seats,
warm and with a discreet pleasant smell that had nothing common with the usual
appalling scent of the hospitals.
“Congrats, Leslie! You, Tony, Pepper and Lucius made a tremendous work. It’s
better even from those years my dad was funding the place.”
“We wanted the best for a place your parents dreamt and you loved so much” she
answered nonchalant. “And Tony wouldn’t have any less for a place which was
meant to take his friend’s name…”
Bruce gulped remembering Tony’s agony when he asked him if he was truly his
long lost friend. He felt guilt for not letting him know for so much time even
though there was no other way.
He coughed.
“What’s first?” he yanked his head to look at Leslie who walked at the side of
the wheelchair.
“General physical examination.’’
Bruce tensed up; that meant taking off his clothes – the hospital gown, that is
– and being naked in front of a stranger. His heart gave a jolt but he hastened
to silence it; what did he really expect?
“Master Bruce, do you want me to stay with you?” Alfred instantly understood
his uneasiness and halted.
“No, Alfred, thank you” he smiled. “After all… it’s a doctor…” he wished he
coaxed himself first.
“I’ll be there all the time, Alfred; I won’t let him alone” Leslie pointed.
Bruce rolled his eyes; they were talking as if he was a frail kid needing all
the time cuddling. For pity’s sake, he was for eighteen years in Falcone’s
custody!
As his gaze wandered the friendly – unlike the most hospitals – cream colored
space, he came upon Fury’s approaching figure. The agent looked shaken but if
he had met Tony, he wouldn’t have dared to come here – not to mention that he
could bear some bruise…
Fury hastened his strides to meet them and squatted in front of him not wanting
to tower the young man in the wheelchair.
“Mr. Wayne, I want to tell you how deeply, how honestly sorry I am…” the man
had lost all his arrogant, sarcastic self confidence and even his eagle eye
became warm.
Bruce smiled uncomfortably.
“That I’m not the great man you believed? I’m sorry for that too, Mr. Fury…”
Fury’s eye showed his guilt. He shook his head in dismissal.
“Don’t say that again, Mr. Wayne; you’re a great man, the bravest I ever met
and I met many brave men and women.” His eye widened in emphasis. “I want you
to remember that.”
Bruce smiled shyly and nodded seeing warmth on Fury’s tough features.
Fury could understand all these superheroes for being protective of this man;
Bruce Wayne might not be Batman but he had a quality that won people, even him
who was used to the most skilled and special beings of this world. He stretched
his hand for a handshake and the young man took it with his bandaged hand. Fury
shook it cautiously.
“We must leave now” Leslie said unmoved from Fury’s attitude and the man stood.
“Is everything alright?” he asked worried. “They announced that Mr. Wayne…” he
was afraid that his stupidity could have caused the youth a serious maybe
permanent injury.
“There’s nothing serious but we must be careful with Mr. Wayne’s history.”
Fury dumbfounded moved aside and they walked towards the treatment room.
“You overacted, dear Leslie…” Alfred mumbled to his friend.
Leslie narrowed her eyes.
“The Shakespaerean expert’s review!” she snorted.
Alfred lifted an eyebrow.
“As a matter of fact, my dear, for a while I have been an esteemed member of a
notorious theater in Britain” he retorted dignified.
Leslie chuckled.
“An extra, I’m sure…” she teased him.
Bruce would have laughed with their playful interaction yet he felt the knot
inside his stomach tightening as the door under the sign ‘Treatment room’
loomed.
“Master Bruce, I can come with you” Alfred repeated his offering sensing the
young man’s uneasiness.
“I’m fine, Alfred; it’s not a big deal.”
However the first thing that captured his gaze upon entering the room with
Leslie pushing the wheelchair made him freeze. Everything was of the latest
ergonomic design but what darkened the white colored room for Bruce was the
gynecological examination chair he knew that once again was waiting him. He
felt Leslie’s hand squeezing reassuringly his cold shoulder.
 
Tony with Pepper walked in Leslie’s free clinic using the convenient back
entrance that the flock of reporters that flooded the street didn’t know. Both
were sure that the formidable doctor would be furious for the reporters’
intrusion that hindered people in need to enter the building. Thankfully many
officers where there to maintain a free corridor to the clinic for the
patients.
The two hours Leslie told him that would be required for Bruce to wake had
passed and he craved to speak with him, to explain why he wasn’t there, in the
Tower, when he needed him and to announce him that Lucius and he had managed to
isolate two more factors of the substance.
Crossing the buildings’ shining corridors to Bruce’s room he felt proud; the
clinic was even more impressive than the last time he was there, three months
ago. Also he saw many people, residents of the Narrows of various financial
states that their upper level was the poverty line. A pang of regret ran him
for his expensive clothes.
But Pepper smiled to him.
“Most of these people are already members of the Haven; live in the apartments
and being educated to find a decent job or they work for Wayne Enterprises
already; soon with the official opening more people would be benefited.”
Tony nodded.
“That’s…that’s nice, Pepper” he said hoarsely his eyes focused on a boy around
ten who sat at his mother’s side; the boy’s clothes were decent but Tony
couldn’t help but imagine Bruce at the boy’s age dressed with rags stained by
his blood or other people’s fluids…
Pepper held his hand.
“Your money have value here…”
However Tony stopped hearing her upon seeing Fury at the corridor in front of
Bruce’s room. The pristine clinic and the people around faded leaving only Fury
in his world.
Pepper vainly attempted to call him. Tony stormed at Fury and the veteran
didn’t even realize what grabbed him. The billionaire without activating
Ironman’s armor punched him in the jaw and immediately snatched his lapels,
hoisting him to the wall. Fury was much taller than Tony but in the state of
ire he was, Tony felt as a giant versus an ant. He pinned Fury, growling.
“You sneaky son ova bitch!” he roared through gritted teeth.
“Stark, let me exp…”
Tony tightened his grip on Fury’s lapels and slapped him.
“You sent me away to corner Bruce and threaten him, you cowardly asshole!
Because of you that bastard attacked him! And he is injured and in pain while I
could have saved him!”
Fury could at least attempt to escape Stark’s grip but he was feeling guilty
and also he didn’t want to risk Stark activating Ironman in here more so being
the target of an enraged Ironman.
“I’m sorry, Stark; I’m really sorry for Br…”
Fury heard Stark’s teeth grinding.
“Don’t utter his name, you dork! I almost lost him again due to your vice,
asshole! What do you want from him, you fucker?! My money wasn’t enough for
your fucking organization?! I warned you!”
“I didn’t want anything to happen to him…” Fury said apologetically. “But
you’re right; I acted like an asshole… But I wouldn’t have let them…”
Fury groaned as Tony’s knee found his groin.
“Superman saved him, you like a perv just watched Joker molesting him! You sick
bastard! What might Bruce have done to you to let him unprotected while this
lunatic threatened him?”
Fury managed to even his breath and looked straight at Tony’s eyes that were
brighter than the lenses of his armor.
“Listen, Stark, it was a grave mistake…” he attempted to reason with the
younger man who hoisted him more.
“You want to tell me that Bruce could have been dead by your ‘mistake’?!”
“I thought he could…”
“For eighteen years I believed him dead, for eighteen years he was tortured
every day and when I found him again I thought that I could give him the
happiness he lost. Instead I saw him writhing in his sleep from flashbacks; his
torturers still alive to cause him pain. I promised never to let anyone harm
him again and because I TRUST YOU and you fooled me that monster lay his filthy
hands on him adding new terrors in his soul. Do you think I give a fucking damn
about what you thought?! I wish I was like that madman and…”
“Tony, please…” Pepper touched his upper arm “people are staring.”
However Tony kept clutching S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Director, his jaw set and his teeth
protruding, his eyes piercing the man’s eye.
“Mr. Stark, we’ll take it over from here” a strong male voice intruded yet Tony
didn’t want to let his pray.
Pepper snatched his upper arm and only then he let Fury and looked at the
newcomer. Although his eyes were still narrowed and foggy from anger he
recognized Harvey Bullock and two other officers.
Bullock looked sympathetically the disheveled billionaire and approached Fury
who was fixing his clothes. Bullock showed him his badge.
“Lieutenant Harvey Bullock, Gotham’s PD. There’s a warrant for you for
violating a restraining order and threatening Mr. Bruce Wayne.”
“What?” Fury yelled and Pepper held Tony from attacking him again.
“There are witnesses who testified that you threatened Mr. Wayne to meet you in
his office. You have two options” Bullock tilted his head, his eyebrow raised
“either you leave Gotham immediately or you’re taken into custody.”
Fury read the warrant and saw Dent’s signature.
“You can’t arrest me; I’m an official partner of the federal government.”
Bullock snorted.
“You’re in Gotham City’s jurisdiction, so, in fact, we can arrest you. What
will be?”
Fury fumed and Tony walked forwards.
“If you agree, gentlemen, Ironman can kick his sorry ass out of this city;
it’ll be Ironman’s last service to S.H.I.E.L.D.”
Now Fury’s forehead showed the sweat drops he was holding till then. That was a
disaster; he tried to trap Batman into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s force and failed; and now
they’ll lose Ironman too… and his money.
“Be my guest, Mr. Stark!” Bullock smirked and Tony’s armor was activated.
 
Bruce rose from the wheelchair and sat on the examination table, his eyes on
the gynecological chair.
“What are you planning to do, Leslie?” he whispered as the unknown female
doctor approached.
“What is necessary, Bruce” Leslie answered affectionately. “I want the best for
you: you understand that, don’t you?”
He didn’t answer; he knew; he knew that was necessary but…
“Hello, Mr. Wayne; I’m Dr. Evangelin Martinez” a woman around her mid thirties
offered him her hand for handshake and he took it. “I’m aware that some aspects
of this examination could and would be unpleasant to you but I want to assure
you that I’ll do the best I can to minimize the discomfort.”
She seemed to wait for his answer and Bruce wanted to yell at her that he
didn’t need her speech memorized from the manual for rape victims. Leslie
sensed his agitation and touched his shoulder.
“Can we just get over with it?” he snapped and the doctor smiled.
“Could you lower your gown?” she adjusted her stethoscope and Bruce reluctantly
but hastily to not let Leslie help him lowered his gown to his lap, watching
unfriendly doctor’s every move.
After a thorough examination by listening and feeling both at his chest and
back the doctor said to Bruce that he could wear his gown.
“Mr. Wayne, your general state is remarkably good but we need X-Rays and a
thorough examination of your heart to have a clear image.”
“My heart was tested two months ago” Bruce snapped. “You can see the results.”
“It’s better to have a follow up examination, Bruce” Leslie stressed and he
didn’t reply anything; he should stand through this.
Dr. Martinez placed the stethoscope in its case.
“Mr. Wayne, can we proceed to the next stage or do you want some time?”
Bruce knew what she meant and felt his legs paralyzing. Leslie made a sign to
the younger doctor and she went to adjust the chair. The elder doctor came in
front of Bruce and stared him in the eyes.
“That scum who tended you as a child was using such a chair?” she asked warmly.
Bruce smiled bitterly.
“Let’s get over with it” he said determined not wanting to speak and made to
stand.
But Leslie cupped his face and Bruce became again that small kid.
“Not that fancy and not always. Most times he strapped me in a bench but
sometimes he used a chair for adult women. He was stretching my legs too much
to reach the leg-rests and was bounding my ankles there. He wore gloves but…”
he looked at the ceiling “he played with his fingers inside me and jeered me
and then applied substances that pained too much. And he was stitching me up so
painfully; I think the needle he was using wasn’t the proper…” he rubbed his
gauzed temple. “Can we go now?”
Leslie pressed her lips.
“I’m sorry, Bruce… That man was…” she removed her glasses and wiped her eye.
“Every doctor who will examine you is handpicked by me; all of them are great
people who care about their patients. Dr. Martinez sees daily victims of sexual
abuse: she is very competent and understanding. It’ll be unsettling but we must
find if they have contaminated you, Bruce.”
Bruce shook his head.
“There’s no chance I’ll sleep with anyone to infect him or her and I’m careful;
I never use a public toilet and Alfred always wears gloves when he treats my
wounds.”
Leslie caressed his hair.
“You are my priority, Bruce. If indeed there is something I want to fight it
early, before it causes something serious.”
Bruce felt his anus aching as to confirm Leslie. He looked at her eyes.
“Alfred told you?”
“His worried expression is enough for me to understand.”
Bruce stood and walked to the chair followed by Leslie who wore her glasses
again. He sat without attempting to make it comfortable; it was vain after all…
Dr. Martinez wore her gloves and sat at the stool in front of the chair.
“Mr. Wayne, could you, please, place your legs to the rests and pull your
gown?”
Bruce didn’t close his eyes just stilled his stare on the wall following a
meditation method Ra’s taught him. He put his legs on the branches; they
weren’t as wide as in the old chair but he still felt as then. He uncovered his
hips. It wasn’t something new after all; Chill and Ra’s preferred to pin him in
the wall and spread his legs like this… No, forget these, try to focus on your
breaths, your heartbeat…
“Oh! Your majesty! Your little hole looks so greedy like this! I’m sure you had
another great night being ‘fed’ by Falcone… No, no, no, you little brat! I
don’t want your fucking phony tears; I know you’re a fucking slut…You love it
every time they fuck you till your ass is ripped… Moan for me, little slut,
there’s my finger in your asshole…”
“Bruce, are you still with us?” Leslie’s voice caressed his ear as her fingers
caressed his fingers which dag the arms of the chair.
“Leslie, we can cancel it” Dr. Martinez offered “and give Mr. Wayne the time to
calm down after today’s events.”
Bruce jolted.
“No, I’m fine. Please, proceed.”
It was the first time Bruce saw Leslie’s face pale.
“Mr. Wayne, I’m going to do a general examination and then collect swabs to
test for sexual transmitted diseases. I’ll try to not cause you much discomfort
although I know that it’s impossible to eliminate that completely. I’d like for
you to tell me if this procedure becomes too painful or if you want a break.”
Bruce focused his eyes on the opposite wall.
“Okay, doctor…”he couldn’t hide his irritation and impatience although he knew
that it wasn’t the doctor’s fault.
Indeed, Dr. Martinez was too competent in her job and her ministrations were
almost indiscernible but for him even that was too much and only his self
control kept his legs open. It hurt and he didn’t know if the pain was current
or an echo from the ministrations of the doctor from the past.
“Many lacerations are still visible and there are malformations from bad
stitching or untreated injuries. You must still experience a lot of pain, Mr.
Wayne…’’
“Some…” he answered, realizing that being used wasn’t enough; he had to bear
that too, especially since he was examined again by the court’s coroner.
Dr. Martinez began collecting swabs.
“How many people were forcing you into anal intercourse, Mr. Wayne?”
Bruce dag his fingers into the white leather of the chair and Leslie, her low
lip slightly trembling, tightened her grip on his hand.
“I told that to the coroner and… Fuck! I’m spread on this fucking chair with my
legs wide open, exposed with the hands of a stranger searching my insides when
it was supposed that I wouldn’t have to live that again and you ask me how many
people were fucking me while I already have told it so many times that is
ridiculous anymore! Open your TV on a gossip show and you’ll learn it!”
“Bruce…” Leslie exclaimed but Bruce was ready to step down from that torture
machine.
“It’s okay, Leslie” Dr. Martinez said soothingly. “I understand Mr. Wayne.”
“No, you don’t!” Bruce snapped. “Because you learnt by heart the manual for
rape victims' treatment  and you see everyday people’s abused…” he rubbed his
temple “insides to the point of being a boring side to you that doesn’t mean
you understand!”
The female doctor nodded gently.
“You’re right, Bruce – can I call you ‘Bruce’?”
“Call me whatever you want…”
Leslie was flabbergasted.
“I was fortunate enough to not be raped, especially repeatedly for almost all
my life, like you; so, you’re right: it was too arrogant of me to claim that I
understand: it was a wrong choice of word and I hope you’ll forgive me. All
these years working here I honestly do my best to understand what brave people
like you experienced and still face; some people tell me that I’m quite
empathic but I know that it’s not enough. So, Bruce, I depend on you to help me
understand and direct me in what you need from me to make that necessary but
cruel procedure a bit bearable.”
Bruce looked her in the eyes; her honey - colored eyes were honest.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Martinez; it’s not your fault” he said hoarsely but truthfully
and Leslie brushed his hair.
“Don’t be, Bruce. Us doctors can be really harsh in our attitude sometimes
without even realizing it.”
Dr. Martinez was heading to be his favorite doctor after Leslie of course,
Bruce thought.
“The first years were two, the men, daily… Later became three…daily. And there
was another but only once” he answered flatly her inquiry and realized that she
wouldn’t have gotten at least the second part of this information from gossip
shows.
“Is anyone of them accessible besides the one?” she asked meaning Falcone.
“No, they’re dead” except than Bane who…is not accessible.
“They forced you into oral intercourse as well, Bruce?”
He nodded.
“Then we must take samples from your throat, too.”
Dr. Martinez collected the samples and then some blood from his arm.
“I’ll have the results tomorrow, Leslie.”
“Fine and then we’ll begin testing Bruce for antibodies, Evangelin” Leslie told
to her colleague as Bruce fixed his gown and sat at the wheelchair “to decide
how to immunize his organism. Those bastards didn’t give a damn to build his
body’s defense…” she shook her head. “What I’m saying…”
She leaned over Bruce.
“Dr. Wallace, the dermatologist, awaits us but if you want I can reschedule
it.”
“No, Leslie. Let’s get over with it.”
 
At nine o’clock, the night was dense enough in Gotham to permit any kind of
crime to happen. So Superman after having hours ago sent his elaborated article
about today’s events to Perry, decided to keep an eye on Bruce’s city since
Batman wouldn’t be in position to protect her. Of course his ears were tuned to
Leslie Tompkins’ clinic where his Star’s heart beat.
He made his rescue interventions discreet because he didn’t want everyone to
realize Superman’s personal interest in the city and thus in the young
billionaire he just saved; it’d make Bruce a target to his enemies as if Joker
wasn’t enough for the youth.
Thugs being aware that Police was absorbed in guarding Joker and the clinic
where Bruce Wayne was, believed that the city was unguarded – which was untrue;
Jim Gordon kept the city under high security since he knew criminals’ way of
thinking. So Superman had just to cut some labels with his heat vision and drop
them to halt the culprits enough for the patrols to catch them. Acting in this
mysterious way people could think that it was actually Batman who intervened.
His hearing stopped getting Bruce’s vitals from the clinic near an hour ago and
he knew that it wasn’t from the usual games his powers played with him because
he was perfectly tuned with him. But he wasn’t worried; actually he had a smile
on his face.
“I should thank you” he heard suddenly a familiar voice behind him.
Damn! That hearing… He turned calm and saw Ironman without his face plate, not
a hint of sarcasm in his face.
“I’m Superman, right?” he smiled. “It’s what I do.”
Tony scratched his hair, his head slightly tilted. He returned from Fury’s
‘delivery’ and like Superman he made a patrol of the city before seeing his
friend; now Bruce should have finished with the exams.
“Thank you.”
“You changed your mind now or I am still a danger to him?”
Tony pressed his lips; he wanted to tell him everything but he felt that he
didn’t have the right.
“Just stay away from him… It’s for your own good, trust me.”
Superman nodded, smiling.
“I respect his wishes; I intervened because I was afraid since you were not
there.”
Tony sighed and Superman laughed to lighten the mood.
“I can’t hear his vitals from the clinic” he could speak freely since they were
on the rooftop of the radio center where the transmissions were so dense and
covered their words.
“And you’re laughing? Maybe he was kidnapped!’’
“I’d have located him again.”
“Not if they had him in a lead covered space.’’
“Or wore his suit which doesn’t let any vital to be detected… Batman delivered
to the police some thugs who attempted to rob citizens and a girl who escaped
her attackers testified that Batman beat them” his smile was broad and his eyes
amused as he took in Tony’s exasperation.
“That sneaky brat…Where is he now? I can’t locate him…”
Superman shrugged.
“Maybe you’ll find him in the clinic; he can’t stay out too much.”
“Boys…” a disappointed female voice startled them. “You can never trust them
for anything…”
Both men turned to the enormous trademark of the telecommunication brand that
controlled Gotham’s signals. A lean and curvy female body in form fitting black
leather was stretched on the tallest of the blue neon curves that crossed each
other all over a bright globe.
“Selina?” both of them exclaimed and she rolled her eyes.
***** Chapter 33 *****
Batman was perched on the grotesque gargoyle which overlooked Gotham’s lively
street from the City Hall’s rooftop showing his teeth; Gotham’s City Hall was a
building of gothic style with a history of almost two centuries. Batman’s eyes
without the lenses were focused on a small figure at a narrow balcony looking
hopelessly at the sky, his tiny hands clutching the unpainted railing.
Batman was breathing hard synchronized with the small figure; he could hear the
sobs even though the apartment building was behind the luxurious Regency hotel
facing the City Hall.
He dived in the sky stretching his ‘wings’ and landed on the fire escape of the
old and weathered building. He didn’t want to startle the kid so made his steps
discernible and emerged from the shadows of the small balcony.
However the boy absorbed in his sorrow didn’t sense him till then and turned to
him hastily wiping his tearful eyes. He was puzzled by Batman’s presence there
but his eyes were icy.
“Some people say that you don’t exist…I believed them because if Batman existed
he’d have saved my family…” little Dick shook his head and chuckled. “I guess
my family, my little brother wasn’t important enough for you…”
Bruce felt a stab in his heart; he approached the boy.
“I’m sorry for your loss; I wish I was there to save them” he squatted to see
the boy in the eyes without hiding his own behind the lenses.
“But you were there to save Wayne from Falcone – TV said it – and Superman
saved him again today… Nobody cared about Brian’s cries when that bastard
tortured him! Superheroes… Assholes! A bunch of losers that care only for the
rich…” the boy’s lower lip trembled with anger. “Brian was only eight years
old, you…you bastard!”
Batman closed his eyes; he didn’t care if he showed to that child something
opposing his fame.
“I know, Dick, I know; and believe me I blame myself for what happened. Your
family was as important as every other human being and their death was a great
tragedy; I want you to know that justice will be served to their killer and
that you and your grandmother will never be alone. I promise you.”
The boy’s eyes filled with tears but pierced steely his.
“I don’t want your promises” he hissed. “If you really want justice for my
family you’ll kill that monster as he did to my family!” he gritted his teeth
and seeing Batman’s saddened eyes for what he told, he groaned from the pain
that was boiling inside him. “Ugh! I can’t rely on you! I wish I was old enough
to kill them both!”
Batman frowned.
“Both?” he asked gently.
“Joker and Wayne… I wish Joker had killed him today!” his hatred waved his
voice. “But” he smirked “he is rich and Superman rushed to save him and the
entire Police went there… for him… and my family died because of him!”
Bruce felt for the boy; he wasn’t sorry because Dick hated him and wanted him
dead – Hell! He hated himself too… But seeing the boy’s pain that the hatred
aggravated made his heart broke.
“Killing your family’s murderer and whomever you consider responsible won’t
bring them back…”
But the boy didn’t want to hear.
“People say that you’re a demon who punishes bad guys; if you really care for
justice and you’re really sorry for my family, you’ll kill Joker!” his tearful
eyes shone angrily and then he lowered his head. “But you’re just a coward;
never daring to give to them what they truly deserve… Brian has to wait till I
grow up to get peace…” his voice was almost indiscernible.
Batman pressed his lips in a tight line and put his hands gently on the boy’s
shoulders. Dick looked him with narrowed eyes.
“You’re in pain, a pain that nobody can heal but do you think that your brother
will have peace if you kill someone, even his murderer? If you repeat what
Joker did? Do you think that your family would want you to ruin your life
making Joker’s killing your only purpose? And knowing that you’ll do that
because of them?”
The boy’s eyes flared up enraged as a new wave of tears burst out.
“What do you know about pain? You’re invincible, strong, nobody can harm you!
While I… Everything was taken from me and you came here to make a speech! YOU
SON OVA BITCH!” he punched him in the chest, his small fists hitting him
desperately as his teeth gritted. “I miss them so much…” he whispered and his
fists stayed suspended. “I want them back; I want to play again with Brian…’’
His exhausted head nestled in Batman’s chest and he just embraced the crying
boy, barely halting his own tears. He closed his eyes wishing he could hug the
boy as a human being and not like a creature of the night. However, the boy’s
sobs seemed to ebb somewhat.
“Dick, where are you, sweetheart? Your milk is ready.”
The boy calmer raised his head and looked inside the house. He detached
himself.
“My granny…” his voice was hoarse from the sobs. “I must go…” he turned where
Batman was crouched and found only air.
The boy shrugged doubting that all these were real…
 
Selina slid through the curve she was stretched on and landed on her 6’’
stilettos with the grace of a real cat. She straightened loosely her attractive
body and approached the two men with the agility of a dancing snake, her
emerald eyes shining angrily through the slits of her black eye mask. Her full
lips colored with ruby lipstick were smirking.
Tony couldn’t stop himself from whistling, his eyes widened.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed.
Selina tilted her head to the side and looked him sarcastic.
“In your dreams, handsome…” she dragged the words with coyness and solemnity.
“You’re back!” Superman said really happy.
She rolled her eyes.
“Obviously… For a being with a variety of different kinds of sight you’re not
making very smart observations.”
Tony shook his head amused.
“It seems that you and Bruce share the same qualitative humor…” he chuckled.
However Selina wasn’t in the mood so she cast him a really annoyed stare. Tony
shrugged innocently.
“What? I’m just happy – really happy…” he slid his gaze all over her body “to
see you again and Bruce will be thrilled.”
“I’m sure he needs that…” she said pointedly. “But I want it to be a surprise
so you won’t say anything to him.”
“Aye, Aye, Ma’am!” he saluted.
She turned to Superman.
“I came back because I left sure that Bruce would be safe with you two but I
was wrong.” She shook her head with disapproval. “I left him all healthy and I
find him in a clinic.”
Superman understood her feelings; he felt a bit guilty himself and from Stark’s
change in expression he knew that he felt the same.
“His wounds are superficial; nothing serious” he hurried to inform to reassure
her but her eyes were scolding and his mouth stayed agape.
“Nobody should wound Bruce ever again, even superficially!” she grinded her
teeth and Tony saw in her face the horror from witnessing his friend’s
tortures.
She was right, Superman thought and watched the girl strutting to the ledge of
the rooftop to look at the street bellow. Tony approached her.
“I was tricked to leave Gotham for an emergency otherwise I would never have
left him unguarded while not in armor” he said seriously. “But Bruce knew what
he was doing the whole time; he was acting to not let his secret slip.”
“Apparently, counting on you to intervene the crucial moment…” she pointed
casting him a sharp stare.
Tony purged his lips and nodded.
“Thankfully, Superman was there” he gestured to him who had stayed a bit far
from them.
“A grind, I’m sure…” she snorted the hints quite clear and Clark blushed.
“I had to carry Joker all the way to MCU!” he protested.
“Ouch!” she exclaimed sympathetically. “That must have hurt, handsome!” her
voice became gloomy although sexy. “The fact is that Bruce played the weak but
his suffering was true…” her eyes pierced them “Now I understand that he really
needs me as a bodyguard.” She shook her head. “Sorry, boys: you’re unqualified
for the job…”
Tony catching the meaning regarded her with his eyebrow lifted smartly. He
pouted his lips.
“What should I do to have you as my bodyguard too?”
“Take a nap, honey!”
And with a playful wink she somersaulted to the void to land on a balcony rail
and then with an elegant flip that would make jealous many professionals set
her heels on the alley under the building. She stretched graciously her
tempting body and yanked her long ponytail; then she turned her head upwards
and kissing her fingers blew a kiss to her two male admirers.
“Hot stuff!” Tony licked his lips grabbing the kiss and bringing it to his
mouth. “If only I had met her some months ago!”
Superman laughed and took off.
 
Tony opened the door to Bruce’s room in the clinic with the purpose to berate
him for having sneaked out. However the spectacle of his friend in a hospital
gown sat in his bed with a laptop in front of him and his fingers flying over
the keyboard was so outrageous that he laughed amused under Bruce’s stare.
“What’s so funny, veteran?”
“You” he answered and jumped on the chair beside the bed.
Bruce looked hopelessly at the dotted gown.
“It’s awful!”
Tony crossed his arms and nodded with his eyebrow raised.
“So much that I’d prefer to walk stark naked.”
“In a hospital?”
Tony purged his lips and blinked.
“I always believed that nurses are the hardest working girls in the country so
they deserve a reward.”
Bruce laughed.
“And what would Pepper say?”
Tony shrugged and tilted his head to the side.
“She knows that I’m a philanthropist through and through…”
Bruce closed his eyes and continued laughing.
“You’re unbelievable, Tony…” he shook his head.
Tony focused his suddenly serious eyes on his friend.
“No; you’re the unbelievable, sneaking out of the clinic to patrol the city”
his voice wasn’t playful.
The younger man stopped and looked at Tony inquiringly.
“Superman kept an eye on Gotham as I did which was unnecessary since the Batman
was OUT.”
“I should be the irritated that you messed around with my city” he growled.
But Tony raised his index finger warning.
“Don’t push it, little guy…” Bruce snorted and Tony continued. “I stopped to
thank Superman for today…”
Bruce chuckled interrupting him.
“So he’s not ‘The UFO’ anymore, huh?”
Tony didn’t buy and kept the same stern stare.
“He’s so perfectly tuned to you that even though your armor makes your vitals
undetectable he knew that you weren’t in the clinic but neither you were in
danger. He told me that Batman had a prolific night.”
Bruce sighed for Clark’s bond to him which was lethal for the Man of Steel
while he thought it was something good.
“Fine, fine. I was out but they put me in bed from eight o’ clock: who sleeps
so early?” Tony watched him smirking, his expression saying that he wasn’t
fooled. “And I needed to be out to convince once and for all Fury that Bruce
Wayne isn’t the Batman.”
Tony shook his head in irritation.
“Fuck that dork, Bruce! He is not in Gotham anymore; I kicked him out myself.
And I’ll walk out of the S.H.I.E.L.D.”
“He’ll learn the news about Batman. But you shouldn’t haste to leave the
Avengers; you love to be part of a team.”
Tony grimaced.
“What I love is to be the center of attention not necessarily the part of a
team. And if I want a team I can work with you.”
“But you won’t be the center of attention…” Bruce smirked and Tony laughed
shaking his index finger to his friend. “Give it a second, cooler thought
before deciding: you’ll be able to watch S.H.I.E.L.D. and do what you enjoy.”
Tony shrugged; maybe he was right, he enjoyed being an Avenger.
“You could have waited for me;” he said “to be close just in case.”
Bruce rolled his eyes.
“Ironman accompanying Batman in his patrol? It’d be like screaming ‘Bruce Wayne
is Batman and his friend looks after him’!” he lowered a bit his voice. “And I
didn’t want to stay here anymore…”
Tony lowered his eyes; he knew what Bruce meant: medical examinations are not
pleasant to anyone more so to someone whose body was for years used like a sex
object without any respect or sensitivity for his needs and his tender age.
Also, he was certain that Leslie would want to know if Bruce was contaminated
with sexual transmitted diseases; those bastards of course didn’t care to use a
condom to protect their victim… And these tests required samples from Bruce’s
private areas. Shit!
He scratched his nose to justify the brief closing of his eyes. When he opened
his eyes to the knowing gaze of Bruce he recruited his playful manner.
“Your appointment was for tomorrow; how Leslie coaxed you into doing it
earlier?”
“I still have some exams for tomorrow. But she told me that if I walked out
just three hours after the assault’s shock my entire scheme would be wasted
because Fury would have understood that I’m not as weak as I seemed back in the
office; not to mention the impression I’d have made to the officers and the
media. On the other hand, if they put me under those tests Fury would be
persuaded that I’m a fragile victim.”
Tony was laughing amused, his eyes on the verge of tears causing Bruce’s
rolling of the eyes.
“That’s to say that she used your own plot against you!” he roared in laughter.
“It’s so funny! She’s wicked!”
Bruce nodded.
“I told her the same thing” he didn’t laugh.
“Imagine Leslie going rogue one day…” Tony continued still laughing. “And
having Alfred as her sidekick…”
“It’ll be the doomsday…”
Tony wiped the tear and leaned towards his friend.
“And how did you escape the Gestapo?”
 Without stopping the typing Bruce looked Tony.
“I saw at the nurse station that Leslie visits the patients at eight o’clock
and return to her office at ten – so that gave me two hours.”
“And Alfred?”
“I told him that I had a desire for some fresh cinnamon biscuits and he
returned to the Manor to bake them.”
Tony shook his head disapprovingly.
“Poor Al! You’re the wicked, little guy! You’re taking advantage of his craving
to spoil you…”
Bruce pressed his lips.
“I know…”
Tony patted his bandaged hand.
“Tell me something: how you made it? Don’t tell me you crossed the clinic with
the gown? And where did you find the armor? And not only today; I mean you were
Batman even under Falcone’s and Ra’s’ scrutiny… ”
Bruce stopped abruptly and stared at Tony.
“I never told you, huh?”
The older man smiled.
“We had so much to tell…”
“Through the underground.”
“The sewers?”
Bruce shook his head negatively.
“Under the sewers exists an entire system of caverns; a whole secret world. I
discovered it after watching several times the bats leaving my cell and
returning from a burrow. I was 11 or 12 years old then and I followed the bats.
Anyway… after using that secret world for years to temporarily escape Falcone
and the others, I had a detailed map of the Gotham’s insides and I used it to
find Alfred and then Lucius and then to make Batman’s raids. Today I used the
cave under the clinic – my first center of operations” he smiled. “I still have
my first armor there and that laptop.”
Tony looked him awed and held his hand.
“A real bat, then… The caves the only world where you could find refuge.”
Bruce smiled.
“You taught me not be afraid of the bats…”
Tony sniffed moved and to escape looked at the screen.
“What’s this?”
“Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital in Boston” Tony hearing this instantly
understood and purged his lips.
“Bruce… Leave it; Jack Napier is dead. Joker is in custody and police’s
interrogation will fill the blanks. Joker and Napier is not the same person;
the DNA proved it.”
“I know, Tony, but the issue is that Napier’s face from his last interview
doesn’t match the dead man’s while it matches Joker’s face.”
Tony tilted his head lifting his eyebrows.
“The face pattern recognition is not a 100% accurate method…’’
“Yes, but it gives clues and drives me to search more: Joker wants me to
believe that he isn’t Jack Napier.”
“But he isn’t; the DNA proved it.”
Bruce shook his head.
“That doesn’t mean that I should stop researching.” He pointed at the screen.
“This is the clinic where Napier where admitted voluntarily for his alcoholism
and… searching the backgrounds of the thugs Joker brought with him in Gotham I
found that those men were inpatients to the same clinic – at the psychiatry
sector part of which is the addiction rehab facility” he cast his eyes to
Tony’s furrowed brows. “Very convenient, don’t you think? And’’ he pointed
“Rachel Dawes studied in Harvard and the Spaulding Hospital is the official
teaching hospital of Harvard.”
Tony rubbed his forehead.
“Let me remind you that she studied Law and not Medicine?” he hurried to catch
Bruce’s reply “So Joker drew his first henchmen from the clinic where Jackie
was treated and you believe that this indicates that Joker is the same person
with Napier…”
Bruce’s eyes were lost to the imposing building of the hospital.
“I just say that the key to the mystery is hidden there and I’ll go there as
soon as I leave this clinic.”
Tony tipped his fingers on the nightstand deep in thought. Bruce was right; the
case shouldn’t close before everything was clear. He didn’t believe that Jack
Napier he knew was Joker yet Joker murdered him so he wanted anything
concerning his death and his killer to be revealed.
“And” Bruce continued “I read some interesting things about Dagget’s mine in
which Luthor invested. The new government of Tanzania wanted initially to
cancel the deal with Dagget and took the mines from him– that happened before
Luthor closed the deal with him – but some days prior to the signing of the
deal between the two, government’s objections stopped and Dagget’s ownership of
the mines was secured.”
Tony sighed and ruffled his hair.
“To get this straight: in the last hour you beat to a pulp and busted a handful
of robbers, you saved a girl from rape AND you found all these? I must see the
fuels you use…” he shook his head in disbelief.
“Actually, I read all these to Clark Kent’s article…” he said indifferent yet
keeping his eyes away from Tony’s smart gaze. “He had already investigated the
deal… However what Clark didn’t” he realized that he used only Clark’s name “I
mean Clark Kent” Tony rolled his eyes “what he didn’t know is that the
government changed its initial decision due to the interference of one
person.’’
Tony straightened his posture and leaned towards Bruce interested.
“Com’ on, buddy; fascinate me…”
Bruce snorted.
“There is a person with great influence to the Tanzanian government. She is the
president of a foundation very active in charities and the restoring of the
most impoverished areas of the country where Dagget’s mines are; also, it is
rumored that her funds helped the government won the 2010 elections. Local
journalists condemned the government’s changing of decision and the fact that
they succumbed to that woman’s wish.”
Tony nodded, an eyebrow lifted.
“Miranda Tate.”
Bruce nodded smiling in a tight line.
“So she is really an ally to Luthor, Dagget and Stane against us…” Tony pouted
his lips “And I thought that I was irresistible to women… what a blow! And all
these happen before the true date of her factory’s supposed sale to Luthor?”
Bruce made an affirmative sound keeping his eyes on the screen.
“What troubles me is whether this woman works for herself or on behalf of
something greater…” he rubbed his fingers on his mouth irritating the small cut
in the corner of his lips.
Tony furrowed his brows.
“What ‘greater’? What do you suspect?”
Bruce turned to him.
“I need to search in the encrypted files I stole from the League…”
“Ow! You believe that this broad is a member of the League of Shadows? And that
those lunatics are after you?!” he couldn’t hide the shuddering from his voice.
The younger man realized his friend’s panic and hurried to reassure him.
“I don’t believe anything; is just that the League had many institutions like
that in African countries in order to manipulate the governments and the
developments there. So I must find out if Tanzania was among those countries
and which institution was the front for the League there.”
“Shit!” Tony exclaimed and hit the nightstand. “Only three months have passed,
damn it! How can they be reorganized and plotting already?! And with our
enemies!” he lowered his voice. “And after you again…” he pressed his lips and
shook his head.
Bruce waited till Tony’s outburst subsided.
“It’s not sure; just an assumption. Besides the odds are better for us now.”
But Tony didn’t want those lunatics even thinking about Bruce and only the
suspicion of their rapid reorganization was something ominous. Still he decided
to lighten the mood.
“And how you read all these articles? You speak – what’s their language? –
swahili?”
Bruce laughed and his laugh was enough to soothe Tony managing to erase the
League, at least for a second.
“Nah… Besides some of the articles were in English, the second official
language of the country. But some of the juicier were in Swahili.”
“So? Don’t tell me Google Translator…” he made an entire rolling of the head.
“You’d have understood more in Swahili.”
The younger man winked.
“WE Meta - Phrase 1.0.”
Tony narrowed his eyes.
“And what’s that?”
“A new application for every kind of processor Wayne Enterprises made; it gives
the best quality of translation, almost as if you had a personal translator.”
The older man crossed his arms, frowning.
“I’m officially in-sulted! You didn’t say anything! Are you plotting a coup to
banish me from the board?”
He shook his head amused.
“Lucius will announce it officially at the next board’s meeting. Sorry for not
mentioning but the last days were crazy.”
Tony smiled.
“Okay, buddy; I’m kidding. Don’t you think that you should hide that laptop
now? Alfred must be here soon…”
“Indeed, Master Anthony…” a nonchalant voice remarked and Tony lolled his head
backwards to see Alfred.
“If I were in this room, I would want people to knock on the door before
entering, Al.”
Alfred approached confidently carrying a pick nick basket.
“If you were in this room, sir, I” he stressed the ‘I’, “would want to knock on
the door to not find myself in front of…inappropriate situations” he raised his
eyebrows pointedly and placed the basket on the floor.
Tony scratched his head and purged his lips.
“Oi! Pepper told you about that time at the Malibu General hospital with those
three naked nurses on my bed…”
Bruce laughed loudly and almost choked in his effort to stop when Alfred cast
him a stern gaze. The butler closed the laptop and took it from his young
master.
“I believe the time I gave you, baking the biscuits you requested” he coughed
“and those for the kids of the Haven’s pension was enough for you to finish
your work.”
Bruce cast a gaze to Tony saying that Alfred always knows everything.
“Alfred, you made biscuits for the kids?” he asked his butler who took the
porcelain lid from the plate and offered the biscuits to the two men.
“Vanilla biscuits because some of the children are allergic to cinnamon.”
Bruce took a bite and Tony gulped one biscuit at once moaning.
“I love you, Al!” he exclaimed.
Alfred lifted an eyebrow.
“I know, sir; that’s why you torture me…”
“They’re delicious, Alfred, as always” Bruce said.
“Thank you, sir;” he uncorked the thermos and divided the milk to the glasses
he brought with him.
“You brought milk and glasses from the Manor?!” Tony exclaimed amused. “You
know, the clinic has an excellent cafeteria…” Bruce’s sign to shut up came too
late.
Alfred cast him a contemptuous glance and gave Bruce the glass of milk,
purposely avoiding answering Tony who rose from the chair and hugged the old
butler.
“Com’ on, Al… You know that I don’t compare your talents with a cafeteria but
it’s only milk, don’t tell me that you just milked the Wayne cow!”
Bruce’s eyes now were desperate as he pierced his friend – you don’t joke with
Alfred’s butler duties! He turned to Alfred who although amused he kept his
cold, insulted expression, suppressing his smile.
“Don’t mind him, Alfred; he is a brutal American billionaire playboy. He knows
nothing about the noble, loyal, self sacrificing British butler.”
Alfred cast an appraising glance at Tony who ruffled his hair uncomfortably. He
raised his eyebrows.
“Indeed, Master Bruce; so I’ll manifest my nobility once again by forgiving
him.” He caught Bruce’s wink to his friend. “Now, sir, it’s time for you to
rest.”
Bruce nodded.
“As a matter of fact, I feel a bit tired…” he admitted.
Tony settled in the chair.
“I’ll be here.”
Alfred who fixed the beddings, muffling Bruce looked exasperated at Tony.
“No, Master Anthony, you’ll go to sleep too and I’ll stay. First, because I
don’t trust you with Master Bruce” Tony widened his eyes and pouted affronted
“and second because you need your rest too.”
Bruce stared at his friend.
“He is right, Tony; I’m fine, you should rest.”
Tony erased the playfulness and squeezed his friend’s shoulder.
“I’ll sleep in one of the guest rooms of the clinic” he turned to Alfred. “In a
couple of hours call me to replace you” he patted the butler on the back “you
need rest, too.”
When Tony cast a last glance to Bruce as he was ready to step out of the room,
his friend was already sleeping exhausted. He smiled.
“Goodnight, Al.”
“The same to you, sir.”
 
Ra’s had come himself to get him from Chill; he was leading him gently through
the building. He was coming there for a couple of months now, since he met the
lion-like man and Falcone agreed to give him for training, and it was enough to
realize that they weren’t going to the training room.
They descended the stair to the basement; a rather cold and dark basement,
which made him shiver. He didn’t say anything neither looked at his master who
had his hand around his shoulders yet Ra’s figured out his uneasiness.
“Don’t be afraid, Bruce” he whispered.
They stopped before a metallic door and Ra’s pushed him gently in. It was a
gargantuan room with absolutely nothing in it except for some candles in
sockets scattered to the walls unable to crack effectively the darkness of the
space. He looked apprehensively around him; Ubu was there too, tossing some
seeds to a silver ancient looking urn adorned with strange designs, causing a
massive cloud of choking yet intoxicating smoke to flood the room.
Ra’s touched him softly on the shoulder to stop. At his feet lay a mass of
black silk and ropes; his breath was caught and he felt his heart kicking while
his newly healed arm inside its sling throbbed. He wanted to run away but his
new master caressed his hair soothingly.
“It’s alright, child.”
His new master took his hand out of the sling and tossed the sling to the
floor. Then he began stripping him gently until the cold of the room pierced
his completely naked body; he was shaking from cold and fear but he didn’t dare
to say anything.
He felt Ra’s’ mighty hands grabbing his shoulders and his knees heaving him
bridal style to lay him flat on the cold stone floor. He made to rise against
everything he had learnt all these years but Ra’s put his hand on his chest and
gently still resolutely pushed him back. His grey eyes were benevolent yet he
felt chills.
The older man took his hands, wrapped the rope around each of his wrists and
then brought one wrist upon the other, binding them tight together with the
same rope.
“Please, sir” his eyes searched Ra’s’ “I’ll do whatever you want; don’t tie
me…”
“Falcone ties you all the time…” he snapped and stretched the boy’s arms above
his head on the floor.
He attached the rope to a metal ring protruding from the stones of the wall
while Bruce gasped from the pain in his until recently crippled hand. He was
too scared to say anything, just watched Al Ghul going to his legs and wrapping
tightly a rope to each of his ankles. Then, he bent his legs slightly leaving
his thighs spread and attached each rope loosely to the metal rings in the two
corners of the room.
His feet touched flat the cold floor and the rope although loose didn’t allow
him to change his exposing position. He focused his eyes on the impressive
posture of the erect Ra’s Al Ghul who inspected his work on the completely
naked body at the floor.
“Ubu…” he called softly and the tower of a man approached holding a cup as odd
looking as the urn, kneeling at the side of Bruce’s head.
He brought the cup’s rim to his mouth and he could smell the bizarre scent and
see the muddy looking brew. Ubu touched the rim to his lips but he refused to
drink it causing the angry and warning glare of his master. He shyly sipped the
brew and it burned his insides through his stomach; he writhed in his bounds
and Ubu waited for him to calm down to force him to drink the rest. He felt icy
cold now and sobbed before a forced, numbing relaxation paralyzed him.
Ubu cast him a cold look before leaving him yet he thought that he saw sympathy
in the man’s expressionless eyes.
Ra’s gathered in his forearm the black silk and squatted; he ran his fingers
through Bruce’s stretched cold torso and then he threw the fabric over his body
covering his torso and his hip.
Bruce stared  at him puzzled, shivering from cold and fear, the smoke filling
the room bringing him tears.
Ra’s pulled from his pocket a black silken strap and blindfolded him.
“Please…” he whispered his voice hoarse from the brew that boiled in his
stomach and the smoke that invaded every pore of his body.
Ra’s rose and he heard the door shut and locked. He was alone, he couldn’t see
anything and his body was trembling uncontrollably as much as his bounds
permitted him. Maybe it was part of his training…he let the thought try to
soothe him. Yet the brew and the smoke nauseated him and made his head dizzy…
And he wanted to get away from there now, his heart kicking his ribs causing
him pain. He must leave now but his bounds were tight enough, his hand ached
horribly and the numbness became heavy as his breaths.
Suddenly, he knew that he wasn’t alone in the enormous room… He hadn’t heard
any door opening, he couldn’t hear any sound of breath only a hissing like
clothe slithering to the stone… Cold sweat flooded his entire body… It was only
part of his training, he kept telling himself; there must be a secret door from
where he or she entered and as Ra’s he or she could mute his breath.
He heard the hissing nearing him and tried to keep his calm but he was rasping.
He heard fabric dropping to the stone and felt the silk being removed from his
body, freezing him. Something cut the blindfold over his nose and his eyes were
free.
Two yellow blindingly bright eyes with blood colored slits were regarding him
narrowing his entire vision into those bizarre eyes. His chest was heaving
violently; his head crying in pain whenever he attempted to think. He was
scared, he was panicked but he had his eyes glued in those eyes.
Suddenly he could see something like a smirk, two plump lips but nothing else.
And then his visitor began making strange sounds like metal hitting metal. But
he could understand what he was ‘saying’.
“I know you, human child. I have seen you many times wandering the caverns.
Small children shouldn’t wander the Earth’s guts: many odd creatures lurk
there… watching… waiting…”
His visitor roared and he watched a strange body rising over him: it was human-
like, at least 8’ tall but… it was transparent; he could see the room through
it yet he discerned its outline and the lines of its muscles which were huge
and perfect and couldn’t be human – it must be male… It was male… Bruce
shuddered: he had seen adult men naked but the length between the outlined legs
panicked him.
The creature laughed as if he had read his terror and the transparency was
replaced by the colors of the caverns he wandered and then the yellow eyes
exploded and the creature’s body began changing colors always shining like a
gemstone: ruby, emerald, sapphire, amethyst, citrine, blue topaz… It was
beautiful! Bruce’s eyes were mesmerized… and then the male body took the color
of graphite, his enormous, perfect muscles glowing.
He saw the creature lowering above him to straddle his tiny body, his monstrous
length touching his belly, freezing and burning him at the same time. The
creature’s giant hands cupped his face and lifted his head; his fingers were
too long and thin ending to black nails at least 4’’ which shone from sharpness
and he waited to be slashed at any moment.
However the blade-nails only caressed him impossibly soft and all of a sudden
he could see the face and not only the eyes. He was beautiful in a creepy way.
His face was almost square covered with facial hair while his nose was only two
nostrils fuming smoke and his lips were plump and heart shaped. He didn’t have
any hair on his head only small silver spikes leading to two straight ivory
horns on his temples.
His blood became icy and the thought of this being only a disguised trainer ran
away; he knew it wasn’t a human.
“I know who you are…” the same metal on metal sound filled the room but he
heard the meaning inside his mind. “Your parents are with me…”
He was scared; he was at the mercy of something… horrific but he couldn’t stand
hearing that for his parents. He tried to take his head from the creature’s
hands though his body was paralyzed. He had his eyes locked with the creature’s
although he knew that he shouldn’t yet he couldn’t let go.
“No!” he protested “My parents are not with you; they’re angels in Heaven…”
tears filled his eyes and his voice.
The creature smiled and it was a sweet, sarcastic smile laced with velvety
fleshy lips.
“I may be an angel too, human child…” he told slyly.
“You’re a demon…” he answered but he failed to persuade his eyes to stop
staring him right in the eye.
His laughter was like the roaring of a waterfall; he tightened his hold on
Bruce’s face.
“What a clever boy you are… On the other hand, maybe it’s the horns… You are
right, Bruce; I don’t have your parents… But I have you!” he brushed tenderly
his cheeks freezing and burning him. “Your little soul was cast into my flames
the first time Chill fucked you and from then it is burning every day, every
hour, every minute…” his odd tongue licked Bruce’s lips and it was like an ice
cube with acid touching his skin. “I love it when little angels are given to
me…”
His teary eyes hardened captured into the bright yellow.
“I’m not…” he whispered desperately.
“You’re special, child” he moaned and he felt the monstrous length heavier on
his flat belly. “You’re looking me in the eye and this is bad… Humans shouldn’t
do that and they don’t: except than you…’’ he averted his eyes yet the creature
tightened his grip and forced him to look again. “Sapphire and emerald in your
eyes…” he saw the yellow of the creature’s eyes becoming sapphire blue and then
emerald green mirroring his own eyes. “Like the rarest star sapphire no human
will ever see…”
He was crying now as his heart was beating fast with terror and his body was
icy cold but sweaty simultaneously. He tried to move his hands yet the bound
was too harsh, grazing him and his crippled arm pained. He sobbed with despair;
he wanted to scream but his throat was burning.
“Ra’s didn’t teach you how to escape your bounds?” Bruce closed his eyes, the
touch of the creature’s hands on his face was unbearable. “Open your eyes,
Bruce…” he didn’t want to obey yet he did. “So beautiful! So unique! I see you
petting the bats…No one pets the bats, everyone hates them but you love them
and they love you…My little bat!”
Bruce saw the blood retinas shaping into a bat with spread wings.
“Your soul was given to me years ago… Now I’ll receive your body, as well…”
Fiery lips kissed violently his cheek to end up swallowing his mouth, tasting
his lips, his facial hair piercing his tender flesh while his hands massaged
roughly his locks. He felt as if an entire building fell on his body when the
creature lay upon him rubbing his enormous body on his tiny one. Bruce was
cold, his blood dragging in his veins making his heart suffer.
Monstrous hands fisted his hair and yanked his head downwards projecting his
throat; the mouth slid the entire length of his neck leaving saliva that burned
like boiling water and he screamed. The yellow eyes pierced his.
“I’ll feast on your body…” he growled.
He was petrified as the creature’s length became like stone already erect while
the demon was biting his throat, holding his torso in an iron embrace to shake
him along with his own body on the floor. The stone of the floor was wounding
his back and the load on him was halting his breaths.
The creature sniffed muffled in his small chest and the boy cried; it was hot,
unbearably hot and the hotness enveloped his erect from the stretching nipple.
He closed his eyes hopelessly as the acid saliva soaked his nipple, burning the
tender flesh; he yelled when he felt a second mouth doing the same
simultaneously to his other nipple while the demon’s hands brushed possessively
his back.
“Stop…” he whined as the burning in his nipples continued.
But then fangs pierced his bony breasts and the creature began sucking his
nipples as the fangs went deeper; he was sucking with a strength that could
crack a rock, as if he expected to milk him. His back was rampaged as the hands
roamed him greedily…and then his thighs were grabbed viciously and he was
spread beyond his limits, his torso being felt crudely by another pair of
hands. The creature’s length hit his opening and pushed to fit but Bruce knew
that it was impossible; he couldn’t contain it, it was wider than anything
Falcone forced him to take.
“Please…” he whined as the second pair of hands squeezed his breasts and the
creature sucked once again, causing the gushing of fluids and blood while he
pushed more his opening ripping it. “Please…” he screamed.
He felt a small relief in his breasts and saw the two heads of the demon
looking him sarcastic.
“You ask mercy from a demon where you didn’t get it from humans?” he snorted
the hot smoke from his nostrils causing more sweat to his face.
Both pairs of hands were clutching now his trembling thighs spreading them more
keeping his aching opening still for his member and bringing his body with
force to crash on the head of his stony organ, steadily tearing till the edge
was in.
Bruce’s head were lolled backwards, jolting uncontrollably on his bitten neck
as his small body was filled with stone. He convulsed desperately when the
creature thrust the entire length at once his baby cry piercing the cold room;
his insides were demolished and his blood rushed to his opening and then to his
legs and the floor.
He was to die, he realized, as the incredible force began thrusting in him
frantic and deep, so deep that was ruining everything inside him. He couldn’t
breathe, his heart was beating desperately fast and he pained…he pained so much
that he wanted to die. He yelled, he yelled but the demon fastened his pace,
the canon inside him digging, grinding him, the one pair of the demon’s hands
bringing his bound ankles behind the demon’s waist, a chain instantly sticking
them together, ankle upon ankle. The creature’s other hands grabbed his
shoulders and lifted his body to give more impetus to his thrusts, as both his
mouths savored Bruce’s covered in blood neck, his horns grazing his upturned
jaw.
“Mom!” Bruce screamed and he immediately hated himself for that.
“She didn’t make a lot the last time you called her, eh, Bruce?”
His eyes were teary as his anus and his breasts were flooded with blood but he
was staring at the creature’s eyes. He whined when an impossibly large tongue
licked his arched torso from his breasts to his navel, gathering his fluids and
burning him. He yelled and jerked, scratching more his wrists on the rope, when
he felt a hot, wet mouth swallowing his genitals; a salivating tongue
slithering over his small testicles and another one wrapping his penis and
caressing incredibly fast and pleasant. He whimpered desperately.
“You like that, don’t you, Bruce?” the demon’s eyes captured his eyes even
though they had rolled back in their sockets. “From the first time, you like
it…” both tongues massaged his testicles and his penis, the fangs gently grazed
the sensitive flesh. “But you force yourself to feel only the pain because you
don’t want to admit that you’re a little slut… Pain or pleasure, child? I can
give both… What will be?”
Bruce looked at him.
“I don’t want…”
The yellow exploded and the tongue that was caressing his penis penetrated his
organ. He screamed as he felt it impaling his penis and then the mouth was
sucking him. His bound body writhed, his torso arched more from the pain and
the demon’s will…
And then, in an instant he was rolled, his face crashed to the stone, his
ankles still bound one upon another, with the difference that he was kneeled in
his own blood the demon still inside him thrusting. Hands were groping his
buttocks, the nails scrapping his flesh as other fingers penetrated his belly
button. He jerked from all the pain and dag his nails to the stone, whimpering
because he couldn’t scream.
He heard a creepy, hissing sound as when Falcone was lashing his belt in the
air to punish him and then it was pain, excruciating pain, death bringing pain
as a heavy, wide hard rubber crushed his back. He writhed sobbing causing the
demon’s length wounding him even more. The rubber wrapped around his neck and
yanked him upwards and he could see that it was a scaled tail.
He knew that every bone in his body was pulverized and his insides ripped and
ruined. He was dying and it was painful and then the demon squeezed his mouth
to open and kissed him; a long, compact tongue invading him clogging his larynx
and lengthening reaching his lungs… Eating him alive…
He felt an explosion inside him and lava burned his entire body; he wanted to
scream from the pain but he didn’t have air even to breathe… He closed his
eyes, his body loosening in the monstrous hands.
And then although he knew that he was dead felt hands laying him flat on the
floor, the most pain had left as the feeling of unstoppable blood loss and he
was calm and though his eyes were shut he saw the demon becoming transparent
again and leaning above him. A tender kiss was placed on his navel and then
something else: a small, stone which instantly shone brightly green
illuminating the entire enormous space.
He heard hurried steps, human steps and his limbs were untied. Hands, only two
hands embraced him and hoisted him and he cuddled in this warm but not burning
hug.
“Give him to me, Ubu’’ it was Ra’s who took him to his arms that were colder.
“Tell Falcone that the boy will stay with me today and tomorrow; nobody should
penetrate him for 24 hours.”
“As you wish, Master” Ubu left.
He was carried but he didn’t open his eyes; he was dead, he must be dead, he
wished to be dead. He was laid on a soft surface.
“You’re alive, Bruce; I knew you were special!” he could hear the smile and the
satisfaction in his voice: he had watched everything!
“You gave me to a demon!” he screamed struggling not to cry but he failed, he
still felt the pain and the terror and the burnings everywhere. “Why?” he
sobbed.
Ra’s wrapped his hand around his shaking shoulders and supported him to sit.
“You can’t understand now but you’re precious, child; I knew it but I needed to
be sure. And now it’s affirmed. You’re so special that Incubus left his seed
inside you. If you were a girl, you would be with a baby. But now your body
absorbed everything, every single drop” he smiled his eyes filled with greed.
“Your possibilities are vast and great!”
He showed him the small green glowing rock whose glow was interrupted by black
veins.
“And with that you’ll make us invincible…”
“No!” he yelled and forgetting his pain fled Ra’s and ran in the room, his
master chasing him.
His frenzied eyes stopped on a sword, he grabbed it and turned to Ra’s who
halted abruptly. Bruce was rasping.
“Leave that in its place, child” Ra’s said calmly to soothe him. “Katana is
very sharp, you could wound yourself…”
He shook his head negatively, wiping the tears from his eyes with his trembling
hand, the sword held unstably with his until recently crippled hand…
“No! You said that you’d help me” he protested weakly “I believed you…” his
voice broke “and you gave me to a demon…”
Ra’s made to rush to him to get the sword but he brought the shining blade to
his throat. The Demon’s Head paled seeing his plans sinking.
“No, child; don’t do that: you’re too precious to die!”
“I don’t want to serve your plans…” his voice was hoarse. “I want to… see my
parents again…”
The door opened and he panicked that they would catch him again and he slid the
blade over his neck. But Ra’s managed to catch his hand which was already
trembling from the pain and stop the blade before severing the entire neck. Yet
the carotid was already cut and blood spurted.
Ra’s hand pressed the bleeding slash while he embraced the collapsing body with
his other hand, crouching. He turned his sweaty face to Ubu.
“Bring the Lazarus Pit and add the Oblivion Serum; it’s better he forgets…”
He heard the echo of Ubu’s running feet and then a fabric pressing the deep
slash on his neck.
“You won’t die, Bruce; you can’t die…”
“Master Bruce! Please! Master Bruce, please wake up!”
He was hearing Alfred’s distant desperate voice yet he couldn’t decide if he
wanted to wake up.
 
***** Chapter 34 *****
Tony stepped in the Baker House’s foyer dancing and sending kisses to the
chatting girls scattered there; the girls giggled and began whispering, their
eyes gaping at his messy but attractive form. He was aware that his unbuttoned
shirt that exposed the bigger part of his well toned torso was irresistible to
girls especially when accompanied by his messy black hair.
It must be quite ahead the morning for the foyer to be so crowded. He shrugged:
who watches the watch?  He was dizzy; that was THE hangover but the last night
was worth it… or he thought it was. He winked to the juicy brunette at the lift
and entered, saluting her military style: maybe after the hangover he would
remember her name and corner her to the toilets – her breasts were quite the
must see in MIT campus…
He whistled the rhythm of the only song he remembered from last night… or
thought that remembered… Berny must have tampered with his drinks – the
motherfucker! – or it was that he had a go on every kind of booze Burny had on
stock,inanimate and animate…
He looked himself at the mirror wall of the lift… Holly shit! His white shirt
was drenched with sweat and wrinkled; it wasn’t just unbuttoned, it was ripped…
And the sucking marks with red lipstick outline in his chest and neck were the
perfect explanation, his askew tie unable to hide them. His stubble was wild as
his short hair but clean shaven wasn’t very popular with the strippers in
Boston. He was pale and with bags under his eyes but still a sexy motherfucker,
ready for action after a nap…
He laughed as his mind filled with shattered images from naked bodies writhing
under him on the benches, the sinks and… the fireplace? Who is so pervert to
get laid inside the fireplace?! He chuckled: at least it wasn’t lit… According
to the three different shapes and sizes of breasts he was seeing very clearly
in his mind, he shared the awkward places with different girls – nice! That’s
why he was so jubilant now… Ooops! Four tits under him and two navels and –
wow! – another two spectacularly big boobs rubbing his back while the pussy of
the same sweaty body rubbed his ass, when he thrust in the one under him,
sucking the nipples of the other…
He licked his lips… Tony, m’ boy, another orgy… Dull this time but you need
rest once in a while… In the fireplace, huh? Interesting… Maybe he asks his
professor to analyze this: how can four people fit in a fireplace… He chuckled,
imagining Dr. Fickley flushing even in his large white beard.
The lift stopped and Tony staggered out and to the corridor leading to his
humble room. He needed a shower: he sniffed his ridiculously expensive jacket
that was hanging loosely from his shoulder and grimaced; sweat, alcohol, many
different kinds of alcohol, cheap perfumes and his expensive one and…bodies. He
nodded: yup! He definitely needed a shower and to burn that jacket. And then a
nap… He stretched his body yawning, a nap to rest this made- to- offer-
pleasure body.
He unlocked the door with the student card and entered the room, taking his tie
off his collar and throwing it carelessly on the floor. He was staggering and
the drowsiness made him hit on the wall.
“Sorry, mate…” he laughed but his laughter froze when he saw the last man he
wanted to see glaring at him with contempt. “You must be kidding!” he rolled
his eyes, lolling his head backwards.
“You’re disgusting!” the older man growled, his upper lip twitching.
“Yada, yada, yada…” he exclaimed bored and approached his father. “How’s mom?”
“Look at yourself!” Howard Stark gestured to him and Tony regarded his body
lifting his eyebrow.
“This is called sexy, you know…” he chuckled and served himself bourbon from
his mini bar. “Do you want some?” the older man fumed and shook his head in
exasperation; Tony shrugged. “You see? I don’t forget the manners you taught
me…” he laughed and hiccupped.
His father stormed to him with his teeth gritted; he grabbed the ripped lapel
of his jacket and shook it.
“Drunk, filthy, you reek of…”
Tony nodded snorting waiting his father to say it.
“Sex! Wild sex! And ‘pickled’ is more appropriate.”
Howard Stark closed his eyes.
“You’re here to study and you attend rarely the classes. You’re wasted You
became a worthless punk!”
Tony was tired and fed up with this lecture.
“I don’t need the classes and the stupid professors” he pointed his index
finger to his naked chest. “Everyone knows that I’m a genius! My grades surpass
every nerd in the university and my inventions make those jerks who teach
goggle! I follow three different programs at the same time and I’m the top in
all! I’m already a legend here!”
Howard sighed.
“Which is very useful for attracting the strippers of Boston…” his voice was
heavy with irony.“I know that you bought an apartment there where you spent
most of your time while you have that room here.”
Tony jumped over the armchair’s back and sank in the soft seat.
“You became stingy now?” he snapped and lit a pot. “MIT needs some funding but
that room doesn’t meet my standards…”
His father approached him, his thick eyebrows furrowed.
“No spacious enough to contain your strippers?”
Tony gulped his bourbon making a sound of pleasure.
“Actually, in the last orgy starred hookers…” he hiccupped and laughed sinking
his head at the armchair’s back. “It’s called student life, dad… And you must
seize the day…” he mimicked Robin Williams’ voice in the ‘Dead Poets Society’.
“You see? I’m a philosopher scientist!”
“You’re an idiot!” Howard hissed and Tony clenched his teeth and straightened
at the armchair, glaring at his father. “The only reason you’re not expelled
from the MIT is that you’re a genius…”
“And your son, huh?” he snorted.
Howard leaned towards him trapping his son by holding both of the chair’s arms.
“You’re 18 years old, Tony; you could have got your degrees already and being
focused on our Industries…”
“Bo-ri-ng…” Tony said to his father’s face and Howard made a grimace of disgust
from his son’s foul breath, taking his distance.
Howard stretched his posture, his back on Tony and inhaled.
“You weren’t like that…” he closed his eyes. “I mean you were always cheerful
and bouncy but you always had focus… You always had purpose in your life… Is it
because of that boy, isn’t it?”
The hangover left abruptly Tony leaving a painful solemnity. He grabbed his
head with both hands; not that…
Howard not receiving an answer from Tony knew that had hit the nail. He nodded.
“Your decadence began four years ago when Waynes and their son died. You’re
wasting yourself from then, spiraling downwards” he turned to face his still
sat son; his lips were purged in anger. “This is outrageous! This is stupid!
Ruining your life for a kid you barely knew…” he tried to be gentle but Tony
didn’t buy that and Howard Stark was aware of that; his son’s state was a stab
to his heart and bride: gossip magazines and shows disgracing daily the name of
Stark with another orgy or scandal Tony did. “Damn that kid!” he exclaimed.
Tony felt the blood rushing to his head; he had had enough: he didn’t bother
about old Howard scowling and cursing him but not Bruce. Nobody should speak
about Bruce. Especially, like this. His face was flushed; probably the alcohol
was also to blame. He jumped from the armchair and grabbed his father from the
lapels almost heaving him; his face was close to his father’s, his eyes shining
madly.
“Don’t you dare curse Bruce!” he hissed between his gritted teeth.
Howard was flabbergasted, his eyes widened.
“That is then! You still remember that kid and destroy your life for him!” he
was shocked and affronted; he furrowed his brows. “For pity’s sake, Anthony;
the boy died four years ago, forget him. He is gone, nothing is left of him.”
But Tony was feeling the knife twisting in that deep wound he had in his chest
with the name of Bruce on. He tightened his hold on his father.
“Stop using him! Stop speaking about him, damn it!”
Howard’s eyes became hard, cruel like when little Tony was afraid of him.
“I wish I never had brought you with me in Gotham…” he shook his head in pity
“I couldn’t imagine that a genius like my son would fall for a stupid baby boy
and ruin his possibilities for his sake! Damn that boy!”
It was the second time he did it: he repeated his curse on Bruce! And his poor
friend’s body wasn’t even buried; his little soul wandering the earth without
rest but not coming to him the nights he whispered his name… His hand formed a
fist without even knowing.
Howard looked his son’s ready to attack hand with contempt.
“You’ll hit your father for a baby that died before you had the chance to fuck
him?” his snarky voice was pure poison, challenging his hand to crash into his
square jaw…
Tony jolted on the mattress. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. He was in one of
the guest rooms of Leslie’s clinic and he barely avoided landing on the floor;
he wasn’t used to ordinary sized beds.
Nice! He thought. It was his turn for flashbacks, now? You’re unbelievable,
Tony, m’ boy… At least, he hadn’t hit old Howard then: he remembered that…
Although drunk and distraught about his father’s cursing on Bruce he managed to
restrain himself; not that old Howard didn’t deserve it… Ugh! At least, from
that day Howard never spoke about Bruce again.
It was pitch dark in the room so he lit the light in his wrist watch to see the
hour and stood immediately. Of course good ol’ Al wouldn’t wake him up to
change shift but the loyal butler needed rest too.
He had slept with his clothes on for any case and looked exasperated at the
wrinkled state of his T-shirt; thank Goodness, he wore jeans and not pants. He
had to maintain his fame even in a clinic and at the late hours.
The corridor was brightly illuminated and he headed to Bruce’s room when the
most unexpected sight in the world hit his eyes: Alfred running, his face
flushed and his eyes desperate. That reaction could be caused only by one
reason: Bruce…
He rushed to him and halted him, shaking the old man to look at him.
“Oh! Master Anthony!” he was rasping.
“Alfred, calm down; what happened?”
Alfred closed his eyes and Tony understood that he berated himself; his cool
demeanor returned immediately but not in his deep blue eyes.
“It was one of those terrible bloody nightmares, sir… And I can’t wake him up!”
despair came back. “I’ll alert Leslie.”
“Why didn’t you press the alarm button?”
“Because I didn’t want every stranger goggling at Master Bruce in this state!”
Tony saw tears in Alfred’s eyes and he pressed his lips.
“Do you want me to go to Leslie?” he whispered.
“No, sir; I’ll go… Just go to him; I left him alone… Try to… to keep him…” he
couldn’t utter ‘alive’ and his rasping wasn’t the reason.
“I will, Al…” he nodded and patted the man’s upper arms before letting him go
and he ran to Bruce’s room.
He didn’t mean it but he burst into the room. It was in semi dark due to the
lit lamp of the nightstand and his eyes immediately fixed to the bed… Which was
empty! The beddings all tangled but Bruce nowhere…
“Fuck!” he spat, only one thing in his mind freezing him: League of Shadows.
 
Superman was in mid flight to Japan: he was patrolling Gotham when he sensed
not heard the vibrations of the beginning of an earthquake in the guts of the
Pacific Ocean near the Japanese coastline. He left Gotham not without
displeasure and rushed to Japan praying his flying ability won’t cause him any
trouble and his powers will be adequate for stopping the tsunami waves.
He was exhilarated because his flying was smooth, untroubled and he was already
showered by a shining midnight sun, seeing the restless ocean bellow and a
medium sized ship staggering dangerously. He felt fully charged and confidence
puffed up his chest; nobody would die today.
But then his heart gave a painful jerk and began beating frantic… He halted
abruptly dumbfounded; his heart never beat like this…except than when…Bruce’s
heart beat like that. His Star was scared, desperate and in pain: he could hear
clearly the beloved sound of his heart although he couldn’t hear anything else
from such distance. He was tuned with Bruce’s body and Bruce was suffering…
His body turned towards Gotham on its own accord; he should be in Gotham to
take the pain away from his Star. Clark closed his eyes: it was a flashback, he
could see the brain activity and after so many times he knew when Bruce was
experiencing a flashback. It was really horrific and he needed comfort but…but
if he left now, if he abandoned the people here there will be a terrible death
toll. And Bruce had Alfred and Dr. Thompkins and Stark.
Yet he felt the billions of his body cells screaming in protest and dragging
him towards his Star. And he wanted so much to run to him, to cuddle him, warm
him, caress him…
He heard the monstrous roaring of the angry ocean. No; Bruce would hate him
even more if he left now abandoning people to die.
He clenched his jaw and exerted his entire power of will to hush his thirsty
body and dived with the speed of a storm to the bulking up waters…
 
Tony ran the room like an idiot and halted abruptly realizing that; the room
was relatively small to conceal Bruce. He let his head loll to the side: he let
Bruce unprotected once again when he was vulnerable and his tormentors took him
again. There were police officers outside but these motherfuckers could easily
pass them. He yanked his head upwards inhaling with despair; this wasn’t
happening!
And then his eyes fell on the bathroom door. He ran there and heard what was
definitely someone puking disrupted by almost soundless sobs. A sense of dread
flooded him and made to open the door. It was locked…
“Bruce, it’s Tony! Please, buddy, open the door…” he knocked several times
without any answer.
He doubted that Bruce even heard him.
“Damn!”
He could easily break the door yet he didn’t want to startle his friend who was
undoubtedly in a state of shock. He activated the glove of his armor and
unlocked the door with the magnetic mechanism in his index finger. He opened
silently the door and walked inside.
He closed his eyes seeing Bruce kneeled before the toilet. He had hugged the
toilet and was slumped, his head jerking violently along with his entire body
to throw up everything in his stomach.
Tony crossed the small space and kneeled beside him, wrapping his arm around
his back rubbing soothingly. Yet Bruce didn’t give any sign of having
recognized him. Tony caressed his wet hair and looked inside the toilet: it
seemed that he had vomited the few biscuits and the milk first and he flushed
because the only thing he threw up now was transparent liquid. He must have
been in this position much.
Bruce was shaking without managing to stop the violent jerks that would
definitely soon lead him to spill blood. He was in a cloud; the toilet his
whole world that he clutched desperately.
Tony brought his second hand to embrace his friend’s bent form as gently as he
could. He made to detach him from the toilet and the floor; Bruce was cold from
the contact with those surfaces and that gown didn’t help.
The younger man feeling the force that wanted to pull him from the safety
raised his eyes to see but he couldn’t discern a face; he saw only the dull
blue glow from Tony’s arc reactor and terror grabbed him again: the demon
returned taking the glow of a blue topaz. And Tony saw that; his friend’s eyes
were exhausted, filled with tears and although focused they weren’t seeing
anything apart from a new horror.
“It’s Tony, Bruce; Com’ on, there’s nothing else in there to throw up…” he saw
a slight change in the sapphire-emerald irises. “Yes, little guy, it’s Tony;
remember your idiot friend?”
Bruce’s body convulsed violently and more transparent liquid burst from his
mouth this time with a low whine that made Tony’s heart break.
“That means you remember me…” he tried to encourage himself with self sarcasm.
“Enough, buddy, enough… Come now…”
He wrapped Bruce’s completely numb arm around his shoulder and heaved the weak
body, gritting his teeth. Thankfully, he was strong enough even without his
Ironman armor and thankfully Bruce had let go of the toilet either from
weakness or from recognizing him. His friend was trembling and his feet
couldn’t support himself.
“Lean on me, Bruce; this time I’m here…” he whispered the knot in his throat
swallowing his voice.
He led Bruce to the sink and the younger man writhed seeing his own reflection
on the mirror; he averted his gaze.
“Look at me, Bruce; please, look at your Tony…” the appalled eyes met Tony’s
face and the older man struggled to give a reassuring smile. “Are you with me?
Can you tell me my name?’’
Bruce inhaled making a rattling sound and nodded.
“Tony…”
Now, Tony’s smile was real.
“It seems that this became a tradition… once a month visiting the bathroom
together enriching the toilet’s content…”
Pain surged Bruce’s body from his anus to the hipbones and the waist to smash
his spine; it burned like hell and throbbed, making his body writhe and his
legs unable to support his body that shivered from the cold.
Tony hastened to hold tighter Bruce’s body from collapsing; he must be in pain
from the violent motions and that convulsing…
“Listen… We’ll rinse your mouth and then we’ll get to the room…” he opened the
faucet and washed Bruce’s mouth. “Open your mouth, buddy; you need to gargle…”
Bruce took the mouthwash in but he wasn’t in a state to gargle. Tony pursed his
lips.
“It doesn’t matter, Bruce…” he whispered – don’t cry now, Tony! He scowled
himself. “Just keep it inside and spit it… That’s… that’s perfect…”
He made him repeat the same three times and wiped his mouth with the towel
hanging there. Then, he gently began moving to the room supporting Bruce, who
realizing where he was and that Tony bore his weight struggled to lighten his
friend’s burden.
Tony pressed him softly and Bruce sat on the bed. He stared at his friend
shyly.
“Thank you, Tony” he said forcing his voice to be steady.
“Don’t mention it, buddy; Ironman is made of…well, iron…” he saw Bruce trying
to smile.
His friend’s face was sweaty as his body but he was cold at the same time and
Tony didn’t like that. He laid Bruce’s legs on the mattress; he was walking all
this time barefoot and his feet were two pieces of ice. His eyes stopped on his
gown that was soaked with sweat, vomit and… blood. Tony closed his eyes: all
these violent jerks had opened the stitches on his stomach. Thankfully, it
wasn’t too much so he could keep his calm.
“Bruce, we must take that gown off of you; is that alright?”
He nodded and rubbed his temple with the bandaged wound that throbbed.
Tony’s hands shook as he unbuttoned tenderly the gown that anyway didn’t hide
enough of Bruce’s breathtaking back side. He avoided staring his friend’s naked
parts and rolled the gown to Bruce’s arms and then removed it tossing the gown
to the floor. He wrapped Bruce’s body that trembled from cold and the
flashback’s leftovers in a sheet. His friend was breathing hard and he was
gazing at his own naked body.
“You need a bath but I don’t want to press you” he brushed his forehead.
“You’re freezing…” he stood and rushed to the small closet.
There were some blankets. He muffled Bruce with one of them; he had tried to
lay him flat on the mattress but he refused, staying at sitting position. His
pulse was racing.
“Leslie will be here at any moment and she’ll take care of everything…” he said
soothingly brushing some wet stray locks from Bruce’s eyebrows.
“Sorry, Tony…” his voice was hoarse. “I didn’t want to… scare you…” he brought
his eyes on Tony’s face but took them away rapidly.
Tony bit his lip; Bruce was death pale. He rubbed his friend’s back making
circles.
“Are you better now? Warmer?” Bruce nodded but Tony felt his face and he was
still cold. “Are you in pain?” he answered shaking his head in negation.
Tony sighed because he knew that Bruce despite his state of shock felt pain
since his left hand clutched unconsciously his stomach. He sat on the chair and
took Bruce’s hands in his.
“You want to tell me what you saw?” he searched Bruce’s eyes and the younger
man finally locked eyes with him.
“It was stupid…” he said closing his eyes and Tony tightened his hold. “A
stupid nightmare…I shouldn’t have reacted…like this…I made you and poor Alfred
worried…”
“Don’t think of us. It was a flashback?”
Bruce fisted more the blanket on his chest and lowered his eyes; Tony saw shame
on them and that was unacceptable.
“No…It was just a…silly nightmare…everything not real…just…just my mind mixing
the events of those days…” he tried to smile but his trembling was so intense
that this fine actor failed. “It’s…it’s ridiculous…really.”
“Then it’s no harm if you tell me?” he smiled in a tight line. “Tony needs some
laughter…” he tilted his head and made the puppy eyes, pouted his lips and
Bruce smiled relaxed. Com’ on, little guy, share the pain…I’m here…
However Bruce still didn’t want to talk; he believed that Tony was sick and
tired hearing the same things again and again, about bindings and rapes and… On
the other hand, maybe it was himself that was tired of speaking believing that
if those things remained buried inside him won’t make more harm at least to the
others. After all, what he saw was utter bullshit…
Tony’s eyes were insistent; his friend won’t let him escape without speaking.
“Well?” Tony asked after a minute of silence where he could hear Bruce’s
heartbeat. “Unless you don’t trust me…” he knew that was a sly hit but he had
to make his friend speak.
Bruce looked at Tony hurt; he trusted him, Tony was the only one that he
confided one of his flashbacks yet he had kept secret from him that he was
alive and he felt that sometimes this bit his friend still. So he bit his lips
and steeling himself began.
“It’s the same as always…” he tried to minimize the nightmare from the start.
“It was from the first months of Ra’s’ training. He led me to the basement
instead of the training room, he undressed me, tied me to the floor and… you
know the rest” he talked hastily, fast and left it there, hoping that Tony
would understand and wouldn’t insist on more.
“Ra’s raped you?” Tony asked gently; he didn’t want to torment Bruce into
giving details yet he knew that his friend wasn’t saying everything trying to
hide the crucial aspects. His assumption proved right when the younger man
closed his eyes.
“No…” he sighed. “In the dream, he and Ubu, one of my trainers, left the room
and then…” he inhaled “a demon they summoned came and…used me. And he...the
demon sneered at me that had seen me again in the caverns” Bruce rolled his
eyes wanting to ridicule what he said but Tony was dumbfounded. “You see why I
told you that it was a stupid nightmare?”
But Tony wasn’t sure; he was just looking at the bandaged hands of his friend,
shocked from what he had heard. A demon… He couldn’t jeer as Bruce, cold sweat
running his back.
“You sure it wasn’t a flashback?”
The younger man lolled his head on the side, his eyes deep with disbelief yet
Tony could discern the wetness tears had left and the hidden despair.
“Mercy, Tony! It was completely rubbish; I don’t remember anything like this…”
“You were… what? Fourteen years old?” Tony couldn’t share Bruce’s ‘lightness’.
“The shock could have erased the memory…”
“Bring the Oblivion Serum; it’s better if he forgets…” Bruce shuddered at the
echo of those words and he was aware that his friend’s hawk eyes didn’t miss
that.
“Your body reacted, still reacts, like it was a flashback” the older man
insisted and his face was so solemn and pale that Bruce was scared for him.
“The mind has infinite power over the body…” he answered seriously. “When the
mind believes something the body follows.”
Tony nodded a bit irritated.
“Ra’s Al Ghul’s teachings…”
“Yes, but science proved that in many cases; take the placebo effect and…”
Yet Tony didn’t have the patience. He grabbed his friend’s upper arms and shook
him, forcing their eyes to lock.
“Can you tell me that surely was only a nightmare and not a flashback?”
Bruce pressed his lips in a tight line, steeling his eyes and his voice.
“Joker spat something about he not being the first demon I saw and then came
the exams and the exhaustion and that’s how the dream was created; and I was
perched on a gargoyle tonight… Tony, you’re a scientist; you don’t believe in
angels and demons and mambo jumbo…”
He looked Bruce’s face.
“I didn’t; till I learnt about an angel that fell in the hands of a hoard of
demons…”
Bruce shook his head; his body was frozen and he couldn’t bear hearing that
from Tony.
“That’s…poetry, Tony. And I’m not an angel!” he raised his voice although his
teeth rattled. “Not now, not ever!”
Tony understood that his friend was distraught; he might be insisting on the
stupidity of the nightmare but his reactions despite his ability to disguise
them were contradicting him. However he wanted to make his friend’s heart beat
calmer.
“Okay, okay, little guy… What happened after they left the room?”
Bruce cast him a lopsided glance.
“If you want bizarre porn you can buy a DVD or search the net.”
But Tony wasn’t laughing so Bruce sighed and tightened his hold on the blanket
embracing his cold body.
“He fucked me, alright? He fucked me harder than any man had ever: he impaled
my body, breaking my bones and grinding my insides, he drank my blood and my
other fluids, he forced me to have in my mouth his tongue, choking me. He came
in me and his fluids burned me. I was dead but I could see him placing a rock
of kryptonite in my belly button causing the room to fill with greenish glow.”
Tony was hearing avidly and waited.
“And then he left and Ra’s took me away in another room and told me that…that I
was special and that the demon gave him the rock which would help him defeat
his enemies. And it was exactly like the kryptonite bullet we have; it had
black veins. And then I felt disgusted, fed up, tired, scared and I escaped
Ra’s’ hold and I took a katana and…” he stared at his friend’s widened eyes. “I
cut my carotid and there was blood spurting and Ra’s told Ubu to bring the
Lazarus Pit to…to revive me.”
Tony’s nails pierced his own hands.
“Lazarus Pit is the potion whose ingredients you gave Lucius…”
“It’s not a potion and it really heals severe injuries!” he protested the
disbelief. “It is the legendary Water of Immortality, created by Aristotle
himself; Aristotle was a philosopher and a scientist not a wizard.”
The older man didn’t want his friend more agitated and Lucius was actually
thrilled with the first tests of this medicine. So he nodded, after all he
didn’t intend to doubt the brew.
“If everything goes well, this medicine will restore Superman’s weakened
powers” Bruce continued, hope lacing his still trembling voice from the cold
all over his body. “And…and I think that they used the rock to enrich the
substance they applied…”
Tony rubbed his friend’s back to cause more warmth.
“The miraculous potion of Al Ghul proved real but you insist that your
nightmare wasn’t a flashback…”
Bruce’s heart gave a violent jolt and his eyes shone angrily and desperately at
the same time.
“You want me to believe and accept that Al Ghul summoned a demon to fuck me and
soak my body with his semen?! That I was raped not only by men but also by a
demon?!”
Leslie and Alfred who just opened the door stayed frozen gaping at Bruce who
realized first their presence and closed his mouth abruptly averting his eyes
from the newcomers.
Tony turned surprised and slapped himself; his apologetic gaze searched Bruce’s
eyes.
“Damn! I warned about knocking the fucking door!” he exclaimed and hurried to
make space for Leslie.
She was worried seeing Bruce deathly pale and muffled with a blanket; she took
the young man’s wrist to count his pulse and biting her lip lowered him to the
mattress and uncovered his chest to hear his heart with the stethoscope hanging
from her neck.
Bruce was barely restraining himself from jolting upright and he kept fuming,
trying to avoid Alfred’s eyes which were a mix of affection, worry and well
hidden horror from what he just heard. Tony had retreated to the small window
overlooking the Narrows.
“You had another flashback” Leslie said and her voice was steady like what she
heard hadn’t affected her.
“Just a stupid nightmare, for pity’s sake!” he exclaimed exasperated. “Stop,
Leslie; I’m fine! Let me stand!”
But she pressed him gently to stay flat.
“Your heart is arrhythmic; you’re controlling it, right?” her eyes were privy.
“Otherwise your pulse would be frantic; and you had a vomiting fit” she pointed
to the discarded gown. “And you are pale” she purposely avoided using ‘death’
“and frozen.”
“And his stitches are torn” Tony added because the blanket covered his friend’s
middle section.
Leslie nodded to him but Bruce scorned.
“I had a nightmare; some nightmares are really scary and it’s natural to have
all these. But I’m fine now.”
Leslie shook her head; oh, boy! Bruce was a really difficult patient,
experiencing unexplained hypothermia, trembling, manifesting arrhythmia, his
stitches torn and still protesting that he was fine! She sighed.
“You need a shower, young man” she hid her tiredness. “Only then your body
would be able to regain the normal temperature.”
“No, I don’t!” he was aware that sweat stuck on him and of course vomit and
blood but he felt secure inside the blanket and he wasn’t sure if his legs
would support him so soon.
“Alfred, will you help me?” Leslie ignored completely Bruce’s protest.
“Of course, Leslie.”
Tony jerked.
“I can do it; there’s no reason Al does it.”
Bruce rolled his eyes and taking advantage of the fact Leslie wasn’t pressing
him to the mattress, stood incredibly fast and – thank Goodness! - steady
covering his naked body with the sheet.
“I prefer my privacy, thank you!” he snapped and crossed the room in a couple
of strides to enter the bathroom, locking behind him.
“You can’t sneak out from there!” Leslie yelled to him.
“Don’t count on it…” Tony said moving his head slowly; suddenly he was feeling
too gloomy, too tired.
Alfred began changing the sheets with new from the closet as soon as the sound
of the shower reached them. What he had heard was out of any logic; it was
preposterous, it was not real but above all was a new unbelievably cruel
torment for his young master. And frankly he preferred Bruce’s claim to be true
and that was only a dream, although an ominous stone was crushing his chest.
Leslie approached Tony who was rubbing his forehead; he really wasn’t in the
mood for anything, especially for an interrogation and crossed his arms ready
to explode.
“Tony, please tell me, son, what happened?”
He closed his eyes; his ‘doom and gloom’ and bad temper weren’t enough to
ignore that sweet talking from Leslie. He told her everything, catching
sometimes Alfred who was tidying up the room, sending glances at him with so
much hidden pain that hurt.
Tony had just finished his recounting when Bruce came out dressed with the
hospital’s bathroom robe.
“Happy? I took my bath without collapsing; is that enough to calm you down?”
Tony thought that he was incredibly stable for someone in the state he found
him just minutes ago.
Leslie however took him from the upper arm and led him to the bed which had
fresh beddings and his pajamas placed neatly on the mattress; Alfred had
brought them when Bruce was admitted to the clinic.
“Alfred, why didn’t you tell me that you brought my pajamas? I’d have been
spared of the gown…” he tried to lighten the mood.
Alfred raised his eyebrows.
“I admit I was a bit affronted you didn’t figure out yourself, knowing me and
so, I let you be punished; furthermore I had to respect the attire rules of the
establishment.”
Bruce smiled and sat on the mattress letting Leslie lie him down. She covered
his lower body with a sheet to start replacing the torn stitches on his
stomach.
Tony turned his back and stared at the Narrows bellow; oddly for a man like
him, the sight of Bruce being pierced by a sharp needle was unbearable even
though he knew that Bruce could handle it. But tonight he didn’t have the
courage even to look at him: he felt completely numb.
“You didn’t lose much blood; the damage was small” Leslie commented while
stitching the small gap. “As soon as I finish the sewing I’ll use an IV to
restore the electrolytes’ balance in your blood after the vomiting and I’ll
give you a mild sedative…”
Bruce shook his head, careful to not stir much.
“I don’t need more sleep, Leslie” he didn’t want to admit that he was afraid of
what he could see while asleep. “I’ll do some work on the laptop and it’d be
better to not be sedated because I have the tests in a couple of hours.”
Leslie tilted her head and cast him a cut-the-crap stare.
“Don’t remind me how the laptop came here and what happened in between… As for
the tests since I know how much…you care about them, the sedative I’ll give
you, won’t affect your performance.” Her voice became soothing “I promise you:
your sleep won’t have any dreams…”
Bruce sighed and opened his mouth to refuse again when he met the back of Tony,
gazing from the window; his reflection morose, gloomy and tired unlike the Tony
he knew. And then he looked at the proud posture of Alfred watching with well
hidden agony and exhaustion Leslie patching him up. He purged his lips and
found Leslie’s eyes.
“OK, Leslie, put me to sleep” it was the only way for everyone else to get some
rest.
Leslie laughed outraged and stood, giving Alfred room to help Bruce wear his
pajamas.
“You make it sound like I’m going to euthanize you…”
Tony didn’t react, he didn’t even change his gaze or turn around and Bruce
lowered his eyes, dressing himself. When he finished Leslie adjusted the IV in
his hand and Alfred settled the blankets around his young master who fell
asleep almost instantly after the doctor injected the sedative in the catheter.
Leslie brought a machine and connected it to Bruce’s chest; then she activated
it and in the screen a green wavy line showed up along with numbers and a
somewhat unsteady beep filled the room. Alfred turned to her.
“I want a complete ECG for Dr. Attkins who will examine Bruce’s heart
tomorrow.”
“Leslie, he is running a fever…” Alfred said puzzled. “He was cold till now…”
She put the thermometer inside Bruce’s ear and looked the indicator. She nodded
deep in thought.
“Those rapid changes of temperature are very strange.”
“Maybe it’s that shit they applied to his body…” Tony said tiredly, reluctantly
turning to them.
Leslie furrowed and covered the distance to Tony with fast strides.
“What you mean?” she demanded. “Bruce told me once about a substance they
spread on him but didn’t give any details; he told you, didn’t he?’’
Tony nodded, his eyes still bereft of their usual sharpness. He explained to
her about the substance and how many years Bruce was subjected to that
procedure. And then he told her how the substance had made Bruce’s body cells
lethal to Superman.
“They mutated him…” she bit her lips. “What kind of monsters they were?!”
‘They were demons…” Tony whispered, pressing his fingers to his throbbing
temple.
Leslie shook her head; Tony wasn’t alright too.
“And nobody thought of informing me?!” she demanded. “They changed his cells
and his organism and I am giving him drugs for normal organisms, unknowingly
risking his health. I could have killed him! I don’t know how his cells will
react to the drugs; these drugs are for people whose cells are not tampered!
Tony!”
He sighed.
“I don’t think that Ra’s would endanger him…”
“He was a lunatic, Tony; we can’t rely on his ‘good intentions’… I must test
every medicine I want to give him and be extremely careful with his
immunization…” she inhaled trying to control her anger.
“Lucius has done some tests on Bruce’s cells and he says that it’s safe to take
normal drugs” Tony remembered.
“And do you and Lucius have any idea what this substance’s consequences will be
on him in the long run?”
“For the time being our focus is on immunizing Superman from the effect Bruce
has on him; when we re-construct the substance maybe we find that also.”
“The focus is on Superman?” Leslie asked shocked.
“It was Bruce’s wish; Superman is weakening rapidly every time is near Bruce
and he can’t restore the damage. Also, I’m afraid of the alien’s addiction to
Bruce…”
Alfred who until now was silent intervened.
“Superman cares about Master Bruce.”
Tony closed his eyes.
“Bruce is his drug” he pointed each word bored from having to explain again.
“Superman is an addict and his need for his drug increases each moment. What do
you think he’ll do when the addict’s panic peaks?”
He saw their widened eyes and nodded.
“This is why Superman is our priority.”
Alfred put his hand on Tony’s shoulder.
“You need rest too, Master Anthony.”
“I’ll give you some mild sleeping pills, Tony.”
He made a motion with his head, denying.
“No, thanks; I’ll be in my penthouse if you need me.”
He walked to the door trying to keep his eyes away from Bruce’s sleeping form
but still seeing the catheters connected to him and the ECG’s monotonous
beeping annoyed his ears. He hurried his way out.
 
The enormous living room of the penthouse was drenched in darkness, the only
lighting coming from the neighboring skyscrapers, the huge billboards and the
movements at the street bellow. On the oval waist - table made of glass  an old
wooden box lay opened emanating the sweet melody of a lullaby.
Tony stood in front of the whole wall window and stared at Gotham’s skyline but
really not seeing anything except than the photo he had thrown to the floor. A
bottle of whiskey was clutched in his hand; he sipped once again and it burned
nice even though it’s been long since the last time he drank.
He caught a glimpse of the photo on the floor and bit his lip. He crouched and
took the photo gently; he brushed the laughing face of the younger boy in the
photo and he smiled too, sharing the joy of the two boys.
“You’re way too old to fall for that shit, Brucie…” he jeered at his pit-sized
friend, sucking the clean summer air of the Palisades.
“Tony, I’m only five!” the younger protested.
Tony laughed even now and then sighed staring at the eight year old Bruce in
the photo.
“You don’t know to chose friends, kiddo…” he snapped gloomy and brought the rim
of the bottle to his lips.
But a soft hand held his wrist stopping him.
“Bruce won’t agree with that…”
He turned astonished and saw Pepper’s shining green eyes looking him
sympathetic yet resolute.
“You had enough, Tony” she said and Tony resisted her attempt to take the
bottle.
He lifted his index finger.
“As a matter of fact, no; I drank too little…”
Pepper’s eyes were warm and firm at the same time but suddenly she frowned.
“Is Bruce alright?”
He inhaled deeply and tossed the bottle to the tiled floor.
“He’ll never be completely al-right, Pepper: everyone knows that!” he pierced
her with his flared up eyes and then lowered his gaze. “They caused him wounds
that will never heal as much as he pretends…”
Pepper shook her head negatively.
“You can’t say that, Tony. Bruce is strong and he has so many people around him
loving and supporting him. He has you…”
Tony’s head lowered and he laughed self-mockingly walking away from Pepper,
placing the photo inside the music box. The young woman frowned and followed
him.
“I thought you’d stay at the clinic.”
He shrugged and returned to the whole wall window. Pepper folded her hands on
the chest and grimaced.
“You had a quarrel with Bruce? Did he say something you didn’t like?”
Tony furrowed his brows and looked outside.
“You can’t understand…”
Pepper covered their distance furiously.
“I’m not a genius like you, Mr. Stark yet I’m sure that if you spill it in
English I’ll get the meaning!”
He turned to her and could discern her so charming irritation and impatience.
She was really concerned. He ran his fingers in his messy hair.
“I was heading to Bruce’s room to change shift with Alfred when I ran into the
old guy; he was scared: do you believe that? Al scared! So I let him find
Leslie and I went to Bruce. I found him kneeled in front of the toilet puking
his guts out. He was icy cold, in pain, sobbing, disoriented, still inside his
flashback…nightmare…whatever…”
Pepper pursed her lips and nodded, patting Tony’s shoulder blade.
“I see… It must be heartrending to watch him in such a state but he is
struggling with it and you help him…”
“I don’t!” he screamed with his eyes bulging, Pepper’s face shocked. “I’m a
useless asshole, a complete moron! I can’t do anything to help him, only
watching goggling in horror!”
She heard the pain coloring his voice along with his self - aiming anger.
Tony snorted.
“I was his best friend” he said focusing his gaze at Gotham and away from
Pepper “When he died I was” laughed dryly “devastated… And what I did? I
partied, I drank, I fucked, I gang banged… I was mourning!” he laughed and then
sobered. “While Bruce was tortured and raped cruelly to satisfy scum like me I
was enjoying myself…”
“You couldn’t have done anything, Tony…”
“That’s a lie, Pepper!” he grabbed her shoulders and pinned her eyes with his
teary ones. “His body was never found and anyone knows that without a body
there’s no murder; I could have searched for him.”
“You were too young, Tony!”
He laughed loudly.
“I wasn’t too young to be admitted to MIT; I wasn’t too young to invent stupid
things; I wasn’t too young to fuck people around!” he closed his eyes and
Pepper felt his pain “But I was too young to think that Bruce was alive…too
young to find him…too young to save him from… If I had searched for him then
I’d have found him and he’d be spared at least of…”
Bruce’s narration still haunted him: a demon… a demon had savored, had rampaged
his friend’s immature body…and Bruce tried to kill himself. Damn! Bruce had the
courage to claim that it was a ‘stupid nightmare’ but he had the feeling, the
heavy feeling that it wasn’t.
Pepper could understand that Tony was hiding things.
“It’s not certain that you would have found him… and if they had known about
your efforts they’d have killed Bruce: you know that, Tony…” she brushed his
hair. “You help him daily, you make him smile…He is happy with you; anyone can
see that…”
Tony yanked his head sighing.
“I feel too small, Pepper…” his voice was hoarse. “How can I fight with…
ah…something that can’t be fought?”
Pepper cupped his head in both her hands and turned him to look her in the
eyes.
“Tony Stark never gives up a fight, especially when his best friend is at
stake!”
His secretary’s, his ‘girl’s’ eyes were glowing full with faith in him; with
absolute confidence in his value as a human being, as a friend, as a man… And
those eyes made him find again his own courage, to believe that Bruce wasn’t
doomed to suffer his entire life from his lack of effort. That he could make
things right even now…
His hands felt gently, sensually Pepper’s delicate back and she brushed his
lips with hers, urging Tony to cup the back of her neck and capture her velvety
lips fervently, passionately. His hand ran to her red-blond hair making
massaging circles in the softness, causing her moans while his tongue met hers,
his other hand slithering under her silken blue shirt to feel her soft belly
and chest.
Pepper let her hands slide his neck and then without interrupting the dance of
their lips grabbed his T-shirt, heaved it and Tony raised his hands to help her
take it off him. Her long warm hands roamed passionately his artistically toned
torso, massaging every strong muscle separately, her nails gently grazing the
flesh stealing grunts from Ironman. Who feeling his blood boiling grasped the
fine lapels of her shirt and ripped it open never letting her lips but
continuing to roll the silk from her porcelain shoulders and then leaving the
fabric slide rapidly her arms to rest on the floor.
Tony grabbed her waist, his groin rubbing on her hip and lowered her to the
floor carefully, her eyes piercing his with desire. He broke the lock of their
lips to taste her long neck that she arched to meet his lips; her nails that
carved rivers in his broad back sent fire to his groin… He sank his head to her
still dressed with black lace chest and she giggled as her teeth bit his
shoulder.
He laughed and unclasped her bra, freeing her small but perfect shaped breasts
to suck her erect nipples. Pepper’s lean torso made an arch, brushing Tony’s
who sensed her eager hands submerge into his jeans groping his firm buttocks.
“My naughty girl…” he whispered and his tongue began licking the delicate arch
of her torso ending at her navel.
Pepper’s grunts became louder; her hands unbuttoned hastily his jeans and then
unzipped his fly to free his already erect member.
“Com’ on, Man of Iron!” she giggled wickedly and desperately at the same time,
her hand caressing his throbbing member and then his balls.
His haste was such that he couldn’t unzip her skirt and she laughed mockingly,
lowering his jeans and boxer simultaneously. So what a superhero was to do? He
ripped the skirt in two, the fabric falling to the floor.
“That skirt was Gucci…” she whispered in his ear and he raised his head from
her black lace panties.
“Tomorrow I’ll buy you a Dolce Gabbana along with new panties…” he sank his
mouth on her ‘mount of Venus’, nibbling the incredibly soft flesh, his strong
hands tearing the small piece of fabric for his tongue to reach her vagina.
She was panting now, her hip rising to get more from him, her nails scratching
his back, trembling from anticipation. Her endless legs wrapped his buttocks
her stilettos grazing his flesh.
“Com’ on, you creep!” she yelled and he obliged with a swift but gentle thrust,
causing their moans to unite in the room’s hot air.
They were both all sweaty; Pepper’s legs urging Tony to thrust deeper and
faster. He looked her dilated eyes, the happiness, the satisfaction, the
ecstasy and suddenly Bruce’s desperate eyes came in his mind; the eyes of a
baby angel being brutally raped; jeers from harsh voices and sounds of tender
unripe flesh being torn and then sobs, screams of pain and baby cries.
Blood, horror, pain, shame and misery from the same thing that gave infinite
pleasure and happiness to every person in the world. As he rocked Pepper’s hot
body that was glued on his and her lips that sucked his breasts sent
electricity all over him, his heart was crying praying that his friend will
feel what he was feeling: how beautiful it was to love and be truly loved…
 
 
 
 
***** Chapter 35 *****
Chapter Notes
     I'd like to thank all of you for reading, leaving kudos and
     commenting; your comments are always welcomed.
     Also, in this chapter I included a guest but I don't know much about
     him so there could be some OOC... but we're in AU, after all...
The monotonous beep hit Bruce’s ears as soon as he entered the spacious
orthogonal room clutching his father’s hand fearful. It was the first time his
father brought him to a room of the intense care unit and that because he asked
him to; but now he was scared… scared and sad because here lay people in great
pain or on the edge of dying. He didn’t want people dying and his little heart
throbbed with sorrow, making his eyes wet.
Thomas looked at his seven years old son and smiled encouragingly. He wrapped
the boy’s shoulders with his other hand and led him to the bed.
“Don’t cry, Bruce; she will be alright. The surgery was successful and she’ll
be fine…”
His father didn’t understand that he was crying not only from fear for his
friend but also for every patient in the hospital who suffered or was to die.
Yet he didn’t want to sadden his father so smiled and wiped his tears.
“Her heart sounds different than when you let me hear my heart with your
stethoscope…” he whispered anxiously and Thomas ruffled his boy’s locks.
“This sound is artificial, not the real sound; calm down, Bruce, your lady
friend will live. But you can’t save everyone…”
The monotonous beep became more insistent and loud and Bruce realized that
followed his own pulse. His entire body felt stiff but especially his middle
section was throbbing; he remembered the toilet and the compulsion that heaved
his body and urged him to throw up. He hated puking.
He opened his eyes hesitantly with the numbing awareness that another day of
exams awaited him. He felt so discouraged, so exhausted, so hopeless… Yet the
sun crept inside the room from the small window and seemed so happy.
“Good morning, sunshine! Sun calls for you!”
That voice… His eyes widened and every dark emotion was flushed.
“Selina!” he made to rise but she placed her hand on his chest.
“Easy, Bruce; you have some charming cables and catheters hanging from your
body and I suppose is for good reason there…”
He sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Yes, sure: to torture me… Tell me you’re not a dream.”
She laughed and gulped one of the biscuits that were left in the plate.
“I know that I’m unbelievably beautiful but no, I’m not a dream. Do you want me
to pinch you? Nah…” she leaned on him and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.
“Nice nose!” she snapped for his swollen nose. “How this fits in the cowl?’’
“Don’t ask…”
Bruce smiled; she was beautiful as always in her discolored tight jeans that
outlined each of her curves and the black wool turtle neck. Her long, straight
hair in a ponytail reaching her waist. She settled again in the chair biting a
second biscuit.
“Mmmm… I missed them…”
Bruce watched her with affection dripping from his eyes, he smiled.
“Don’t tell me you stopped your journey because of Alfred’s biscuits…”
She put her elbow on the mattress and supported her chin in her hand.
“I’m worried, Bruce” she said sighing “scumbags have set their eyes on you and
I hate it” he closed his eyes tilting his head on the pillow ready to protest
but she didn’t let him. “Luthor is in Gotham.” She said and Bruce looked her
interested.
“How do you know? I mean did he come incognito and you saw him at the Narrows?”
She chuckled.
“Nah! He came very much in the open and I saw him on TV; one of Gotham’s gossip
shows caught him at Grand Hotel Palace’s foyer. But Gotham’s Prince’s dramatic
adventure stole the show once again from poor Alex…”
He rolled his eyes, fuming.
“I wonder what he is up to… Unless Joker was right and the gun was indeed his.”
“Luthor never does things at random.”
Bruce nodded deep in thought and then slapped the mattress with the hand that
didn’t have the IV.
“Of course… The window in my office was made from an impenetrable mixture
resembling glass; Dagget however as a shareholder had access to the info about
the structure of the material, since the construction was done by Wayne
Enterprises. He gave the info to Luthor and LEXCORP manufactured a weapon able
to pierce the material, brought it in Gotham and then he came too.”
Selina’s eyes became two slits.
“That bald asshole planned to attack you?! Luthor took it rather heavy that you
kneed his balls… But cooperating with Dagget?!”
Bruce remembered that Selina didn’t know the developments.
“They signed a deal recently about one of Dagget’s mines…”
“Kryptonite…” Selina exclaimed and Bruce nodded.
“They already tested their finding attempting to kill Superman.”
Selina smiled slyly.
“Don’t tell me that Batman saved the sexy alien boy?” her eyes shone greedily.
Bruce tilted his head and cast an irritated gaze at her.
“I have missed many episodes!” she sighed. “I love it: the powerful god saved
in the arms of a beautiful mortal… Uuuuuu! I feel goose bumps! So what’s the
plan? Luthor finally finishes Supes and gets you, Dagget gets the Wayne
Enterprises…”
“Obadiah Stane gets Stark Industries…”
“Who is he?”
“A small businessman who worked for Howard Stark; he obviously believes that
Stark Industries were his creation and thus belong to him so wants to grab them
from Tony, extracting his revenge. And there is another one in the game, a
woman.”
Selina whistled impressed.
“And you think that those four are working together, huh?” she raised an
eyebrow. “Good think then I returned: to restore the power balance.”
Bruce smiled but he was thinking fast.
 “If Luthor came here to set his plan in motion then maybe other players are
here too…” he was thinking about the mysterious Miranda Tate “and maybe through
him I could find her…”
“And why they want to hit you first? I mean who is so stupid to attack someone
who has the protection of Ironman and the obvious interest of Superman? The
reasonable thing it’d be first neutralizing Superman with the Kryptonite and
then attack you.”
Bruce looked at her interested; Selina was right. He blinked. Unless they knew
about the substance and the effect he had on Superman and in increasing the
Kryptonite’s power… But how? League of Shadows was the first thought. He needed
to investigate.
“Ugh! I must get out of this clinic ASAP; I have so many things to do!” and
then he cast a lopsided glance to Selina. “Dramatic adventure?” he asked
raising his eyebrows.
She looked around and realizing he was referring to her phrase about Joker’s
attack she shrugged.
“Joker’s obsession did send you to the hospital!”
Bruce snorted and looked exasperated at the ECG.
“The only one’s obsession that brought me to the clinic was Leslie’s! With all
due respect…”
Selina giggled and then laughed loudly.
“Don’t tell her…” he winked. “I was playing the weak victim and she took
advantage to put me through some tests that she wanted me to do long ago.”
She stopped laughing.
“Then with all due respect you’re the obsessive, dear; delaying your exams.
From your eight years you’re never examined by a decent doctor and you went
through what others don’t in their lifetime…”
Bruce sat on the mattress, though his anus protested.
“Fine! I get it: my fault. But an ECG..! As if I’m dying… And you shouldn’t
have stopped your trip: I know how much you wanted to travel.”
“Yeah, it was a thrilling trip; many interesting meetings…”
“I hope not with Scotland Yard and Interpol…” he smirked and winked.
Selina cast him a sideways glance.
“Darling, you know how much boys in blue love me! But if you want to compensate
for my interrupted trip you only have to make some business trips…”
“What?”
She tilted her head.
“Bodyguards follow their boss” she shrugged.
“You thought my business’ proposition then?”
She pouted and blinked.
“You need me so much, handsome… Though there’s someone who wants to guard your
body more intimate…” she winked and Bruce pressed his lips in a tight line.
“I don’t know who…”
She rolled her eyes.
“Com’ on, Bruce, you’re speaking to the Cat. I mean the red and blue clad boy
who like the Prince stormed to save the beauty from the dragon…”
He shook his head rubbing his temple with his bandaged hand and Selina hurried
to take the hand and caress it.
“And I’m happy he did it” she kissed the bandage leaving her lips outline.
“An autograph?” Bruce smiled.
“You see how lucky you are? You have Catwoman cuddling you, Ironman protecting
you…”
Bruce shook his head in negation and Selina saw his melancholy.
“Tony isn’t here.”
“So?”
He swallowed hard.
“He is tired, Selina… I mean fed up from all these…” he gestured loosely to
himself and shook his head. “Tony is a joyful person, careless and I give him
only sadness and sorrow” his voice was steady and harsh. “It is perfectly
normal to…”
“To leave? You?” she asked shocked. “Bruce, that’s utterly rubbish and if you
believe this, Leslie may brought you here but I’ll take you to Arkham! I don’t
know him long but his love for you is emanating – it’s perfectly normal to be
devastated by the cruelty you suffered” Bruce narrowed his eyes “to feel
overwhelmed and…and completely useless” she knew the feeling too well and her
friend understood seeing her uncomfortable eyes staring the floor but when she
sensed Bruce’s eyes watching her steeled herself “but he loves you and he’ll
never leave you, even if you wanted to. Maybe he has work…”
Bruce nodded.
“Sometimes I’m talking nonsense…”
Selina waved her hand nonchalant.
 “It’s alright, honey; you’re a man, it’s in your nature…” she giggled. “I’m
kidding…” Bruce wasn’t sure for that. “Speaking of men and super - men, last
night I saw except than Tony, Superman. Oh, boy! He’s desperately in love with
you, the way he stormed to save you…the way he blushes at the mere mention of
you…”
“Selina, he is not” he stressed each word. “He’d have done the same for
anyone…”
She regarded her red nails and lifted her eyebrows.
“But he wouldn’t have enjoyed it so much… I saw the boy, Bruce: he is burning…
and he is quite the hottie, huh?”
He felt a surge of sweat washing his body and a piercing pain in his pelvis. He
closed his eyes, a feeling of panic almost settling as he felt stray, cruel
hands paw him painfully.
“Bruce, are you alright?” as she stared in his eyes the scene of Chill raping
him returned clearly like that night in the alley; she bit her lip realizing
that she was too hasty in her comments.
He smiled and nodded changing the subject.
“So, I’ll have a second secretary.”
She brought her index finger on her lips.
“Nah. I prefer the shadows and the leather form fitting outfit to business
suits.”
“I don’t know…” Bruce furrowed. “Pepper Potts is extremely hot in business
suits…”
The cat pierced him with a mock jealous stare.
“I thought I was the only lovely lady you knew and you didn’t want to know any
other else?” she shook her head exasperated. “Men…”
Bruce chuckled but stopped when someone knocked on the door. It was Alfred.
“Miss Kyle!” he exclaimed exhilarated and Selina hugged and kissed him on both
cheeks. “How nice to see you again!”
“Me too, Alfred; I missed you…”
“This is extremely flattering coming from a charming young lady like you to an
old man like me” Bruce was chuckling.
“You? An old man? I don’t think so, Sir Pennyworth; charm and chivalry have no
age…”
“After that, Alfred, I think your day will be more beautiful…” Bruce teased
him.
But Alfred shook his head.
“As soon as you take a shower and I hand you to Leslie for your examinations;
until then I’ll be unable to fully enjoy Miss Kyle’s compliments, having to
endure my Master’s torments.”
“You’re such a bad boy, Bruce…” Selina pouted, dragging her words. “Don’t
worry, Alfred, I’m here now to set him in line.”
 
Tony was fully absorbed in cutting a slice of the kryptonite bullet, leaned
over the working bench in Lucius’ laboratory so he was surprised when the man
called someone to come in the pre-room which was separated from the laboratory
with a half brick – half glass wall.
Tony raised his covered with the special glasses eyes and immediately rolled
them exasperated, seeing a young blond man in jeans entering the place. It was
so unreal to see him here.
“Tony, Miss Potts told me that you’re here: can I talk to you?” he asked
nodding to Lucius in salute.
Tony closed his eyes and tilted his head.
“You have to be kiddin’ me!”
“Mr. Stark, I’ll continue” Lucius said and Tony walked out of the laboratory
leading the way out of the pre-room, pulling out his examination gloves, mouth
mask and settling the glasses on his head.
He stopped at the hall in front of the laboratory’s door and crossed his arms
on the chest, regarding Steve Rogers lopsided. He should have expected it;
Captain America was the unofficial leader of the Avengers and a likeable
figure, so they sent him to preach him. The man was staring at him hesitant,
divided between his ‘captain’s’ duties and his understanding for Tony’s wrath.
“Steve, spill it: I got work to do. Although I already know why you’re here and
it’s pointless” he didn’t plan to abandon the Avengers after the discussion he
had with Bruce yet he was Tony Stark; they shouldn’t take him for granted…
“I don’t know what you’re doing but maybe Dr. Banner could help you…”
Tony laughed and shook his head; exactly what Gotham needed: Hulk. Bruce would
become green as well…
“I don’t want any of you in Gotham and in my business.”
Steve sighed.
“You have a quarrel with Fury but we didn’t have anything to do with his deeds.
Tony, nobody likes Fury and everyone understands your feelings but this isn’t a
reason to leave…”
Tony laughed sarcastic.
“Money makes the world go round…” he sang and Steve frowned puzzled. “The
famous song…” Tony tried yet Steve didn’t show signs of recognition so Tony
snorted. “Forget it! Generation gap… I mean that you’ll miss my money!”
Now Steve looked angry, insulted.
“Money doesn’t concern us, Tony and I wasn’t sent by the S.H.I.E.L.D. You are
our comrade!” Tony wanted to slap himself and call Steve ‘camarad’ yet the
World War II boy would be more insulted so dropped it. “You’re a crucial part
of the team and a brother in arms.”
Tony rolled his eyes and pretended wiping a tear.
“Don’t mock me, Stark; you’re a valuable soldier that everyone can rely on
during the battle. Avengers won’t be the same without you.”
“I’ll tell that to my manager to ask a raise to my paycheck!”
“Come on, Tony; this isn’t a game. World’s peace and safety relies on that!”
So much passion, Tony admired. Yet he couldn’t but imagine Pepper’s reaction on
hearing that the ‘world’s peace and safety’ relied on him. He chuckled and
Steve frowned.
“What Fury did was despicable.”
Tony narrowed his eyes.
“You know?”
Steve shook his head.
“Everybody knows the men’s obsession with Batman; I mean I’d want to have a
warrior like him in my team too. And we hear about the attack on Bruce Wayne
and then Natasha found that Fury had tricked you into leaving Gotham to corner
him in his office…”
Tony nodded smirking: of course it’d be Natasha.
“Natasha said that will gladly guard your friend during your absences.”
Tony widened his eyes imagining Bruce’s reaction on learning that a spy and
assassin wants to become his shadow. He gulped; what a surprise Bruce will be
for the Black Widow. On the other side, what was that with every hot stuff
wanting to guard Bruce’s body?
“I’m afraid that the position is taken but… I’ll consider it for myself.”
Steve wasn’t the most patient man.
“Tony, seriously now; will you continue to be a part of the team?”
Tony rubbed his chin deep in thought; every agent in Hollywood advises to make
it seem as if you’re making them a big favor.
“I don’t want Fury anywhere near me or having any contact with me and any of
you approach Bruce or Gotham; also I’m to decide if something is truly an
emergency.”
“I’d have liked to meet your remarkable friend” he took in Tony’s surprised
eyes. I may have been frozen for decades but now I watch the news. Your friend
is a true hero.”
“Flattery won’t help you, soldier… You heard my terms.”
Steve looked extremely serious and Tony was afraid that he’ll put his hand on
his heart and swear.
“Your contacts will be only with the team and your other terms will be
respected” he shook his head resolutely “to my soldier’s honor” Tony rolled his
eyes as the man put his hand on his heart.
The billionaire stretched his hand and Steve shook it, smiling broad.
“You brought me round, soldier!” he patted the young man’s shoulder blade.
“And, Steve” he told his leaving form and he turned “change that haircut…” he
winked tilting his head.
Tony was surprised to realize that he was actually relieved and happy after
that small encounter. But suddenly the door to the laboratory burst open and
Lucius’s head prompted.
“Mr. Stark, you won’t believe it!”
 
Leslie was at his side as he lay down on the MRI’s table; her eyes were worried
and Bruce blamed it to Dr. Attkins’ haste to give him pills for his arrhythmia
after the thorough study of his night ECG and the even more thorough tests on
his heart.
The pills were only for when his heart would manifest arrhythmia but still
Bruce was outraged. Last night’s ‘arrhythmia’ was due to a nasty nightmare; his
heart didn’t need pills, he could control his pulse as he did during the tests.
And now Leslie was reluctant to put him in the ‘oven’, inside the MRI; she was
afraid that the enclosed space might cause him a fit.
“I’m fine, Leslie; I don’t have a fear for small, closed spaces.”
She brushed his forehead and smiled.
“I know, Bruce. But if you feel any discomfort I want you to tell me
immediately: I’ll be right there with Dr. Smit” she showed him the old man
behind the glass “we’ll be talking to you.”
Bruce nodded, smiling reassuringly and Leslie pressed the button sending him
slowly inside the narrow, dark tunnel and he was reminded of the times he slid
the burrow in his cell to be free. After a minute he heard the sounds
indicating that his body was scanned.
Dr. Smit was looking the images on the screen with pressed lips.
“All these years of abuse are obvious…” he muttered. “Look at his bones” he
pointed with the special pen “their density is at the minimum, crying that the
boy was starved for many, crucial years.”
She nodded.
“We’ll need to give him additional calcium; I’ll show the scans to Irina to
make an action plan.”
“Look here’’ he gestured to Bruce’s right arm. “The marks from the bullets and
the former malformation are clear; it’s impressive how this arm is so perfectly
restored and operating.”
As more images came from the scan, the doctor darkened and Leslie saw some
sweat drops in his forehead. He shook his head.
“I can’t believe it! His tissues and organs have still profound marks of abuse:
lacerations, scars, deforms… I can say at which age they were made; I can see
the progressiveness of the torture… I mean abuse…” his voice was strictly
professional but Leslie who knew the man could discern his distress. “Oh,
Leslie! Look the bones! Old bruises but so severe that couldn’t be completely
healed before new were added and cracks… It’s a miracle his organs are in good
shape and operational; his heart’s function is normal and his brain except than
some scars doesn’t manifest any major malfunction: actually is impressive.”
He pointed to Leslie a new image from Bruce’s pelvis. His pen showed the
lowered section of Bruce’s spine and Leslie frowned.
Dr. Smit opened the microphone.
“Mr. Wayne, have you experienced any discomfort or pain in your pelvis?”
“I…” he was in pain constantly for eighteen years.
“Lately, Bruce” Leslie offered understanding the young man’s confusion.
“Hm… Yes, but…” he wanted to say that it was very mild yet he didn’t think it
right to lie to a doctor. “Yes, sometimes I feel pain.”
“Do you have any erections, Mr. Wayne?” Dr. Smit asked bluntly and Bruce closed
his eyes.
After a few seconds of complete silence Leslie intervened.
“We’re doctors, Bruce, you can speak freely…” but she felt for the youth.
He swallowed hard.
“I don’t understand…”
Leslie rubbed her temple; it was an embarrassing question for someone with
Bruce’s experiences but Dr. Smit wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.
“Please answer, son…’’ she tried to soothe him.
Bruce rolled his eyes; he didn’t like to be treated as if he was frail, a weak
child.
“No, I don’t” he spat.
“In the morning hours?”
“No.”
“During masturbation?”
Now the tunnel felt hot like oven and too suffocating; he wanted to escape, to
run and never come back but he couldn’t.
“Stroke slowly yor little balls…That’s perfect, babe…And now take yor little
dick in yor hand…”Falcone’s heavy and harsh voice filled the constricted space.
“I…Leslie!” his voice was angry. “What kind of question is that? I never do
that…”
Leslie looked at Dr. Smit who zoomed at the S2-S4 section of Bruce’s spine.
“Mr. Wayne, I understand that this is difficult but I have to ask: do you
remember having any erection in your life?”
“I want to see yor weenie fly…’’
The abundant light from the lamp right above him pained his eyes. He was
standing in the middle of the office that he was forced to know in every detail
the last year after his parents’ murder. He was staring at Falcone’s huge form
which was sprawled on his leather sofa gaping hungrily at his small body that
was shivering. Not from the cold although he had stripped completely after his
master’s order but from those malicious eyes which savored his body.
“I…I don’t know what…”
The man jolted from his place and his grey eyes was furious.
“Don’t play the virgin to me!” he roared. “Some days ago ya sneaked out to get
fucked, ya little bitch! Don’t fuck with me!”
He spoke about the night he got out of the cabaret to go to the alley. It was
the anniversary of his parents’ murder and he wanted to leave a rose there, a
shabby rose he had found in the garbage; he wanted to tell them that he still
remembered them. But Chill found him and… and he did to him what they call
‘fuck’ and when Falcone saw the blood in his clothes he said that some punk had
‘fucked him’.
Leslie waited to hear something from Bruce but there was only silence and she
felt a knot in her gut.
“Theo, is really…?” she asked exasperated.
He closed the microphone and stared at her above his small round glasses.
“Leslie, I’m sorry but we have a serious lesion here which seems old enough and
I must get some information.”
She inhaled and pressed the button.
“Bruce, son, answer Dr. Smit.”
“Stroke yor little balls… Slowly… Bravo!” Falcone opened his fly and lowered
his pants and briefs under the knees; he opened his legs to give space to his
throbbing length. “Now, grab yor little dick and brush it…”
He took his member in his hand but he couldn’t, he was numb. And his master’s
irritation made matters worse.
“Ya never played with yor birdie?! Com’ on, ya moron, I know ya did!” he
barked.
He moved his hand hesitantly and stopped believing that it was enough.
Falcone was enraged and his plump face was all red with frustration. He hastily
pulled his leather belt out from his pants that had gathered around his ankles.
The sting in his thigh was strong and he yelled mostly from surprise.
“Close tightly yor fingers around yor prick and move yor hand up and down! Or
the second lash will be stronger!”
He obeyed moving his hand up and down, up and down… Another crush of the belt
on his thigh made him fasten the pace and start crying: his hand was all sweaty
and his member felt like burning.
Falcone was watching breathing hard, his penis half hard but he wasn’t
satisfied. The boy’s dick was limp despite the fastening of his ministrations.
He gritted his teeth and raised his belt, whipping the soft thighs three times
in a row.
He cried from the pain and tried to move his hand faster but his knees bent and
he collapsed on the floor, holding his soft member and trembling for his
master’s wrath.
“Com’ here!” roared the Grey Wolf.
He dragged his knees and approached Falcone who was still sat in the sofa.
“I…I’m sorry, sir…” he whispered, squeezing desperately his unresponsive flesh
wanting to satisfy the cruel man before he punished him.
“Ya’re useless…” he exclaimed.
And while he expected to be whipped like every time Falcone wasn’t satisfied
the man fisted his hair and placed his soft cheek on his hairy groin. The hairs
prickled him and tried to lift his head but Falcone pressed him more, sighing.
“So soft and warm…” he rubbed his tender cheek on his groin and grabbed Bruce’s
sole operating hand bringing it on his throbbing and half erect length ; Bruce
gasped from fear. “Stroke it, slut!” and seeing his unwillingness he rubbed the
boy’s cheek more violently to his aching penis. “Stroke it or I swear I’ll skin
ya with my belt, bitch!” he began moving the boy’s hand himself on his enormous
member and for passing the message slapped the boy’s naked buttocks.
He closed his eyes and began stroking his master’s member but the man clenched
his hair twisting the locks painful.
“Open yor eyes and see what a real man is … That’s it… Ah! Ah! Faster now,
stupid thing!”
He saw the thick flesh becoming thicker and longer, horrific and menacing. But
he continued although he was scared of that thing that caused so much pain.
Suddenly he felt the harsh hand of his master pushing his buttocks apart.
“The first time I'll fuck ya will be in a special occasion; Till then I'll do
this…” he laughed.
He felt something entering him and although days had passed since that night
Chill put his length there, it pained and he screamed. But Falcone laughed and
slapped viciously his buttock.
“A finger is better than a thick prick!” he bent his finger inside him and he
convulsed causing his master’s belt to sank in his buttocks; he yelled. “I
didn’t tell ya to stop stroking…”
He resumed his ‘work’ and saw the monstrous thing hoisted into the air, the
same time as a second finger entered him and he began sobbing with tears that
made Falcone’s balls twitch excited. The plumb fingers moved inside him,
irritating the scars Chill had left and impaling him with a constant in and out
that became more frantic the more he whined.
The man roared and Bruce felt hot, thick liquid hitting his hand and his face.
“Lick it, Prince slut!” Falcone whispered hoarsely sunk in the sofa and slammed
Bruce’s mouth to his ‘flying’ penis.
His respiration from the intercom sounded uneven and heavy.
“Theo, get him out of there immediately!” Leslie said to her colleague and his
finger flew to the button.
“How…how could I?” his voice was pale and hoarse and Leslie’s heart was pinched
because she doubted that the youth was acting. “No, I…I never…had an erection.”
Leslie was finally able to breathe and Dr. Smit nodded and closed the intercom.
“The major injury must have occurred while he was very young and then many more
were added; at first could have been the shock that blocked any erectile
reaction but with the accumulating injuries there the lesion became severe;
even his rectum is scarred and mildly deformed. I’m afraid” he shook his head
in the negative “that the damage is irrevocable.”
 “Are you sure?” her voice was sad. “Maybe a surgery could solve the problem.”
Dr. Smit wasn’t used to hear Leslie’s voice like that and pressed his lips,
pointing at a spot in the image from Bruce’s lower spine.
“We can’t perform a surgery there, Leslie…” she knew that. “It’s a very
delicate spot and a surgery there is very complicate and risky; and with the
overall condition of the S2-S4 area…” he sighed. “Mr. Wayne is very lucky he
can walk, Leslie, and attempting a surgery there might take that from him too;
we can only administer pain killers to soothe the discomfort. Besides” he
showed a different image “his prostate has already many disfigurements from
injuries to perform normally.”
Leslie stood abruptly and turned her back; she was a veteran doctor and she
knew that these exams were necessary for Bruce but now she shared his
unwillingness to do them.
“I don’t want to even imagine the cruelty that did that much damage…” Dr. Smit
mumbled. “And it’s so painfully evident that the damage began too early… before
the tenth year…” the man knitted his brows at the indications in the screen.
“Leslie…”
She returned and bit her lip at the abnormal color Bruce’s cells emanated
because now Dr. Smit had changed the scan’s mode.
“I never saw something like that” he looked at her puzzled. “Mr. Wayne has to
be examined thoroughly; I don’t know what this is and how it can react with
medicine.”
“Mr. Fox at Wayne Enterprises has already analyzed that thoroughly; it’s
nothing serious, some insignificant anomaly” Dr. Smit wasn’t convinced. “His
analyses have showed that Bruce can take medicine” however she was determined
to not administer anything to him without testing it but she didn’t want more
questions. “Can we bring him out now?”
He nodded.
“I have detailed scans; I’ll give you the file for the other doctors.” He
smiled looking at the MRI tube. “You have a miracle there, Leslie…I don’t know
how he managed to survive and in impressively good shape.”
Leslie shook her head as Dr. Smit pressed the button.
“A miracle in pain…” she muttered.
“It’s a good thing he has Ironman and Superman protecting him. That damage to
his spine is very alarming and needs caution: the results of a new injury could
be devastating.”
Leslie didn’t answer and hurried to the chamber where Bruce was already sitting
at the table. She held his upper arm.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine” he snapped. “Are we done? Can we leave?”
He was angry and Leslie took his wrist to examine his pulse. But the young man
jerked his hand.
“My heart is fine! You know I don’t have arrhythmia; it was just the nightmare.
And I won’t take the fucking pills!”
“Don’t worry, Bruce; I’ll test them before…” she halted abruptly realizing
Bruce’s widened eyes; the youth understood that she was told about the
substance.
Leslie cast a glance at the computer room overlooking the MRI chamber and was
happy for Dr. Smit’s absence.
“Tony told me, alright? And you should have told me from the beginning!”
Bruce rubbed his eyes.
“Fine…” he nodded. “Can we proceed to the other exams?”
Leslie touched his cheek.
“No, we can’t; you’re cold.”
Bruce rolled his eyes impatiently.
“It must be all this discussion about erections!”
“Actually it’s warm in there.”
“Not for me!” he jumped to his feet and Leslie took his hands.
“Please, Bruce; sit at the chair.”
He shook his head.
“I’m not sick: I want to take off me that gown, wear my clothes and leave.”
To your dangerous activities, Leslie thought and decided to speak clear.
“Bruce, I want you to listen to me calmly and carefully. The MRI showed that
your lower spine has suffered severe injuries in a spot that we can't operate
and along with the damage in your prostate…”
“I can’t have erections…” he interrupted her impatiently. “I know that already;
you put me through all this to discover that? Don’t tell me you found out about
my chopped left big toe and my broken nose?!” he laughed. “You could just ask.
And big deal! I don’t care for anything concerning my…” he restrained himself
before uttering one of the words Falcone had ‘taught’ him “penis. I don’t want
anything to remind me that this particular organ exists. Do you think that I’d
be sad that I won’t be able to hurt others with that?”
He didn’t realize it but he had tears in his eyes. Leslie cupped his face.
“You wouldn’t have hurt anyone, Bruce” she whispered. “But apart from that the
fact is that this same injury could if it is stressed” Bruce narrowed his eyes
suspiciously “lead to paralysis. So it would be for the best if you…”
Bruce jolted as if electricity had hit him and avoided Leslie’s hands.
“Don’t even think about it!” he hissed enraged. “This is the reason you wanted
me through all these? To…to have a way to scare me out of this? No, Leslie,
forget it! I won’t stop! I’m fine!”
Leslie massaged her forehead. She didn’t want Bruce so upset.
“Listen, Bruce; I know how important this is to you. I know that this preserved
your sanity and saved you and Gotham from Falcone. I know that this is your
outlet, your escape” Bruce had his back turned to her. “But now you’re free,
son; you have an entire life ahead and you should enjoy every second of it” she
sighed. “I don’t want you confined in a chair after all the torture you’ve been
through! And it’s dangerous, Bruce…”
He turned to her slowly calm but with determination emanating from his eyes.
“You won’t say anything to anyone” it was Batman's growl with some
understanding for the doctor’s affection. “I won’t be injured; the armor
protects me. You must understand: I can’t stop, Leslie…They won’t take that
from me too…”
Leslie nodded feeling exhausted.
“I won’t say anything; after all” she smiled “there’s the doctor-patient
confidentiality. But, Bruce, we can find another way…” she meant another way of
escaping from his past.
He shook his head in denial, with his lips in a tight line and his jaw set; his
eyes were steely.
“There’s no other way and Gotham needs him. So what’s next?”
“Dentist, endocrinologist and orthopedic specialist.”
“MRI didn’t show everything about my bones?”
“Dr. Petrova will say what your bones need to be galvanized. The supplements
you already take may not be enough.”
The phone on the wall rang. It was Dr. Martinez.
“Your results are ready” Leslie told Bruce.
 
“Visits so late in the evening are unusual…” the male voice said.
Rachel walked slowly and confidently towards the cells of the MCU; he had a
small smirk on her face that the officer who was ushering her couldn’t see. Her
eyes glistened as soon as they found Joker sitting with the grace and the
grandeur of a king at the cell’s bench; he was staring at the table opposite
his cell where the police officers had placed his weaponry: every kind of
blades, long and short, thin and wide; everyone naked without a handle. And
among them some grenades and small metallic spheres.
Joker was in the central cell and in the cells around him where his goons that
was arrested at the Wayne Tower and during the prior attacks.
“Don’t get very close” the officer told Rachel and she nodded.
At the same time, Harvey ran into the MCU’s foyer.
“Have you seen a young woman with brunette hair? Rachel Dawes…” he asked
anxiously the female officer at the reception.
“Yes, Mr. Dent; she told the head officer that she is Joker’s attorney and he
escorted her to the cells… She showed her professional ID. What?” she asked
worried seeing the DA going pale.
“Damn!” he exclaimed.
Rachel had asked him an hour ago to let her see the man who killed her boss;
she wanted to ask him what he gained from killing an innocent man and if he was
happy now that he’d spend his entire life in prison. The young woman was
determined and seemed quite angry when Harvey refused saying that it was very
dangerous.
And she had found another way to get what she wanted. Rachel was brave but she
didn’t know the Joker. And those officers were so damn stupid!
He ran towards the basement where the cells were. He could see the first
railings… His breath was uneven. He could see the police officer… He was
rasping. He saw Rachel… He halted abruptly.
“Rachel, no!”
Joker was staring at her from the railings cunningly and giggled at her. She
was angry, Harvey could see that clearly. Her hands slipped in her jacket and
emerged holding a knife. She surged against Joker who erupted in laughter.
“Uuuuuu! I loooooove hot chicks!”
Rachel roared. Harvey saw Joker grabbing her wrist and slamming her against the
metal; she yelled from surprise or pain and Joker turned her towards the
officer that had already drawn his gun and aimed at Joker who however had
Rachel as shield, her own knife grazing her soft neck.
Harvey felt numb, completely paralyzed.
“Nah, nah, nah… Naaaaaughty boy!” Joker sang to the officer. “Put down that
chaaaaarming gun and I won’t cut that beautiful neck…” Harvey felt Joker's acid
eyes burning him. “Oooooooh! The DA rock star is in our company! Boys, give him
a warm applause…”
His goons obeyed, clapping and whistling and Harvey felt enraged forgetting for
an instance the situation.
“Com’ on, Inspector Gadget!” Joker screamed at the officer. “Put down that gun
before you hurt yourself… Muahahahaha! Ooooh! I liiiiiike my style!” Rachel
made to resist but Joker pressed her more to the metal and she whined. “Easy,
doll face; I know I’m irresistible but I’m engaged… Put that gun DOWN, you
DORK!”
Harvey gestured to the officer to put his gun down.
“Well dooooone!” Joker exclaimed thrilled. “You see? It wasn’t so difficult…
Thank you, mister DA for your mostly kiiiiind attribution…” his voice became
serious. “Now kick the gun to the first cell and open the doors; to help you:
you need to lift your little hand to that beautiful little round shaped button
and pressed it geeeeeently…” he spoke as if talking to a retarded or a really
young child.
Harvey moved decisively towards the cell but Joker pressed the blade menacingly
to Rachel’s neck and she began crying.
“Not too close, cowboy; I’m easily turned on! HAHAHAHAA!”
Harvey’s eyes were glowering spiting fire at the scarred man.
“Uuuuuuu! I loooove that murdering glare! Do you think you might be my Batsy?
Imagine that… Respectful DA during the day, blood thirsty rodent at night…” he
tilted his head. “Nah! It’d be more fun if you were a drag queen at nights!
AHAHAHAHA! Life is soooooooo beautiful!”
“You won’t get away, Joker; let the girl go now. What you ask can’t be done!”
his jaw was clenched.
Joker pursed his lips.
“OK, then…” he shook his head and dragged rapidly the knife on Rachel’s neck,
making a superficial cut that oozed blood.
Rachel yelled and Harvey’s eyes bulged, his face completely pale. Rachel’s
teary eyes found Harvey’s and he realized that she was apologizing.
“Stop!” the DA roared to the madman and Joker smirked to him with his eyes
glowing devilishly.
“The doors, please…” Joker said playfully. “Because my Parkinson worsens when
I’m irritated…”
Harvey licked his dried lips; he was sweaty. The button Joker showed was the
central one that opened simultaneously every door. How the devil knew that? He
couldn’t let all these prisoners escape; except than Joker’s goons there were
also murderers and rapists. His heart stopped hearing Rachel’s scream.
He saw Joker’s hand which was pinning her belly wondering under her skirt.
“Press the damn button!” he ordered the officer but he looked him dumbfounded
and didn’t obey.
Harvey grunted in frustration and stormed to the wall hitting the button with
his palm. Every door dragged in once, opening the cells, at least fifty
criminals running out, yelling triumphantly.
In the center Joker still holding the unconscious Rachel yanked his head
upwards.
“I told you that I’d liberate you, my loyal subjects!” he mimicked a British
accent “Give now an enthusiastic hurray to your new Emperor and let’s spread
some chaos!”
Harvey watched flabbergasted as Joker dragging Rachel stepped with grandeur
over the police officer’s stabbed body to the bench with his weaponry. He
tossed Rachel to one of his subjects and after wearing his purple jacket one of
his goons held for him he began immediately load his weapons in the countless
secret pockets.
Harvey rushed to him but he was immediately surrounded by goons.
“Let Rachel go” he said completely unfazed “I’ll come with you.”
“Veeeeeery gallant but nooooo. Brucey completes me completely…” he said
regretful “maybe in another lifetime.” He took Rachel again and strutted like
Napoleon to the entrance; he turned to the mob of criminals. “Children, don’t
kill Harvey. Let him free to enjoy the show! Brucey - Doo, where are you?”
 
Bruce wore his leather jacket feeling utterly exhausted but relieved at the
same time because the examinations were finally done and Leslie discharged him;
that discharge card felt like the medicine degree.
Alfred had left him dress and went to make the final arrangements and gather
the prescriptions the various doctors have given him. He was so irritated that
he wanted to laugh; there was just no chance he’d take all these medicines
except from the supplements and the antibiotics for… He sighed.
Rectal and throat gonorrhea… That’s what Dr. Martinez said. That’s what the
swabs showed. Fuck! What did he expect, really? To be clean after all these
years? After all these… images threatened to flood his mind but he shut them
out.
“Like a real slut…” he thought hearing the diagnosis and Leslie’s hurt eyes
told him that he actually uttered the words.
“Sluts don’t get gonorrhea, Bruce…” she whispered. “Rape victims do…”
Dr. Martinez looked at him sad.
“At least we caught it before leading to something worse; it’ll take some
antibiotics and some follow up tests but you’ll be clean.”
He rolled his eyes: clean… He’d never be clean: the filth would never leave his
cells.
He looked outside at the evening sky; at least he would be free to patrol the
city tonight and investigate. Tony hadn’t come all day… His friend needed some
‘time off’ to be with normal people.
Someone knocked the door, probably Alfred.
“Com’, Alfred”
The door burst open and Tony pulled out the driver hat he wore and bowed.
“Ya called a cab?”
Bruce’s face formed a broad grin and felt his eyes glowing, he was so happy
seeing Tony jubilant again that wanted to hug him but he restrained himself. So
Tony surged and hugged him instead.
“You must not show such enthusiasm because they’d overcharge you, buddy.”
“The driver is value for money…” he was still smiling but he cringed a bit
causing Tony’s puzzlement. “I have gonorrhea, Tony…” he said looking his friend
in the eyes.
Tony lifted his brows sarcastic.
“You don’t impress me…” he purged his lips.
Bruce’s eyes widened.
“You had gonorrhea?! Tony, you…you had unsafe sex?!”
Tony hadn’t had unsafe sex neither gonorrhea in his frantic sex life but he
would say anything to soothe his friend’s uneasiness. He lolled his head in
mock thought.
“Not exactly… but, you see, kiddo, there aren’t condoms for the mouth… Mmmm…
That will be a catchy new market!” Bruce gaped and Tony laughed. “The important
thing is that you can’t get it with hugs and it is gone after you take your
antibiotics. And your black beauty awaits you outside.”
“You brought the car? But how? I thought only I could drive it…”
Tony scratched his head.
“Well… For safety reasons I kept some access…”
Tony brushed his friend’s upper arms and Bruce looked him solemnly.
“Tony, are you alright?”
Of course Bruce had noticed his mood last night, Tony thought.
“You steal my lines, little guy” he attempted to divert the discussion but
Bruce’s eyes weren’t fooled. “I was a bit tired last night and…” he shook his
head “I think it was something with my hormones” he furrowed his brows “Do you
think I’m climacteric?” Bruce smiled and Tony patted him in the back.
“Everything is fine now. Did the doctors rough you up?”
Bruce sat on the mattress and Tony at the chair.
“They were enthusiastic about my shape and overall condition but each one found
something and gave me some medicine…” he rolled his eyes.
“Which you won’t take, right?”
“Only the necessary; even if I wanted to take all these chemicals my stomach
would have been so full that it couldn’t contain anything else.”
Tony tilted his head on the side and pouted his lips.
“Not that you eat much… Anyway you’ll have to fight with Al for that…” he sang
and widened his eyes in emphasis. “Your boy was on TV again.”
Bruce looked at him puzzled and Tony smirked.
“My boy?” he understood to whom Tony referred but his?
“He saved a Japanese ship and stopped a tsunami before devastating the
coastline fish villages; Japanese government is honoring him all day.”
Bruce tried to keep his gaze cool but Tony smiled seeing the pride in his
friend’s eyes.
“Are you so proud of me too?” he pouted in mock jealousy.
“Is not pride, Tony” Bruce snapped. “It’s relief; stopping a tsunami means that
his powers endure…”
Speaking of Superman’s powers finally Tony could tell his news; the reason he
didn’t come earlier. And that was both good news and bad news; he felt a knot
in his stomach.
Bruce was studying him, already suspecting that he wanted to say something.
“You don’t have to worry about him anymore” Tony finally said and Bruce stood
anxious to hear. “We’re almost there, buddy; soon we’ll have his antidote.” The
next part however was difficult: Tony licked his lips and blinked.
“Give me the bad news now…” he said determined.
Tony stretched his lips and looked at the floor.
“Promise me that you won’t go again to the caverns” his voice was lowered as he
lifted his eyes to Bruce who lolled his head.
“What this has to do…”
Tony stood abruptly and grabbed his upper arms.
“Can you promise me that simple thing?” he pleaded looking him in the eyes.
Now Bruce was irritated.
“No, I can’t; the caverns are crucial to me, I spent most of my life there:
they were my world, I could be free there. Will you tell me now?”
Tony growled and rubbed the bridge of his nose, clutching his waist.
“Okay… Well, we followed your idea about the stone being used for the
substance’s creation” Bruce nodded encouragingly. “And you’re right; the stone
gave one of the substance’s ingredients…” he sighed.
“Tony…”
“Alright! The veins that cross the kryptonite are not of onyx.”
“Spinel, Hematite, Agate…”
“You’re a gemologist?” Bruce’s frustration was so obvious that he stopped. “It
is your blood that runs the kryptonite, Bruce.”
The younger man narrowed his eyes to slits and glared at his friend.
“If this is a joke it’s not the time, Tony; I completed almost ten hours of
medical tests, at least ten strangers touched my body, they took from me blood,
urine, tissue and samples from my ass and I was interrogated up to if I ever
had an erection. So cut the crap!”
Tony pressed his lips.
“I wish it was joke… But we analyzed it and it was your blood, Bruce; it was
liquid inside the stone, buddy…And the substance became normal for your cells
because it contained your blood. Your blood intensifies the stone’s radiation.”
He grabbed his temple and sighed frustrated; he just couldn’t believe that Tony
was saying such bullshit and that Lucius let him believe it.
“Tony, get a grip…” he detached himself from Tony’s hands. “It probably is some
mineral with a lot of iron in it that resembles my blood, or something like
this… you and Lucius are the scientists…”
Tony shook his head.
“Bruce, we checked it many times; it wasn’t easy for us to accept. But it is…
And you said that in your flashback…”
There we are… Bruce thought annoyed.
“Nightmare, Tony, not a flashback; it wasn’t real!”
However Tony locked his eyes with Bruce’s, his eyebrows furrowed.
“That demon in your flashback drank your blood and then placed the stone in
your navel, right?” he stressed his words solemnly.
Bruce felt waves of nausea and dizziness yet he gritted his teeth.
“Minerals are found in mines and take centuries to be made; ugh! Tony! You
can’t believe this nonsense!”
“Kryptonite isn’t a mineral of the earth substratum.”
“Still…”
Tony crossed his hands on the chest.
“The night Al Ghul attacked you at the Manor and Superman tried to stop him, he
used a simple Kryptonite; if he had the special kryptonite he’ll have used it
to kill Superman and get you. What if they couldn’t find it in the old mines
and were looking for that special variety for that they had various foundations
in African countries?”
Bruce didn’t lift his eyes from the floor; he was inhaling slow and deep to
control his anger.
“That’s reasonable but still doesn’t fit the demon version.”
“The stone isn’t older than twelve years, Bruce…” he understood his friend’s
distraught yet they couldn’t close their eyes to the facts; he stretched his
hand to touch him.
Bruce flinched angrily and shook his head stubbornly.
“It can’t be! Twelve years are way too few! You made something wrong!” Tony was
breathing hard, biting his lip because under the anger could discern the pain;
Bruce grabbed Tony’s upper arms and looked him in the eyes. “You can’t believe
in demons; you’re a scientist! Your thinking is free from superstitions!”
“I fight side by side with a God, Bruce” he said mildly.
“People were calling gods men or women with special, impressive abilities.
Take…take… Hercules and Alexander the Great in ancient Greece: due to their
remarkable feats they were considered gods and had their own occult; the same
with Pharaohs in Egypt. And…and even Superman is considered a semi god, and I’m
sure that some tribes worship him…” he smiled. “Thor has extraordinary powers
and it’s a god yet that doesn’t mean that angels and demons exist…”
Tony snorted.
“You should have a discussion with him some day…”
Bruce closed his eyes; Tony wasn’t convinced.
“Bruce, promise me you won’t wander the caverns again…You told me that the
demon bragged that he saw you in the caverns.”
Fuss invaded the room from the foyer and Bruce rushed to the door, opening to
hear the live broadcast from GCN. The newscaster relayed the news of Joker’s
and at least fifty criminals’ escape and that Rachel Dawes was held hostage.
Tony stared at Bruce.
“She was odd, huh?”
“You see, why I can’t stop wander the caverns?” he pressed a button on his
wrist watch. “I sent the car to the Manor; Alfred will cover me from the
officers that’ll rush there…” he surged to the corridor yet Tony grabbed him.
“We’ll chase him together.”
“You shouldn’t be connected with Batman. You must be discreet.”
“Discreet is my middle name” he smiled. “And I’ll come with you down.”
Bruce smirked.
“No, you’re not for the caverns; it’s my world and as you believe I have very
intimate relationships with the residents. We’ll meet outside the MCU.”
Tony sighed and let Bruce go.
***** Chapter 36 *****
Clark was sprawled on his small bed in his hotel room in Gotham the low humming
and the lights from the street lulling him. He should be outside patrolling
Gotham, Metropolis, the world... But after the fight with the tsunami and the
honoring ceremonies and the journey back he felt exhausted. And it was an odd
feeling; he never felt like this before and he had given much more difficult
battles in the past. Superman just couldn’t feel fatigue, could he? Neither
could he get jetlagged… The oddest thing, however, was that he was enjoying
it...
He was sleeping and it was the deepest sleep he ever experienced; he wasn’t a
human, he didn’t need that kind of sleep. But that evening he was fast asleep
like a common man and his ears weren’t hearing the roar of the world but the
giggles of a child. And he was smiling in his sleep.
It was like the sound of a stream for a thirsty man, louder as he ascended the
hill; the sun shone blindingly making his body fill with energy and excitement.
He could see the small figure standing in the peak of the hill, giggling as the
bigger boy was getting closer.
“Why you walk when you can fly?” the younger boy asked and his voice was so
smooth; he was still too young for his voice to start getting hoarse.
“I want to be like the others...” he could see every detail in the boy’s face
and his unique eyes that shone jubilant.
The boy giggled again and Clark gaped at the sound; it was the most beautiful
sound he had heard as Alfred had described it.
“You’re not like the others, Clark: you’re different, you’re nice, you’re
strong and you can’t get hurt...” Bruce’s voice became sad and Clark couldn’t
stand it.
“I’m hurt whenever you’re hurt, Bruce...” he said solemnly to the boy, staring
at his sapphire-emerald eyes although he was much taller than the boy.
The boy’s grin was broad but Clark could see the pain and the bruises under his
ragged clothes.
“Don’t stop laughing, Bruce; your laughter is beautiful! Is like the sun that
charges my body...”
The boy laughed and was ecstasy; like the world was rinsed from its ugliness
and pain despite the fact that this laughter came from a bruised face.
“Clark, you’re teasing me!” he protested.
He put his hands on the boy’s shoulders.
“I’m not, Bruce; your laughter is beautiful and you...” he was six years older
than the boy but he felt even older, towering so much his figure. “You...you’ll
be a gorgeous man when you grow up and I’ll be so proud watching you
blossom...” to become ready for my love, he thought.
But the younger boy giggled.
“You’re beautiful, Clark; I’m ugly and I won’t be beautiful. I’m too short:
everyone in my class is taller and they jeer me.”
Clark darkened.
“They’re jealous; they are taller because you’re the youngest in the class and
they are envious because you’re the cleverest.”
The boy blushed and smiled.
“But I’m short for my age, Clark; what if I don’t grow more?”
Was Clark’s turn to laugh: to hear something like that from Bruce... He was a
gifted child but still a child.
“Then you’ll always be my baby!” he hugged the frail little body and began
tickling him relishing the giggles and the jubilant expression on that battered
face.
Clark’s lips hovered over those rosy, tiny lips and Bruce stopped laughing.
“Clark, I want to fly...like you...”
He took off immediately with the boy in his hug protected in his strong hands.
But the boy wasn’t afraid even though he was flying for the first time. Instead
he spread his small hands like a little bird that was making its first attempt
to fly. He was smiling and he had closed his eyes in delight as the warm wind
caressed his face.
Clark held gently his waist and positioned him horizontal like a bird, his
spread hands like wings, the air waving his silken hair which shone in the sun.
Clark submerged his nose to his locks to suck the aroma. The boy’s brain waves
showed bliss and tranquility, as if he was really flying.
“Clark, do you want to be my first?” the boy whispered keeping his eyes shut
and Clark felt his breath halt in his chest.
“It will be my pleasure and my honor, Bruce...” he answered softly in his ear.
Bruce made a little sound like laughter but it was so bitter, so filled with
pain that Clark’s eyes became wet with tears.
“It’s too late for that, Clark... Can you give me back my first time? Can you
take the pain away?”
“I will, Bruce...” he let his cheek be caressed by the soft locks.
Clark could hear the fuss as a distant hostile force yet he didn’t want to wake
and lose the feeling of Bruce’s body in his hands, the intoxicating smell of
his hair, his warmth, the echo of Bruce’s laughter; the joy of finally being
able to share his childhood with Bruce despite the fact that Bruce was already
battered; he just couldn’t desert the child to his fate…
 
Selina clad in Catwoman’s costume stood on the ledge of a rooftop watching the
traffic ready to jump to the ground when a light sound as if a bird had just
landed on the cement made her turn. She already knew who was and smiled without
expecting an answering smile from Batman’s solemn mouth.
“You must stay away from this” he growled and her eyes darkened.
“I have unsettled business with him!” she answered.
“Me too.”
“You can’t give me orders!”
Batman walked calmly towards her.
“I don’t” he answered and deactivated the lenses revealing his real eyes to
her. “But I don’t want you to be connected with Batman or Bruce Wayne; neither
to draw their attention.”
She shook her head, her hands clutching her waist.
“You give them too much value…” she spat.
Batman put his hand on her shoulder.
“If you want to help Bruce it’s better to stay unnoticed. They must remain
unaware of your existence so you can be our secret asset. Let Joker to me; we
know that they are watching and we must keep our cards closed. They must not
know about you.”
Selina rolled her eyes.
“Always the strategist… Or you’re just trying to keep all the fun for you and
Tony” she sighed.
Batman looked her in the eyes.
“They already know about Tony but they ignore your connection with me: I can’t
be sure about how much they know about Batman. Plus, I don’t want them wary
that we have such a considerable ally. If they not know about you they won’t
try to neutralize you and you will be able to take them by surprise: after all,
the cat waits patiently for her catch.”
She turned towards the void crossing her hands on the chest.
“I feel like the pawn in your chessboard…”
Batman approached her and put his hands on her shoulders.
“You’re my Queen.”
She tilted her head to the side and smiled.
“You sycophant… But I doubt that Tony was flattered to be called a Queen…” she
dragged her words, smiling and turned towards the void. “But I’ll be watching
and if something goes awry, I’ll intervene and kick Joker’s sorry ass.”
“Deal!”
She turned to him but was met with thin air; she shook her head amused and
lolled her head backwards. She thought that she was able to hear him but
obviously only when he wanted to.
Her eyes searched the cloudy moonless sky and found the giant bat slicing
Gotham’s sky gracious like a real bird.
“Be careful…” she sighed and jumped with a somersault to the rooftop of the
opposite building.
The built-in the wall safe of the bedroom gave a happy sound and with a pop its
small round steel door opened, blinding her with the glow the contents
emanated. Selina whistled awed and caressed with her gloved hand the jewels in
it: diamond bracelets, pearl necklaces, ruby rings, emerald earrings.
She was 23 years old, already a veteran thief but that was THE catch and she
would snatch many thousands for herself and the people in need.
“Sorry for spoiling it for you, babe” a macho voice sneered and Selina turned
stretching graciously her silhouette.
In front of the ajar bedroom’s door stood a giant of 6’ 6’’ who apparently was
the head henchman leading the other five thugs who were similarly big- built.
They worked for the big time drug dealer whose house she had broke into and
they held Uzis pointing at her.
She smiled seductively and lifted an eyebrow.
“Such a welcome committee for me? I’m flattered, boys!” she laced her words
with sweetness.
The head henchman with the shoulders like a closet tilted his head and
sniggered.
“You surely deserve that, doll; and we’ll have some fun before sending you to
meet the fish.”
She crossed her hands and lifted her eyebrow sarcastic.
“You’re not my type, handsome… And I have already a date so I must leave your
charming company…” she made a motion but stopped abruptly when the closet-man
armed his gun.
“Not so fast, kitty; everyone knows about the cat-thief and my boss will be
pleased when I brought him your hide.”
Selina smiled.
“Cats have fur not hide, handsome…”
He laughed and leaned his head staring at her body which was exceptionally
impressive in the shining form fitting black leather.
“I want to pet your ‘fur’, sugar…”
Her eyes flared up and her brows rose.
“And what are you waiting for, boy? Don’t be shy…” she made her voice promising
although she felt disgust and eagerness to break his penis.
The others laughed and their leader approached the young woman smirking keeping
his gun clutched in his enormous hand. He cupped Selina’s jaw and brought his
lips to hers, the gunpoint touching the girl’s temple that was covered from her
leather eye-mask.
“My gun will taste your hungry pussy, bitch…” he growled, rasping.
“I’m a cat, su-” she gritted her teeth and her knee sank in his groin making
him scream “-gar!”
Taking advantage of his pain and momentary dizziness she grabbed the wrist of
the hand with the gun and twisted it in his back, dislocating his shoulder and
relishing the crashing sound of his wrist. She turned the flesh mountain in
front of her to use him as a shield which was wise because the whole wall
window broke in thousand little shards and something…- Selina squint her eyes
to discern – black enveloped the other goons.
It was like a ghost, a shadow that smashed the gigantic bodies of the goons
with… fists, elbows and feet. She looked amazed as the black creature’s foot
broke the kneecap of one the same time that his right elbow catapulted a
stomach and his … horned head butted a head while his legs back kicked a chest
sending an enormous body to land in the glass fireplace.
She was so dumbfounded by the smooth and gracious movements of the shadow that
didn’t run there to share the fun or flee given that she didn’t know the
creature’s intentions towards her. The ox in her hands grunted as awed as she.
And also scared. Selina smashed his head on the wall and let him slump on the
floor.
When she raised her head the black creature was in front of her and she gasped.
It was a giant bat with white burning eyes; the goons piled before the door,
moaning and whining definitely with a lot of broken bones.
“We must leave” he – it was a ‘he’ – snapped and his voice was like the
rattling of metal on metal.
She didn’t know what this was, she even felt fear for it but she decided to
follow after she grabbed some of the jewels: she didn’t want to have a
completely wasted night.
The being grunted impatiently and grabbed her wrist stopping her before getting
the last pieces from the safe and dragged her along.
“Easy…Handsome?” she wondered.
As they reached the window more thugs burst in the room alerted from the
commotion and several shots cracked the silence.
She knew that she couldn’t dodge the bullets at the angle her body was and
braced herself for the pain. Yet she felt strong hands wrapping her fiercely
and the creature’s broad armored chest touched hers; she felt the violent
impact of the bullets but it was the creature’s back that took them. Her eyes
bulged because she expected him to collapse but he instantly dived from the
broken glass and holding her tight with his right hand pointed at the building
across with a strange looking gun using the other hand and their free fall was
immediately halted.
The creature keeping her glued on his body maneuvered them through the
buildings and finally landed on a rooftop. He touched Selina gently on the
concrete and withdrew his hand.
Selina however wasn’t so hasty to detach herself. That creature was a new
player in Gotham’s field and a significant one so he could help Bruce, since he
was so sensitive to save people from criminals. And from what she could discern
from his uncovered face and his armored body he was a hunk.
“You should be more careful” he said with his hoarse voice. “They know about
the master cat-thief and they want to kill you.”
“Thanks; I’ll keep it in mind.” She stared at him appraising with half closed
eyes. “You know that your voice is sexy?” she smiled because she could sense
that the being blushed and that was fun.
She brought her finger to his lips: they were very beautiful and the jaw
unforgettable.
“A girl has her own way to thank her knight…” she whispered in her mystical
way. “And I think that the pleasure will be mutual…Handsome…”
Her lips approached more his and when she was ready to close her eyes and enjoy
the feeling she saw a shy smile; so familiar and so beloved in its rarity.
“Selina!” the voice lost the hoarseness and became suave and shocked.
Her eyes widened and felt her cheeks redden.
“Bruce?!”
 
“B, Gordon sent Bullock and Montoya at the Manor” Tony relayed to Batman
hovering at Gotham’s sky. “SWAT members have dispersed in the city to catch the
fugitives; Gordon leads the officers who chase Joker but the loony lost them.
They report that the clown stole the gun that was used at the attack on the
Wayne Tower.”
Batman was perched on a crouched gargoyle overlooking the main street leading
to the Narrows. He had used his cowl’s system to hack the police’s frequency
into following the patrol car Joker took to escape and then when the cunning
clown abandoned that car he hacked Dagget’s surveillance system to get access
to the camera on the spot. He wanted to see the new vehicle the clown would
use.
A van was already waiting there and took off immediately with Joker, his freed
henchmen and Rachel. He was watching the van’s route using Google Earth but
hearing about the gun he figured out instantly where the madman would head.
Wayne Manor. The gun would help him destroy the security and invade the Manor.
“Tony, can you scan the city for explosive devices?”
“Why?”
“It is obvious that he is heading for Wayne Manor. Too obvious and with him the
obvious is too dangerous. He knows that we’ll figure out so he’ll attempt a
diversion. And he loves explosions, chaos and killing innocent people.”
 Tony frowned.
“How could he make that since he just escaped?”
Batman set his jaw.
“He set it before the attack on Wayne Tower: he wanted to be arrested to free
his goons; so he organized that beforehand.”
Tony launched.
“Do you want me to search for anything in particular?”
“Everything: bombs, nitroglycerin, TNT, camping gas, anything; Tony, I sent you
photos of Joker’s laughing gas bombs”.
“Laughing gas bombs?” Tony exclaimed dumbfounded.
“They are of his creation and emanate gas that provokes laughter to the victim
until he/she dies from laughter; unfortunately I didn’t have the chance to
analyze more.”
“No problem; I got the pictures.”
Batman uttered the message to be sent to Jim’s cell phone via the special
software:
“Joker heads to the Chelsea Bridge; stop the traffic. B.”
Jim on receiving the message hit his fist on the patrol car’s passenger seat
causing the startled stare of the driver.
“He is heading to Palisades, Wayne Manor” Jim said to the microphone of the
radio informing the units that participated to the chase. “Cut the traffic to
and from Chelsea Bridge; don’t cause panic!”
He had some sweat drops on his forehead and his eyes looked frantically at the
street while the rookie driver made a sharp turn changing their course to
Chelsea Bridge.
The madman wanted Wayne and wouldn’t stop before he got what he wanted. He had
sent Bullock and Montoya there and the estate had high security but Wayne Tower
also had and that didn’t thwart Joker. Damn! At least, Batman was there and
Ironman would be watching the Wayne heir.
 
Alfred opened the door with his usual butler attitude – polite but cool. He
already knew the identity of their late guests – it was almost ten in the night
– because the only way someone could pass the estate’s gates was showing his/
her ID to the camera for Alfred to permit their entrance.
“Good evening, Detective Montoya and Lieutenant Bullock. How can I help you?”
They were showing their budges although Alfred had seen them through the
camera.
“Mr. Wayne left the clinic and came to the Manor without informing his detail”
Bullock answered broody and Montoya cast him a lopsided gaze.
Alfred raised both his eyebrows.
“We didn’t know you had a detail on him.”
Bullock’s plump face blushed.
“Can we see Mr. Wayne?”
Of course Alfred thought; he was prepared for that kind of request.
“I’m afraid, sir and miss that he is sleeping right now: his doctor advised him
to get many hours of qualitative sleep and prescribed him sleeping pills.
Unfortunately, I don’t think that I could wake him up. It is something urgent?”
Montoya hasted to answer sensing her partner’s frustration.
“It’s alright, Mr. Pennyworth; but we must stay at the Manor because Joker
escaped and we need to be cautious.”
Alfred paled.
“Oh, my! Do you reckon that he will try to attack my young master again?”
Bullock’s eyes hardened.
“Relax, Mr. Pennyworth; we’re her’. We won’t let that nutcase get near Mr.
Wayne” the tough cop reassured the butler.
Alfred smiled.
“Thank you, sir! But… oh, my! Where are my manners?” he let them in. “Please,
do come in and make yourselves comfortable” he showed them to the huge salon.
“I’m cooking some cupcakes; young master Wayne loves them for breakfast. I
would like to have your opinion.”
Bullock grunted his satisfaction and Montoya smirked.
 
Batman was more familiar with the Chelsea Tunnel, in particular the caverns
under the tunnel, than with the Bridge, yet he loved the skies as much as the
underground. And as he stood on the peak of the central of the bridge’s four
towers he enjoyed the air’s whipping on his face, the distant sounds of
Gotham’s frantic rhythms and Palisades’ calm, the view of the city’s skyline
and lights from the 150 feet. He felt as if he was looking to a beautiful
painting colored with sounds and scents and his love for that city flared up.
The Chelsea Bridge wasn’t the longest or the tallest of Gotham’s suspension
bridges but its daily traffic was considerable. He hoped that police would
manage to stop the traffic before the bridge so that Joker wouldn’t suspect
that they were on his tracks and no civilian would be in danger.
“B, you’re right” Ironman’s voice was worried. “I located plenty of explosive
devices and still I have the half city to scan.”
“Can you defuse them?”
“They are of various types among them those silly bombs you told me; my defuse
software includes 100 different explosion systems. As for the laughing gas
bombs I’ll just get them to safe places.”
“Thank you, Tony; be very careful…” he cut the com abruptly seeing Joker’s van
getting on the deck; there were still some cars yet they would manage to cross
the bridge before the battle.
“B, do you hear me?’’ Tony inquired but he was answered by noise; he was sure
that Bruce had seen the Joker and his urge was to rush there however he said
that he will be discreet and also he had some bombs to neutralize and quickly
because they were placed in public spots with many people around. “Be careful,
buddy” he muttered and dived towards the City Hall’s rooftop where he located
the first device.
Batman squatted and watched as the purple van crossed frenzied the bridge; he
was estimating and concentrating as the van approached the central tower. And
then he dived vertically his cape operating like a parachute and landed
graciously crouching at the Bridge’s lane that led to the Palisades. He lifted
his head and he fixed his fire lenses on the approaching van that was mere feet
away from him; Joker was at the wheel and their eyes locked, the clown stopping
his enthusiastic giggles under the fierce stare of the lenses but without
lowering the speed.
At the other end of the driver’s cabin sat a goon and in the middle was slumped
Rachel with her eyes puffy. The goon awed gaped at the now standing Bat; the
Bat’s cape waving like real wings, his eyes piercing them.
“He is a demon!” he whispered flabbergasted.
“He’s dead!” Joker yelled “nobody plays chicken with the Joker!” he stepped on
it.
But the Bat didn’t flinch; his jaw set, his fists loose at his sides.
Catwoman seeing Batman landing on the deck climbed easily the tower’s
foundation and watched Joker’s van approaching her friend’s squatted form. Her
eyes widened as she realized that her friend wouldn’t leave his ground.
“What are you doing?!” she whispered with dread.
Her eyes bulged and her hand covered unconsciously her mouth as the van hit the
black figure.
Joker however had pursed his lips frustrated, his eyes glistening crazily. He
had restored the few parts of his makeup that was washed away from the hardship
of his arrest.
“Ya hit him, boss?” the goon asked gaping.
Joker’s eyes were focused on the road searching.
“Idiot! There wasn’t any impact…” he snapped.
“He’s a ghost then?”
Rachel hardly held a laugh and Joker lolled his head sideways casting a
poisonous, warning glare to the goon who shut immediately his mouth.
“I must stop shopping on the sales…” he shook his head disappointed.
Catwoman smiled widely seeing a black blur rise from the deck to the air like a
real bat exactly the millisecond that the van would have crushed him. Her eyes
widened in admiration as the black blur landed on the roof of the moving
vehicle at his feet stretching his black armored body.
Batman knew that inside the van’s damping bed sat Joker’s thugs armed waiting
to spread chaos. He walked calmly the roof’s length as if the van was immobile,
kneeled and used the diamond blades of his gloves to cut a hole to the metal.
He slid through the hole in front of the dumbfounded eyes of the goons.
Some of them pointed their guns to the being with the fires in his eyes yet
Batman surged to them knocking them out simultaneously; both of his palms hit
the pressure point on two necks and his elbow smashed a jaw with such force
that the back of the goon’s head crushed to the van’s wall.
Clearly Joker’s thugs weren’t the smartest in the market because the seven left
instead of firing rushed to stop Batman and in the narrow space of the damping
bed they were confused.
Batman didn’t want to hurt them much because they were mentally ill. So he used
the pressure points to knock them out without breaking many bones; he didn’t
expect to stay unnoticed and in fact the van’s abrupt halt was what he wanted.
The only thing he didn’t like was that the gun Joker used to attack Wayne Tower
wasn’t there. He pressed his lips yet without losing time came out of the hole
in the roof exactly as Joker turned to look from the window with the difference
that the van didn’t have a transparent wall.
Joker cursed loudly and stepped out of the driver’s cabin taking with him the
gun that Batman looked for; it was like a bazooka but was too small the size of
an Uzi and light.
“Watch her!” he spat to his goon.
But as soon as Joker made some steps towards the back side of the van Batman
who was kneeled on the cabin’s roof whooshed to the driver’s seat, grabbed
Rachel and launched to the cables, holding her in bridal style.
“Boss?” the thug trembled and Joker came back running. “He…he took her…” his
amazed eyes looked at his boss yet they were still seeing the black ghost.
“Moron!” Joker spat and pointed the odd gun at him.
Batman crouched on the deck and put Rachel gently down; she was staring at him
confused and he realized that she was in shock.
“You’re safe; stay here” he rasped and was relieved that there was no car
crossing the bridge right now.
Joker tilted his head to the side and smiled maniac to his goon.
“It’s time to see what this babe does to a…” he scratched his head staring his
goon. “Human?”
He was ready to press the word ‘FIRE’ on the touch screen the thing had on when
something powerful crushed his hands sending the gun flying feet away and
immediately Joker found himself flat on the cement trapped under an unmoving
mass.
He saw just a blur before a fist made of stone sank in his mouth and then at
his nose that Joker understood that broke flooding his face with blood that
splashed from a new punch. Joker giggled.
“Stop, loooove! Haaalt! Time out!” but Batman hammered his guts instead without
managing to stop the clown’s screeching laughter. “Uuuuuuuuu! Batsy-babe, this
is what I call paaaaassion! Hit me more, kinky boy! MUHA-MUHA-MUHAHAHAHA!”
Batman stopped; his lenses stabbing Joker’s frenzied eyes. Joker lolled his
head to the side and rolled his eyes disappointed.
“I get it; if I like it, you don’t… Com’ on, Batsy; what is it? Tell it to papa
Joker…” he made his nasal voice soothing. “You’re jealous that I did gootsie-
gootsie with Brucey? You’re welcome to play with us the next time…”
However Batman was hearing only one thing, the voice of a boy in pain:
“I want to play again with Brian…If you’re really sorry for my family you’ll
kill Joker!”
He grabbed Joker’s greasy hair with both hands and smashed his head on the
concrete but the clown just laughed. Just laughed, just laughed… He killed
these people, he tortured a little child, he destroyed a boy’s life and he was
just laughing! But he still couldn’t melt his head on the road…
Selina watched Rachel walking on the edge of the deck.
“What is she doing?”
“Oh! Batsy-baby, you’re not only making me feel butterflies in my stomach I
also see them flying… HAHAHAHAHA! Youuuuuu make me happy when skies are…” he
sang and Batman struck once again his nose.
A woman’s scream made Batman jolt. Rachel… In an instant he left Joker and
surged to the deck’s edge. The girl in a state of shock and confusion tried to
run away and fell. Without a thought he dived after her: the height was big and
even if she didn’t die hitting the water, she would drown or freeze.
Joker stood staggering, once falling again on his knee, He shook his head.
“Uuuuuuuuu! Noooooothing better to feel alive! Now where was I before the cute
interruption? Ah! The gun…” he walked to the gun that lay few feet away still
staggering a bit. “Break me, Shake me, hate me, take me, fake me…” he sang the
Savage Garden song.
He squatted to grab the gun when he sensed a slight disturbance. He frowned.
“Not so fast, dork!”
“Ow! Anooooother one pissed for me smooching with Brucey. Heeeeello, people!”
he screamed with his back still turned to the newcomer. “He isn’t a virgin!”
“I’ll blow you up, freak!”
“Aaaaaand this will be the charming…”
Batman grabbed Rachel’s waist a few feet before she hit the river’s surface; he
hugged her one handed on his chest and with the other hand pointed his grapple
gun at the tower and fired. The cable twisted around the metal tower, halted
them abruptly just before hitting into the water and pulled them upwards.
He helped Rachel who was trembling sit on the concrete and brushed her pale
face that was tearstained.
“You’re okay now” he whispered gravely. “Relax, help is coming.”
He heard the tires of a car screeching and yanked his head.
Joker turned holding the gun ready to shoot.
“…Mr. Stark! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” he touched the ‘FIRE’ indication aiming at the
Ironman and shook his head. “I never bought that ‘friendship’ nonsense.”
Tony saw an odd almost invisible wave coming so rapidly at him that it was on
him before he had the time to launch; just the millisecond before the impact
something toppled him to the ground saving him from the wave which immediately
melted the cables that held the bridge.
Joker walked unfazed to the van.
“You’re delaying me, people…” he mumbled irritated as a nightmarish sound
filled the quietness reminding of a ship ready to sink. “My love is waiting…”
Batman felt the vibration from the collapse of the cables and Rachel screamed
hearing the sound of the bridge’s slight lean.
Harvey completely indifferent, his eyes focused only on Rachel rushed from his
car to the spot where Batman held Rachel.
“Take her away…” Batman snapped.
Harvey nodded.
“Leave her to me!” he hugged her and supported her to stand. “Rachel, it’s
Harvey…” he whispered to her as he lead her to his car.
He placed Rachel on the passenger seat, fastened her belt and settled on the
driver’s seat wheeling the car towards the end of the bridge that lead to the
city.
The young woman was sobbing and Harvey was constantly staring at her with
agony.
“Hold on, Rachel; I’ll take you to a hospital.”
Yet she leaned on him and nestled her head on his shoulder making him shudder.
“Please… Not a hospital… My room…”
Harvey nodded and passed police’s barrier.
Batman ran towards the van that was already on the move, looking around.
Tony raised his head and saw Catwoman’s face above his, her delicious breasts
highlighted by the tight leather brushing his armor.
“I wish I wore something lighter!” he sighed. “My skin… It seems you’re my
bodyguard after all!”
“Iron boy, cut the crap!” Selina snapped and jolted upwards, Tony looking
stunned her long curvy legs above him before she moved.
She wanted to do as Bruce told her and not reveal herself but Tony had been in
danger. At least there wasn’t a crowd and the madman didn’t give a second
glimpse to Tony after the shot.
“Ironman!” Batman yelled diving at the moving van. “Secure the bridge!”
“Always the chores!” Tony shook his head disapproving and flew to the cables.
“Tony, that; Tony, this…”
Batman hooked on the passenger’s side of the van opened the door and threw away
the goon. He stretched his hand to catch the gun on the van’s floor while Joker
grinding his teeth kicked him frantically on the hand and shoulder to stop him,
causing the van dancing uncontrollably.
Finally, the gun was tossed out and Batman grabbed Joker by the collar dragging
him outside, stopping the vehicle before it crashed on the bridge’s tower.
Tony was working on fusing the damage in the suspension cables replacing them
with alloy stashed in his armor for instantly repairing damages during battles.
The sinister slope stopped and the cables of the other towers weren’t
additionally burdened.
Selina had returned to the shadows exactly the moment the police’s helicopter
hovered over the area sending abundant light with its headlights.
Batman holding  Joker one handed by the collar came out of the van’s cabin
hoisting the madman, his teeth gritted.
Joker laughed.
“Uuuuuuuu! I think someone is maaaaaaad… and it’s not me…”
“It’s over!” he growled and threw him on the concrete.
Joker immediately sat and moved his index finger to the towering black clad
figure.
“Nah, nah, nah…it’s nooooooooot over… You see” he brought his hand to his waist
staring Batman lopsided “did I mention how impressive the way your cape floats
around you is?” he waved his hand imitating the ripples of the fabric. “Nah?
Well, nooooow I told you. What I was saying?” he pushed his green vest upwards
revealing a rectangular small detonator hooked at his belt. “I bet you’ll feel
very bad when thousands of citizens die because of your incompetence!
HAHAHAHAHA!” he pressed the button believing that Batman’s lack of reaction was
due to surprise. “One by one ten different buildings will go BOOM! Starting
about… NOOOOOW! TADAAAAAAA!”
Joker looked confused towards Gotham who seemed peaceful as ever. He searched
with his eyes for ‘fireworks’ and booming. He smirked, thinking and then
laughed loudly.
“Oh, daaaaarling! You’re a hell of a comedian! You took my joke and turned it
on me! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You’re really something, huh?”
Batman cast a fleeting glance at Gotham and looked again at the clown on his
feet.
“The police van awaits you: your career ends tonight.”
Joker pouted his lips and shook his head in refusal.
“Sorry to spoil it for you, Batsy-bear – Hey! I made a new species! -, but this
little box” he pointed the detonator “has a second little buuuuuutton” he
blinked cutely to the Bat.
Bruce’s eyes under the lenses widened and he fell on Joker trying to stop him
from hitting the button.
“Oi, darling! I’m in love too but I don’t act like that…” he tried to press the
button but Batman got his wrist and pinned it on the ground doing the same with
his other hand that was rapidly moving to the detonator.
And then Joker jolted his knee and submerged it in the middle of Batman’s
spread legs. The black clad being grunted and flinched only for a second still
this was enough for Joker to slip his hand from his grip and press the button.
The van’s front part was enveloped in flames which instantly spread backwards.
“That move I learnt from Brucey! HAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Batman pressing his lips punched him in the face and smacked his head on the
ground leaving him unconscious.
He stood though the pain in his pelvis was piercing; Tony landed beside him.
“I’ll take the van and tossed it to the river; it’ll explode in a few seconds.”
Batman’s lenses pierced him.
“There are people in there…” he growled and surged in the van’s back door.
“We don’t have time!” Tony yelled but his friend had already cut the metal with
the diamond blades that emerged from his gloves.
Tony made an exasperated sound yanking his head to the air and rushed behind
Batman to help him take out the thugs.
As soon as the last thug was out Tony heaved the van and launched above the
bridge tossing the burning vehicle to the water. He barely managed to dodge the
wave of fire and power from the explosion just before the mass sank to the
water.
Batman was watching anxious his friend’s effort relieved that the helicopter
stopped hovering there and flew towards the police’s barrier at the entrance of
the bridge.
He turned to the place where he had left Joker and the clown was gone; he heard
the man on the helicopter informing the land forces that the madman was heading
towards them and that they were chasing him by air.
Tony landed at his side.
“Are you alright?” Batman spat nonchalant hiding his agony.
“As a groom on his honeymoon!” he tilted his head and Batman snorted. “You?”
He just nodded and walked to the piled up goons to handcuff them. Tony hurried
to help.
“Do you think they’ll catch him?”
Batman’s jaw was set and his lips pressed; Tony understood that he was hearing
something from his cowl’s radio. Joker found an abandoned car just a few feet
before the police’s block and ran away on that ramming a couple of police cars
to clear the path.
“They lost him!” he growled and made to turn to the direction Joker went.
“Damn!”
Police sirens were fast approaching and Batman pointed his grapple gun at the
tower elevating himself. Tony stared upwards but couldn’t discern the black
figure although he turned on his night vision. Surely Batman was using some
‘chameleon’ technique to pass unnoticed to his bike that was parked near and
search for the Joker.
“Damn that ninja training!” he exclaimed impressed and took off himself
saluting the first cops bursting out of their cars. He wouldn’t let Bruce
alone.
 
It was the third time his smart phone was stubbornly ringing; he didn’t make
even a feeble effort to leave his dream to answer it because it was Perry and
frankly that moment he didn’t give a damn about the Planet or his job. But the
third time the tone was the one he had for Lois and she wouldn’t call him at
this hour if only for something really important. He didn’t have any vague
impression about the time only that it was still night.
He grunted frustrated and opened his eyes regretting leaving Bruce alone.
“Kent” he snapped at the phone.
“Where are you, farmboy?!”
Lois’ voice was loud and balancing between exasperation and worry.
“In Gotham of course” he rolled his eyes. “You called me from Moscow to ask me
that?!” he was utterly irritated.
But Lois was outraged by his calm.
“Perry is absolutely mad at you; he called me raving!”
He was puzzled and the fact that he just woke up from a wonderful dream didn’t
help.
“Com’ on, Lois, what does he want? I gave him an exclusive just 24 hours ago…”
He heard Lois sighing and he could imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose.
“And you just let the Planet without any coverage of the latest developments:
every major news outlet has its cover and the Planet just reposts…” she let the
air come out of her chest. “Where are you, Smallville? If you’re in Gotham you
wouldn’t have been surprised!”
Clark clutched his temple; Bruce? No, if something had happened to him he would
have felt it.
“I was a bit under the weather and slept. Can you tell me what happened?”
“Joker escaped, Clark, and you’re sleeping!”
His eyes bulged turning red: that man would surely target again his Star. Ugh!
Maybe he should kill him to protect Bruce once and for all.
“Clark?” she asked hesitantly.
“I…I’m on my way, Lois…” he changed his pajamas into his misfit suit in a spin.
“You lost the ‘Chelsea Bridge Battle’, Clark – not that any other reporter
caught a glimpse but is everyone’s headlight…” she heard the door shutting.
Clark ran outside though he’d preferred to fly.
“Chelsea Bridge?” he brought Gotham’s map in his mind. “He tried to get to
Wayne Manor?!”
“I think that was the plan but Batman and Ironman stopped him at the bridge and
busted his goons. But Joker escaped to the city and now police is looking for
him and the fifty dangerous scumbags he freed from the MCU.”
“Ok, Lois; I…I’ll cover it” he stuttered “I…I must hang up.”
“Good luck, Clark” she said sadly. “You’ll need it after the turd you did…”
Clark lolled his head backwards and sighed throwing the smart phone in his
large pocket. Definitely this job wasn’t for Superman.
…………………………………………………………………………………………
A couple of hours since he left his gloomy hotel room Clark opened his door
with a triumphant smile on his radiating face. He shut the door and pulled out
of his pocket his smart phone, his treasure. Now he was sure that the next time
he’ll spoke to Perry the editor not only wouldn’t fire him but also give him
high praise and maybe a raise.
He scrolled the videos on his smart phone’s screen and with glowing eyes
touched the ‘SEND’ for the latest video he had captured. His smile became even
broader when the video began playing knowing that what he was seeing was
already on the Planet’s site: the biggest exclusive of the last three years.
Under the heading “Batman saves girl; smashes giant killer”.
Batman racing on his monstrous bike chasing Joker halts abruptly obviously
noticing something and charges against Victor Zsasz who had attacked a young
woman and was ready to shred her to pieces with his two blades.
Victor Zsasz was held at the MCU’s cells and was one of the criminals Joker
freed during his escape. He was an unbelievably enormous man of approximately 7
feet height and 300 pounds weight.
The fight was utterly epic and even he, Superman, was watching stunned. Batman
was perfectly built but at 6’ 1’’ and 170 pounds he was far too small for that
giant. However he wasn’t even for once succumbed by the giant’s brutal force.
He was too agile, too fast, too gracious in his grips; it was as if you’re
watching a performance as perfect choreographed and executed as a ballet’s
dancer. But in speed; the video had to be played in slower motion for you to be
able to fully discern the artistic movements. And Clark was grateful he had a
large variety of visions to enjoy that spectacle... with or without any
clothes…
Fists, forearms, elbows, feet, legs, head, knees… Everything synchronized to
give constant hits to the killer who looked confused as to what was beating
him; confused and angry and scared. Zsasz hardly made any compact with Batman’s
weapon-body and though surely his hits were like a hammer’s the black clad man
continued completely unfazed. Till the giant’s last desperate attack in which
he clenched Batman’s waist trying to smash the bones only to find his
opponent’s legs wrapped around his neck twisting the gigantic body in the air
to crash it to the concrete. He pressed Zsasz’s neck with his heel and the
killer lay unconscious.
Batman handcuffed him and dragged him to the pavement where he tied the
criminal to the traffic light pillar for the approaching SWAT van that was
scourging the city for the fugitives to apprehend him. Then he took the crying
girl in his arms and left.
Clark was exhilarated: everyone in the world could see how majestic Batman was
and every scum would think it twice before attacking anyone in Gotham.
***** Chapter 37 *****
The unseen small hole on the wall gave a clear image of the room; it was Ra’s
Al Ghul’s meditation room, bare except for a small square wooden table and two
plain chairs.
Ra’s was sat in the chair nearest to the wall and his broad back was visible.
Opposite him the child at his sixteen now, a teenager though his appearance was
of younger age. He wore the simple training tunic, wrapped around him more
tightly than proper to cover every bit of his just bathed body; the lust in
Ra’s’ eyes made it clear that the boy’s still wet locks aroused him.
“Checkmate…” the boy said shyly with his shining eyes staring at his master’s
face.
Ra’s looked at the ancient chess board with the wooden carved pieces: Bruce’s
Pawn had reached Al Ghul’s end and became a Queen trapping his King. The older
man smirked realizing that indeed there was no escape for his King so toppled
his King himself, admitting his defeat.
Bruce didn’t dare to smile but in his eyes satisfaction glowed. Ra’s didn’t
like to lose battles even in Chess yet his face was soft enjoying the boy’s
content; it must be a very rare spectacle for him and one of great beauty.
Two years had passed since Ra’s took the boy under his wing and although he had
gained weight and muscle mass still he hadn’t the height of a sixteen year old.
The boy seeing his master’s glee lowered his eyes; the smile erased and
withdrew his hands from the table, knitting his fingers on his legs.
Ra’s cupped his chin and lifted gently Bruce’s head to see his eyes.
“I’m not angry…” he muttered soothingly. “I wanted you to play chess for
training your brain as well as your body.” He smiled benevolently. “Who taught
you to play?”
The teen tried to lower his eyes again but his master didn’t let him.
“My father…” he whispered. “But it was Alfred who played with me most of the
times due to my father’s heavy schedule.”
The lion-like man nodded smiling.
“Of course. The fine gentleman… That movement you made has high risk; it’s
better if you choose a safer strategy.”
Bruce blinked and pierced the older man with his eyes that shone decisively.
“It’s my favorite move: the insignificant Pawn crosses the entire chessboard,
reaches the hostile camp and becomes a Queen, the most powerful piece of the
board.”
Ra’s brushed the young face with his finger.
“It must be a unique and very talented Pawn to achieve that and not be
destroyed by the strong ones…” he smiled. “It’s wiser to focus on your Queen’s
tactic.”
The youth’s eyes glistened stubbornly.
“A piece’s strategy can be combined with another’s; and that’s the best
strategy to defeat your opponent: coordinating the moves of all your assets.
And it’s better to have two Queens instead of one.”
The passion was radiating from the boy’s eyes and Ra’s’ grin became broader.
“You’re a strategist then?” he raised his eyebrows and snorted.
Bruce lowered his eyes and shook his head in refusal: how could he claim
something like this or even think it? He was just a slave; a whore. Completely
useless.
“No, sir… I just…”
Ra’s rose from his chair and walked to the boy. He caressed his wet locks and
cupped his chin to yank gently his face.
“You just were thrilled defeating me…” he was smiling yet Bruce’s eyes filled
with terror.
He shook his head.
“No, sir; no…”
Ra’s’ expression became solemn and warm; his fingers brushed the young face
while his eyes locked with Bruce’s.
“Don’t be afraid, I’m not angry you prevailed: I’m happy that your mind is as
prolific as your body…Speaking of which…”
He pulled out of his tunic a small wooden flask with layers of leather; he
uncorked it and brought it to the youth’s lips. The boy flinched and Ra’s
frowned.
“You don’t trust me?!” he demanded and jerked upwards the lowered face.
Bruce nodded and opened his mouth to take the transparent liquid.
“You have been severely malnourished for many years making your organism
sensitive to injuries; your training is hard and if I don’t strengthen your
body you’ll be damaged before gaining durability” he smiled fondly. “You’re
still a frail flower but soon you’ll be a diamond!”
He corked the flask and hid it in his tunic. A gasp of surprise left the boy’s
lips when his master’s lethal hands grabbed his waist and heaved him.
Ra’s hugged one handed his student and cleared the table from the chess pieces
that scattered on the floor. He nibbled the boy’s ear, sitting him on the
chessboard table.
“I love the way your heart beats when I hug you…” his breath was already harsh.
“I’m aware that it is still from fear yet gradually you’ll learn to desire it
as much as I.”
The boy didn’t answer but his tremor was obvious as the enormous man cupped his
head with both palms and captured violently his mouth, kissing him
passionately, trying to suck every juice from the small body.
The large hands left Bruce’s head keeping him still with his powerful kissing
and went rapidly to the fabric belt that held the boy’s black tunic. He untied
it and laid the boy flat on the chessboard, pushing the tunic from his torso
and then his arms leaving the fabric under the young body. Ra’s rubbed greedily
Bruce’s abdomen ascending to his breasts where his pectorals had started to
take a really beautiful shape; he was nuzzling and sucking the boy’s neck,
grunting in delight.
Bruce was looking at the ceiling; he didn’t cry but his despair was apparent;
it was as if his heartbeat was discernible amidst the older man’s wet breaths.
Suddenly Ra’s’ eyes were on his.
“I know it’s just a few minutes since I had you and that you must be exhausted
yet your presence arouses my body… And…” he smiled “I don’t mind washing you
again…”
He sank his mouth in the crook of the boy’s neck and sucked so viciously that
Bruce’s hand grabbed the table’s legs.
Ra’s’ mouth was roaming Bruce’s breasts.
“What I use to bath you doesn’t leave any perfume…” he moaned. “So this
intoxicating aroma is your body’s… Oh! Bruce…” he mouthed the boy’s nipple and
sucked his teeth grazing gently causing the boy’s torso to arch. “No wonder
Falcone kept you alive… Not that I’d have let him kill you…”
His head was submerged in Bruce’s abdomen his tongue licking and impaling the
boy’s navel while his hands hurriedly grabbed the loose pant’s waistband and
with one swift motion took off the clothe discarding it to the floor.
Yet his slave had risen and his narrowed eyes pierced his master’s lustful
ones.
“You’re watching that night?!” he exclaimed his voice hoarse from emotion.
“You’re strong, you…you could have saved my parents and you let them die!” the
grinding of his teeth could be heard but the hurt in his voice was louder.
Ra’s stared at him soothingly.
“When I arrived they were already dead; I just saw Chill ready to slice you and
Falcone ordering him to stop.”
It was obvious that he lied: whether he watched the whole thing from the start
or later he didn’t give a damn about the boy’s parents and he wouldn’t have
saved them even if he could.
“Chill shot first against me; my mother pushed me away and covered me with her
body taking the bullet. She and my father saved me; you did nothing for me!”
Bruce’s eyes shone angrily because he understood Ra’s indifference about his
parents.
The older man smirked at his slave’s aggressiveness.
“Then they fulfilled their destiny to protect you with their lives!”
“There’s no destiny!” the boy yelled with his jaw set and his eyes glowing.
“People make their own destiny!”
Al Ghul snorted and clenched the boy’s chin in his hand without however making
him flinch.
“I don’t see you making your destiny…” his voice was filled with poison.
“You let Falcone kill my parents and take me…” the beautiful eyes were
glimmering with rage and pain. “How is this serving justice?”
 Ra’s’ eyes softened right away.
“I wanted you to experience every level of evil to understand; I wanted you to
fill with rage to meet your destiny!”
Bruce was staring at him with utter disbelief and the tremor became more
violent.
“My parents were killed…”
Ra’s’ palm covered his mouth not violently but determinedly.
“Our purpose is more significant than each of us and you worth more than two
lives…”
The boy writhed in his hands and tried to bite his master’s hand yet Al Ghul
pushed him laying him flat on the chessboard. Bruce growled when his master
grabbed his legs and bent them on the table; he thrashed about as if there was
a chance he could escape Ra’s but the older man lowered his own loose pants
revealing his huge erection and smirking grabbed the boy’s thighs and spread
them wide for him to enter.
The older man laughed hard when Bruce squirmed like a dying fish getting his
anus so abruptly and violently stretched to its limits. He pushed more to have
his entire length in and the torso under him arched. Bruce fumbled to find
something to grab and clenched his jaw to not scream.
But when Ra’s extracted a bit his length and thrust deeper and faster the boy
whined squeezing his eyes. His master took his ankles and brought them behind
his waist; he began thrusting so fast and deep that the boy screamed.
Ra’s without stopping punishing his student’s insides brushed Bruce’s heaving
chest and then his neck that had stretched in silent yells finishing at his
pressed lips.
“Do you feel like controlling your destiny, child?” he hissed and fastened his
pace, causing Bruce to open his eyes. “The only way you can affect your destiny
is by relaxing your muscles as I taught you!”
But Bruce couldn’t and Ra’s knew that and laughed maliciously, changing his
thrusting angle to impale the boy deeper and harder. Bruce’s head jerked
upwards in a scream and his hands desperately tried to hook on the table.
However his master’s pace was so frantic that he was rocked and rubbed on the
hard surface and he struggled to draw some air in his lungs as Al Ghul clenched
his breasts torturing his nipples.
It was obvious that Al Ghul’s penis was too large for that opening and that his
in and out movements hurt the tender flesh; it was obvious at Bruce’s
tearstained face which contracted with the movements of the great man he had
inside him. And the sound of the hard friction filled the room along with
Bruce’s choked sobs and Ra’s’ grunts.
Ra’s clenched the boy’s trembling thighs and sped up even more the pace and
Bruce abandoned every effort to silence his whimpers and cries, his head
hovered from the table’s edge his eyes petrified in staring the ceiling. His
body convulsing completely surrendered to his master.
“You give me life, Bruce…” his voice was hoarse from rasping. “Every time I am
inside you it’s like I regenerate…”
He thrust so hard that the table was toppled yet Ra’s hugged the boy
immediately and glued him on his lengthy torso fixing the youth’s legs around
his waist to continue thrusting. The boy cuddled defeated to his master’s body
and whined as his buttocks were squeezed.
“I should have gotten you right after you were born, child…”he groaned. “I hate
the years I lost and my believing then that the infant needed his mother the
first years…”
Bruce let a yell and then sobbed as Al Ghul’s penis hit punishingly his
prostate many times in a row.
“Please…” he whispered and the older man fisted his sweaty locks, jerking his
head.
“Please, what, child?” he grinded his teeth at Bruce’s closed eyes and the boy
cried as Ra’s’ balls whipped viciously his stretched anus.
“Please, master… I can’t…”
Ra’s nibbled at Bruce’s arched jaw line.
“No Pawn can get down a King, no matter how fond of him the King is!”
The thrusts became frantic as the lashes from his balls, Bruce yelled and Ra’s
jerked his head violently backwards arching painfully the youth’s torso.
“Don’t you ever repeat the Pawn movement!” he roared in the boy’s ear and Bruce
breathing hard nodded sobbing as his master’s hot fluids stung his insides
which bore friction burns and ran to his thighs.
Ra’s wrapped the boy in his enormous hug and Bruce nestled his head in the
hairy chest sobbing silently; his small body convulsed from pain, exhaustion
and despair. Al Ghul still inside the boy caressed the wet locks of his
student.
“I won’t, master…” his voice trembled muffled by the man’s hot flesh who sighed
in delight from the brush of the boy’s breath.
Yet the worm repeated that movement in real life defeating and killing his
king…
Talia focused again on the huge plasma screen on her office’s wall where Kent’s
video was playing for the hundredth time. And every time she was awed.
As she realized that was awed when watched her father fucking him. Now she
could admit it: she was coming so often to Gotham not only to spy her father
but also to watch him fuck his teen student. She was fascinated from the boy’s
still half blossomed beauty, his effort to hold his sobs and cries and finally
by his defeat, the despair, the lean of his neck, his closed eyes, the wet
locks framing his face, his tears and his surrender to her father’s hug and
washing.
She was so aroused each time from the spectacle and the knowledge that her
father was bathing the boy afterwards that she mounted Bane like a slut.
Until recently she believed that she just hated Bruce for his betrayal and
because he won her father’s desire. Yet there was another emotion: jealousy for
not being able herself to have the boy. Her father didn’t share his treasure
except with Falcone which was for business and Bane for punishment. But now
Bruce was her property…
She remembered seeing one day Chill manhandling the teen violently; she was
angry that her father allowed strangers to abuse his property while only he
should do that.
Her attention returned to the screen; from the moment she discovered Kent’s
video couldn’t stop watching and the PC screen wasn’t good enough. So the
second time she watched Batman’s fight was on plasma TV.
Grace, agility, speed, skill and intelligence; his grips weren’t of a specific
martial school: he was using everything he had been taught in his own technique
so that it was impossible for a traditional warrior to block him. Even Ra’s Al
Ghul had failed to defeat his remarkable student.
Zsasz’s attempts to gain some leverage against the Bat looked completely
hilarious as if the giant was drunk. Especially, when Zsasz jolted his enormous
fist to smash the Bat’s head and Batman avoided him so fast that only a blur
was visible the giant’s dumbfounded eyes searching were priceless as his
surprised yells of pain. Of course she had to play it in slow to manage
capturing Batman’s rapidly descending head butting the criminals belly while he
already started his 180oturn that brought his hammer-like kick to his
opponent’s cheek.
Wasn’t for Zsasz’s enormous mass and strength the fight would have ended
sooner. Talia smirked: the more the better for her who got the chance to watch
her property in full action; a man almost a foot shorter and having
approximately half the weight of his opponent managed to bring the giant to his
knees without breaking a nail…
Who could imagine that this killing machine was the vulnerable, sweet, weak
Bruce Wayne who three months ago at Falcone’s trial recounted in heartbreaking
detail his brutal abuse?
Someone who during the most crucial years of his development was so severely
malnourished to the point of starvation and physically tortured and sexually
abused to the point of internal and external injuries couldn’t withstand the
hard training of the League and the increased demands of being a crime fighter.
But her father helped the child’s battered body using that special mix of
Lazarus Pit and those herbs that only Ubu’s expertise could find; he gave that
mix to her a couple of times as well during her childhood to galvanize her body
yet she was certain that the bath Ra’s performed daily to his treasure wasn’t
with soap… And then there was the seed of the demon that Bruce’s body absorbed…
She shuddered; she was thrilled, anxious to get that man and tap him. All this
extraordinary skill, the strength, the mind coupled with his unique beauty
would make the League invincible; nobody would be able to resist him and them.
Even Superman would die…by the hands of the man he loves so desperately. She
smirked: how romantic! And Stark’s inventive genius would also be at her
service; he wouldn’t want his friend tortured again after everything Bruce has
been through…
Bane who was standing behind the sofa staring completely still and unimpressed
the screen snorted under the black silk that covered his face.
Talia lifted an eyebrow catching the faint sound.
“Speak, Bane.”
“He is not that great; his technique is amateurish. He fights like a street rat
not a noble warrior. If that scum knew how to fight Batman would be dead.”
She grinned and turned slightly to gaze her loyal warrior. This time she chose
not being enraged from Bane’s comment that hinted her father’s incompetence
too.
“You’re jealous, Bane?” she dragged her words teasingly. “You should be proud
of him and yourself: you’re one of his trainers after all…”
Talia stood and circled him, getting closer with each movement.
“Don’t worry, my loyal friend; you’ll have the chance to prove your superiority
in battle soon. Against him…” she hissed, her lips brushing his lower neck that
was uncovered.
An electrical current ran Bane’s spine yet he had the decency to turn his
solemn eyes to her young face.
“Soon?”
Talia nodded and walked away from him. She put her hands in the pockets of her
mahogany cashmere pants and gazed at the Palisades’ green scenery from the
large rectangular window.
“Crane is almost done with his drugs after we gave him back his notes from the
experiments he did on his patients; it wasn’t difficult to get them from
police’s evidence store. That moron Stane is ready to act and Luthor is in
Gotham and waits. Plus, Wayne Enterprises announced the official opening of the
‘Haven’ in two days.”
Bane approached her.
“Are you going to hit him then?”
Talia cast him a lopsided glance and grinned.
“I’m not that stupid. But Luthor will… The chessboard is ready and my pieces
set; the opponent will be taken by surprise.”
She heard from the TV set the last roar of Zsasz before he was knocked out and
felt the blood thirst of a tigress. If Bruce chose to kill Gotham would be
clean of all the scum – not that it would change much because that city was
doomed. When she finished with Bruce he’d be her punishing angel…or demon
severing the heads of her enemies. Beginning from Superman; oh! The thought of
having Bruce’s naked body worshipping her under the cut head of the Kryptonian
gave her goose bumps and that was rare for her.
“I want access to Bruce’s medical file from the free clinic” she spat to Bane.
He frowned.
“Why? He was admitted after that lunatic’s attack and…”
Talia turned abruptly to him, so strict that Bane stopped speaking.
“Dr. Thompkins was his parents’ friend and Thomas Wayne’s colleague; she adored
Bruce and the boy was active in her clinic. The boy stayed for eighteen years
in the hands of a merciless man whose abuse’s marks are still obvious. I’m sure
she wouldn’t have left Bruce without scrutinizing every part of his body to
make certain that every hidden injury or disease will be found and cured.”
Bane didn’t like hearing about Bruce being loved by people; he shook his hand.
“We have doctors to examine him.”
Talia lifted her index and smirked.
“A doctor caring so much about her patient will be more intensive and careful
than some paid indifferent doctors; and I don’t want anything left at chance.
Besides we need to know every possible medicine he might be taking in order to
adjust our procedure: a counteraction of medicines could be detrimental. ”
Bane approached more.
“And if your property is defective?” she could discern the hidden by the scarf
glee.
She narrowed her eyes scolding him.
“I have the Lazarus Pit” her voice was sharp as her stare.
“There are injuries and faults that couldn’t be restored, even by that.”
She smiled confidently and stretched graciously her neck, pointing her long
nailed fingers towards the screen.
“If he indeed carries some…faults he proved that he can overcome them. He
survived Falcone’s abuse and beat criminals even though the mobster was
torturing him; his mind’s power is impressive – my father told me. This man
isn’t defective in any way.”
Bane’s eyes reflected his concealed evil smile.
“You’ll get his file even though Thompkins’ clinic is a fortress; and maybe you
realize that he is good only for one thing: being punished.”
Talia’s eyes sent daggers to him and Bane bowed his head and left the room.
She served herself cognac on a crystal snifter and sat at the sofa crossing her
legs. Bane was an idiot!
The video had ended and she chose the replay option, her eyes fervent. She was
anxious to have what her father had for twelve years; she craved to see the
proud defiance of those famous unique eyes and then watch as the defiance will
be bent; his effort to hide his despair with pride, the slowly prevailing of
hopelessness, the realization that he was conquered. And then those sparkling
tears that always fascinated her through the narrow hole from which she was
spying Ra’s. She was eager to feel his surrender to her and him taking comfort
from the hands of his torturer and mistress…
 
“Awesome!” Tony exclaimed after the end of the video on his tablet.
“Horrible!” Bruce snapped and hit violently the option to shut Planet’ssite
from Tony’s tablet’s screen.
Tony stretched on the chair’s back and ruffled his untidy hair. It was eight in
the morning and they were at the Manor’s kitchen.
“OK, you’re right: the shooting angle isn’t good in a couple of moves and the
lighting doesn’t flatter your…jaw?” he made a rectangular with the fingers of
both his hands and looked Bruce through that.
But Bruce wasn’t in the mood for humor: he was angry from the moment he learnt
about the video and his mood still hadn’t changed after two days. Tony watched
with raised eyebrows his friend pacing the spacious kitchen where they were
supposed to have breakfast.
“C'mon, buddy, calm down. Nothing bad happened. Eat something; those muffins
are baked poetry.”
“I can’t believe he did that!” he turned to Tony who was gulping a muffin.
Tony lolled his head to the side.
“I’m not the one who always makes excuses for him…” he said with his mouth full
and Bruce cast him a sideways glance; Tony swallowed his food and opened his
hands innocently. “And isn’t that bad…”
Bruce crossed his hands over his chest and narrowed his eyes like an angry
panther; it was rather beautiful Tony thought.
“Yeah” the younger man snapped. “The next time he’ll publish a video with me
getting the armor on!”
Tony set his legs on the table and crossed his palms behind his head. He pursed
his lips thoughtfully.
“Mmmm… and if it begins with you naked it surely will surpass that one…”
Bruce tilted his head and sighed.
“Tony, it’s not funny!” he began pacing again.
“The video became viral, little guy; over one hundred million hits in 24 hours
and that’s only for the official video on Planet’s site. Congrats, buddy: you
beat the Fifty Shades of Grey trailer!”
Bruce rolled his eyes.
“Batman is not for show and that asshole made me a spectacle!”
“I should be the angry one; Ironman videos have lesser hits and are older. But
look at me: I’m cool!”
The younger man uncrossed his hands and gesture to the air.
“Ironman is different, is a being of light…” Tony made a slight bow in thanks.
“Batman needs to stay in the shadows in the threshold between reality and
legend, a dark creature to cause fear. This video destroys the appeal…”
Tony started again the video showing it to Bruce.
“This doesn’t cause fear?” he asked amused.
He shook his head.
“You don’t understand, Tony…”
Tony stood and approached him.
“You’re amazing, buddy; I had no idea how awesome you are: I’m impressed, awed
– and you know, I’m Tony Stark cock playboy superhero that never gets impressed
by anyone but himself; imagine the impression it makes to the bad guys: I bet
they’ll think it twice before messing with your city.”
“Or’’ Bruce focused his eyes on Tony’s face “more crazies like Joker would want
to challenge me wanting to prove themselves by killing Batman, showing to
everyone that they are the rulers; which means more innocent dead. Or my
enemies will have that video to study my moves and prepare their tactic.”
Tony sobered.
“They can’t find a tactic to face you because the martial arts you know are
more than the weaponry systems of my armor” he reassured his friend and
himself. “Is not that important” he patted his friend’s upper arm “look at me:
Ironman has countless videos on line and nobody can beat me.”
Bruce licked his lips.
“You didn’t notice him?” Tony inquired calmly.
The younger man clenched his waist.
“Of course; but I couldn’t imagine that Clark would do something like this and
apparently I was too busy.”
Tony lifted an eyebrow.
“He is a reporter; I guess that part took over.”
Bruce began pacing again and Tony lolled his head.
“I trust him, Tony and he… Ugh! I ha…”
Tony stared at him expectantly.
“Yeah…” Tony encouraged him shaking his hand to prompt him.
“I don’t want to ever see him again!” he said instead.
Tony nodded disappointed but also sure that his friend wouldn’t say ‘I hate
him’.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible: he’s Planet’s correspondent in Gotham and the
grand opening of the ‘Haven’ is a major event, especially since everyone would
wait eagerly to see the Prince after Joker’s attack and hope to cover live a
new attack.” He furrowed his brows. “Of course Kent probably will get much of
the attention; with that video he became a star and probably he got the
Pulitzer in his shelf already…”
“I don’t give a damn if he gets the Oscar or the Nobel!”
Tony shrugged.
“We can always forget the antidote and the next time Superman tries to take off
will eat dust…in front of everyone…” his eyes were gleeful as his smirk yet
Bruce was stern.
“He needs the antidote ASAP, Tony; don’t you see? He acted completely contrary
to his personality: the effect corrupts him.”
Tony rolled his eyes.
“No, he was just a reporter doing everything to get a raise.”
“Clark is not like that: he would never betray my trust weren’t for this
fucking substance’s effects.” He took in Tony’s exasperation for what he
thought was defending the man. “He needs to get that antidote to find his true
self and detach from me; that way I won’t have to see him again.”
The older man shook his head grinning.
“The antidote is almost done.”
Bruce’s eyes shone with interest.
“What about his powers?”
“We tested your potion…”
“Water of Immortality.”
“Whatever… and his cells showed a remarkable fast recovery and we’re talking
about cells that were in constant contact with yours so they were more worn off
than those in his body.”
Bruce nodded; despite his wrath on Clark his relief was evident.
“Finally, some good news…”
Those two nights Bruce searched for the Joker with no result; not to mention
that Luthor was acting like a good kid with no suspicious movements or meetings
so his hope to find Luthor’s secret ally was squashed.
Tony sat again; he looked at Bruce lopsided with his lips pouted.
“You must eat to take your drugs.”
“Right” he sighed and took grudgingly a muffin.
“If Alfred saw you right now he’d be very disappointed on his cooking.”
“Alfred knows that I love his cooking. It’s just that I have no mood for
eating.”
Tony raised his eyebrow.
“Or taking your pills…” he added slyly.
“I’m taking the antibiotics for gonorrhea and the supplements that are
necessary. I can’t take the pack because I need to have my head clear and with
all these I’ll be half asleep all day long.”
Tony tapped his fingers on the table; he didn’t like Bruce neglecting his
health.
“I’m not neglecting my health, Tony: I know my organism.”
“You have far too many things on your head to hear your organism’s requests.”
Bruce didn’t answer just sipped his milk. “Alfred knows that you’re taking your
pills ‘selectively’?”
“Can we speak about something different than pills? I feel like a junkie.”
Tony gulped his espresso staring at Bruce with still eyes.
“At least you can’t elude Leslie; she is coming everyday to shot your vaccines,
though oddly enough you already have antibodies for many diseases.”
Bruce sat at the stool, drinking the orange juice.
“I told her that there was no reason to trouble herself and that I’d go to the
clinic…”
“Someday…” Tony dragged the syllables. “She is too smart for that, buddy.”
“I just don’t want people to …to exert themselves or give up their interests
for my sake like you or Selina…”
Tony protruded his lips.
“And now we hit the core of your brooding mood…I assure you that I’m not
‘exerting myself’ with scientific research as for my interests: whenever some
urgency occurs I rush there – Malibu isn’t Gotham after all. Besides, the
antidote is almost finished and then I’ll have plenty of free time. As for
Selina she likes trips and…she likes breaking and entering, so you didn’t take
her away from her interests.”
“I’d feel better if I had gone to Boston or at least I was with her. I don’t
want her alone without cover.”
Tony rolled his eyes.
“We’re still speaking about the Catwoman? The one who stole the Black Butterfly
from the museum with the best security in the world? You gave her every detail
of the hospital’s blueprints and the security measures and you’ll be in
constant communication. Not to mention that her armor is made by Lucius with
some touches from Tony’s magical hands. And the most important: she wanted the
trip, especially when Stark’s new private jet is on the travel plan. Unless you
don’t trust us…” he frowned.
Bruce looked at him affronted.
“Of course he does, Master Anthony” Alfred entered the kitchen discreetly.
“It’s me that I don’t trust him with his medicines” his voice was cool but
stinging.
Bruce turned towards him.
“I thought you were at the garden…” he gestured to Alfred’s perfectly clean
suit and hands.
“Certainly, sir but I started quite early so by now I had the time to be
appropriate looking. And your effort to dodge the matter was miserable, Master
Bruce. Master Anthony, I don’t think there’s anything funny…”
Tony swallowed his laughter and watched Alfred opening the drawer and gathering
almost a handful of pills. Bruce paled when the butler offered him the pills.
“I don’t need the painkillers and the arrhythmia ones, Alfred.”
“If you didn’t the doctor wouldn’t prescribe them.”
Tony frowned.
“Painkillers for what?” he demanded leaning towards Bruce.
Bruce sighed; he didn’t want Tony privy to that.
“Sometimes gonorrhea has pain as a symptom and I was unlucky enough to be one
of these cases but since I take the antibiotics I don’t feel any pain. That’s
all…”
Tony kept looking at him as if testing his sincerity and Bruce felt terrible
for lying. Alfred however lifted an eyebrow and insisted with the pills.
“The leaflet inside refers to myosceletical injuries and infections, sir.”
Tony’s eyes widened yet Bruce kept his cool.
“Doctor’s choice” he shrugged. “I’m not a child, Alfred” he took the
antibiotics and gulped them.
Alfred nodded exasperated.
“I’m well aware of that, sir. When you were a child you took your medicine
without lying to an old man like me…”
Bruce inhaled deeply, a pang of regret piercing his chest. He grabbed the
painkillers and the rest of the pills and swallowed them. Alfred smiled.
“Thank you, sir; now if you don’t need anything else with your permission I
must go to the city. Miss Potts awaits me for fixing the last details with the
catering for the opening.”
“Pepper has already left?” Bruce asked impressed; it was still quite early.
“Of course sir; I served her breakfast and I saw her leaving while I was
tending the garden. Am I excused now?”
“Certainly.”
As soon as Alfred left them Tony stood and approached Bruce; his eyes were too
serious for Tony’s standards.
“What are you hiding?”
Bruce stood too.
“Nothing.”
“What’s going on? Why Leslie gave you painkillers?”
“I told you: I had some pain due to gonorrhea but now I’m fine” he moved his
hands to the air. “You know Leslie and Alfred…they’re overprotective and
overreact! I can’t take painkillers all the time because I’ll be addicted.
Tony, I have more important things and I’m wasting my time with talks about
drugs.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed.
“There’s nothing more important than you” he retaliated solemnly.
Bruce shook his head with his eyes shut: they just couldn’t understand that as
many drugs he might take his body wasn’t going to be as it would be without all
these years of abuse. At least it hadn’t collapsed and that was thanks to Ra’s.
But he couldn’t utter those things to them; he didn’t want to sadden them.
“Joker is on the loose and the car with which he fled the scene wasn’t there by
chance.”
“He’ll make a move and we’ll bust him. And Jim already investigates how the car
was left there.”
“I don’t want to take the risk of him hurting again innocent people.”
“It’d be foolish to attack at the grand opening with Ironman there.”
Bruce nodded.
“And very predictable and he doesn’t like to be boring. But I want to find him
before he makes a move for that reason I need the files from the Spaulding
Rehabilitation hospital; maybe we’ll figure out something. And also there are
some odd files of the League of Shadows.”
“What files?”
“A project called ‘Egis’ but the word isn’t written in Latin characters.”
He wrote it to a paper towel: α.ι.γ.ι.ς.
“And what’s this?” Tony squinted his eyes. “It’s Greek to me…”
Bruce nodded and brought the pen in his lips.
“Because it is Greek; it is pronounced ‘egis’ and probably they are initials of
something that I must find.”
Tony ruffled his hair.
“Do you think it’s something dangerous?”
“Everything regarding the League is dangerous. Especially when they might be
cooperating with Luthor…”
A nerve ending twitched in Tony’s face and Bruce explained to him that the
presence of the gun in Gotham the same time with Luthor wasn’t random and if
Luthor planned to attack him before Superman that could mean that he knew about
his effect on him and wanted to exploit it to exterminate his old enemy.
“There’s only one way he could knew about this, Tony.”
“The League.”
“Exactly. I didn’t find in League’s catalogue of foundations the one led by
Miranda Tate in Tanzania but that doesn’t persuade me. I must fish Luthor for
information.”
Tony shook his head exasperated.
“You’re a masochist if you want to get near him again” Bruce smirked and
nodded. “But how you plan to achieve that?”
He shrugged.
“No idea. Ah! Tony, we must make a really awesome gift to Pepper; she works so
much.”
Tony smiled wickedly.
“She is used to that and concerning the gift, rest assured…I’m on it, little
guy… Every night!” he winked.
Bruce smiled amused.
 
Jack Napier crossed the enormous waiting room at the skyscraper’s tallest level
so fast that the young secretary managed to speak only when he had already
reached the huge door.
“Mr. Rothmeyer doesn’t expect you, Mr. Napier…” she uttered with a rasp of
agony.
Jack smiled wickedly his green eyes glistening under his hut.
“I never go where they expect me, doll face!”
He burst into the luxurious office and laughed on the spectacle.
Rothmeyer was sprawled on his tall-backed and spacious chair behind his desk,
an expression of complete oblivion on his face and his eyes rolled almost
entirely in his head. His legs was spread and in front of his groin a carrot-
red haired head was moving graciously, causing the big boss’ moans that
reminded of a pig – with no intention of insult for the pigs… Rothmeyer’s fat
hand cupped the cute head to speed up the pace.
“Knock – Knooock!” he raised his voice singsonging.
Rothmeyer’s eyes returned to their sockets and the piggy man’s face became so
red that Jack got worried.
“Easy, Eddie; your age is prone to strokes…”
But Rothmeyer jumped to his feet unbalancing the red haired babe who fell on
her nice round shaped ass with her big breasts hoping on her chest completely
naked since her T-shirt was tossed on the floor. The big boss’ fat but short
penis fell disappointed on his ‘little brothers’.
Jack laughed.
“The bird didn’t flyyyyy yet?” he shook his head sad. “I guess in your age it
gets difficult ooooooor maybe is be-cause you use an ‘aged’ mouth…”
Rothmeyer’ eyes almost burst out of their sockets and new sweat ran his face
while his slut no more than 20 years old cast an angry stare at Jack who
shrugged.
“Sorry, babe… By the way, nice boobs; care for a ride?”
“Get out of here!” Rothmeyer snapped to the babe while zipping his trousers and
she hastened to wear her almost transparent T-shirt and leave the room.
“This rrrrrride we’re talking about?” Jack inquired her but she passed him
furious. “I’ll give you an auuuuutograph after…” he sang as she hit the door
and Jack scratched his head shrugging. “I guess she prefers drama…”
Unfazed he dived to the gargantuan leather couch and crossed his stretched
legs. He folded his hands under his neck and looked at Rothmeyer who were
wiping his face.
“Uuuuu! I wish I had my camera with me to immortalize that scene… Not that I
doooooon’t have plenty of material with you as a star… Really, Eddie why you
didn’t tried as an actor? You’d have been a staaaaaar… in porno! Hehehehee!”
“What do you want, Napier!” he sank into his chair grinding his teeth. “Your
movie became a huge hit and your performance took high praise with my boost.”
Jack rolled his eyes.
“Now you’re uuuuungrateful, Eddie; you made a fortune by your boost and I got a
tiny-bit reward for my silence.”
Rothmeyer was rasping.
“Tiny-bit reward?!”
“Really now, Eddie: you must looooooose some weight. Listen to your
respiration.”
“I made you the number one comedian! You were a lousy standup comedian before!”
“With a lot of potential and a lot of… hidden assets” he winked and Rothmeyer
paled.
“What do you want now?”
Jack perused his nails indifferently.
“To make you a richer man and the most successful president in the history of
this fine company!”
Eddie’s eyes of unidentified color darkened as he frowned.
“What is it this time?” he roared spitting some saliva.
Jack wiped some supposed saliva from his face and smiled like a Cheshire cat to
Edward Rothmeyer, the president of the most prominent company in film industry.
“Oh, my!” he exclaimed. “How smaaaaart you are!” he jeered.
“Spit it, you bozo!”
Jack pouted his lips.
“I looooove it when you make compliments!” he sobered instantly. “I want to
hear ‘and the Oscar goes to Jack Napier’…”
The fat guy gave a sound half a sneer and half a grunt and shook his head
exasperated.
“You want the Oscar for a leading role? This is crazy! You already got the
Golden Globe, for God’s sake!”
“Yeeeeeep, but it was for a comedy. Aaaand” he shook his head pretending
humility “I dooooon’t want to brag, but it is already known that I’m the best
comedian. What I want is to be the best actor!”
Rothmeyer rolled his eyes.
“I can’t do that, even if I wanted! The Academy prefers drama and everyone
knows that this is Bale’s year.”
Jack uncrossed his legs; jolted from his laying position and sat focusing his
completely still and menacing eyes on the big boss.
“Who fucks the Academyyyyy! And the guy doesn’t give a shit about awards! While
I… I’m giving eeeeeeeeeverything for awards” he dragged his words letting the
hints sank. “Even a particularly interesting and strictly NC-17 video…If you
know what I mean…” he winked. “It’s time comedy prevailed drama; I’m an
ideologist, you see. I believe that comedy has been wronged all these years and
it’s time someone corrected things.” He gestured to himself. “Moi!”
Rothmeyer lowered his head shaking it in disbelief and rubbing his forehead.
“I can’t… It’s impossible… I mean I have some critics and members of the
Academy I influence…”
“A lot of them…” Jack corrected greedily nodding.
“But still Oscars are out of my reach…”
Now Jack stood completely sober and approached confidently making Rothmeyer
shudder. And his shudder became stronger when Jack put his palms on the desk
and leaned towards him with gleaming eyes.
“Don’t fuck with me! I know the game and your power in the industry: if you
want something really bad it happens. Remember that year that your nominee won
while was the definite outsider without any other award that year?” his stare
became angrier. “Well I do! So either on March 21 I’ll give a speech praising
my ‘supportive’ producer or on March 22 my ‘unsupportive’ producer will see
every TV station and internet site playing his…ummm… ‘educational’ video.”
He saw Rothmeyer goggling and nodded.
“Imagine that deeeeeelicious orgy in Boston playing in every house in US and
especially YOUR house” he shook his head. “I picture good ol’ Ms. Rothmeyer
seeing her loyal husband stuffing the little hole of a thirteen year old girl
while being fucked in the ass by an Afro giant the same time he sucks the
asshole of a kneeled chick…” he closed his eyes “Ouch!” he exclaimed in
sympathy. “She still has the 52% of your 60% in the company, huh? Not to
mention her Italian origins… some bad people say that she has relatives in
Camorra and that’s how this company became so gross… I don’t want to imagine
her revenge…Brrrrrr!”
Rothmeyer became ashen and his breathe was caught in his throat.
“And thirteen years is way far from the consent age, huh?” he blinked. “This
video would be your death conviction, huh? Literally and metaphorically. So,
let’s keeeeeep our good and prolific partnership…”
He stretched his hand and Rothmeyer gave his trembling one gazing at Jack
petrified.
“Now, get a grip” Jack continued nonchalant “aaaaand be your arrogant,
powerful, insensitive, bullying self, buuuuuying and intimidating people around
because there’s only a week before the nominees’ announcement.”
He leaned and kissed Rothmeyer’ forehead thrilled.
“I loooooove you, fatty!”
Joker watched Rachel entering the empty building where they settled the new
‘headquarters’. He was sunk in a huge purple armchair sucking a pink lollipop
with his legs bent over the armrest.
The building was for decades abandoned but in a good shape and Rachel bought it
under an alias so that nobody traced it back to them. It was at Van Wyck Blvd
near Gotham’s International Airport and the sound of planes was often and loud
and frankly Joker was jubilant for the fuss.
Except from the purple armchair there was a couch, a table with a large flat
screen TV set and in the corner a pink closet refrigerator covered with
stickers of various cartoon characters and prints of Bruce Wayne and Batman
from the video with Zsasz.
 Rachel came near him and crossed her arms on the chest casting a sideways
glance to the refrigerator.
“What. Are. You. Doing?”
“Make myself at home, daaaarling! Aaaand day-dreaming…”
She shook her head and sat on the couch.
“Your…fiance?” she snorted.
Joker shook his head in the negative.
“Actually no” he replied with the lollipop between his teeth. “I was picturing
ol’ Eddie partying after the news of myyyyyy death.”
Rachel grimaced and corked a brow.
“He thinks he got away…” she sneered.
“Hehe! Imagine his shock when he’ll see his fat assssss on screen with a big
fat prick stuck there… Ugh! I wish I had a camera to watch him…”
“Are you sure you want to lose that ace in the hole?”
Joker flipped his legs and sat properly on the chair.
“I doooon’t care about showbiz anymore and I’ll enjoy the chaos of the scandal…
Besides I had warned him that if something baaaaaad happened to me the video
will be published” he purged his lips shrugging. “I’m a man of my word, hehe…”
Rachel shrugged and stood.
“Your business… Ah! Nice nose” she pointed smirking at his red swollen nose.
“Batman made you look like a real clown!” she laughed and went to the
refrigerator to take a beer.
Joker brought out of his vest’s small pocket a rectangular piece of broken
mirror and brushed his nose.
“I think it flatters my eyes…”
“I think it suits your personality…” she said slyly and drank from the bottle
of beer she just opened.
Joker jumped to his feet and came to Rachel.
“How you’re here? I believed you in jail for fooling the police pretending my
attorney or some bullshit like that…”
“Believedor wanted?” she asked raising a brow.
Joker pouted and spread his hands in the air.
“You huuuuurt my feelings, sweetheart; you know you’re my bosom buuuuddy –
don’t believe the shit that there’s no friendship between a woman and a man.”
Rachel looked him from head to toe with disbelief.
“And you’re… the man?” she mocked him and gulped some beer. “There wasn’t any
chance Dent would permit any persecution against me after what happened.”
Joker lolled his head to the side.
“The jump from the bridge was toooooo much, baby.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I saved you from having your face splashed on the Bat’s gloves…”
Joker frowned.
“Actually I was having fun…”
“You’re a perv; of course you were.”
“And if he hadn’t dived after you?”
She rolled her eyes.
“You had told me that he risked his life to save the scum that had stabbed him;
he wouldn’t have let a damsel in distress die.”
Joker giggled and threw the stick of the lollipop away.
“I bet Prince Harv took youuuuu to the hospital.”
“Nah” she gulped the last of her beer and tossed the bottle. “He took me to my
hotel room on my request and stayed with me the rest of the night.”
He wolf whistled and giggled giving elbows to the air.
“Go, girl! You screwed him?”
She shook her head with rolled eyes.
“Jackie, you’re a fool! I was acting the victim in pain, remember? I was in
need of comfort” she jeered “of someone to wipe my tears, to rub my back, to
hug me…”
Joker pretended to throw up.
“You haaaaaave our little rock star DA in your panties, huh?”
Rachel locked eyes with him.
“You know I don’t wear any panties” she spat.
And Joker approached more, his gaze greedy.
“Even when you’re Harvey’s gooooood girlie?” he grabbed her buttocks which
where protruding under her jeans.
She sniggered.
“I thought you were an engaged man in love?” she snorted lifting an eyebrow.
Joker shook his head askance.
“Well, I got quite the tuuuurn on from my last encounter with Brucey… WITHOUT
ANY RELEASE!” he stressed every syllable. “And I’m a man with needs, you know…”
Rachel rested her palm on his chest and pushed him away.
“And also a man with hands…Keep your wood for your fiancé.”
She paced and crossed her hands on the chest.
“Speaking of which…” she hesitated. “I think you should drop the whole thing.”
Joker frowned and his eyes darkened menacingly; he tilted his head to have a
better view of her.
“What. Do. You. Mean?”
She turned her back to him.
“Bruce has suffered too much…”
Joker was behind her with a jump; he grabbed her upper arms and turned her to
him squinting suspiciously.
“And youuuuu care about him?”
Her eyes became icy.
 “Of course not you moron”.
Joker slapped her violently and she lifted her head proudly.
“What I wanted to say, YOU MORON,” she repeated stubbornly “is that Bruce has
suffered so much that everyone would do anything to protect him. He has Ironman
and Superman guarding him and Batman won’t stay indifferent to you threatening
him. Beat the stupid mob, become the Emperor of this shithole but let Wayne
alone.”
Joker looked thoughtful and Rachel believed that he was thinking what she said
to him.
“Doooooo you think that that Stark fucks him?” he asked with fervent eyes and
Rachel sighed. “I mean friendship and bullshit; who cares for someone dead for
eighteen years if not for fucking him? And we know Stark…”
Rachel shook her head in denial.
“Not with Bruce. They met when Bruce was just four years old and from then
Stark who was six years older adored the little boy. He followed him at
Narrows, at the free clinic and the homeless’ shelter helping. They were like
brothers, everyone saw that and when Bruce was declared dead Stark was
heartbroken.”
Joker was watching with furrowed brows and glistening eyes. He smirked.
“Aren’t you knowing tooooooo much?”
Rachel realized what Joker was saying and snorted.
“You’d have known too if you had made a little research. You didn’t hear me,
did you? Give up on Wayne: threatening him you’re drawing the wrath of those
stupid super-heroes and you’ll lose. Whereas you can easily beat the rivaling
mobsters and conquer Gotham’s underworld.”
Joker laughed.
“The paiiiiiid muscle of this city already struggles to be in myyyyy gang; they
smell the success! But no, nooooooo” he shook his index “I’ll get Bru-cey. You
can’t shove it to your thick head, huh? You can’t rule this nice city without
having its Prince as your whore – Falcone knew it. Even if nobody else knows
the feel of triumph is enough to boost you in heaven – not to mention the
impression of winning over those boooozos super heroes. And…” he winked “the
boy is value for money and my dick twitches on remembering the sense of his
shaking body under me.”
Rachel sighed and pressed her lips in a tight line.
“Have it your way then; I warned you.”
Joker paced the room with his finger over his lips.
“Whoooooo will be the better bait for Brucey?”
“What are you saying?”
He jolted his hands.
“Snatching one of his loved ones and making him crawl to me; I bet the poor
thing wouldn’t want to see another one of his beloved dying because of him. Is
really an old but sure method, you bimbo!”
She sat on the purple armchair and crossed her legs.
“Very sure… And since when you stick to ‘old and sure’ methods?” she snorted.
“Ironman and Supes will take Bruce and secure him somewhere unknown and will
kick your ass. If you want to get him you should stay under the radar for a
while, giving the impression that you gave up or left; only then their guard
will be loose enough for you to strike. Bruce wants to be normal, to act
bravely, to forget that he is indeed only a poor victim.”
Joker pursed his lips.
“My pooooooor baby! I don’t have the luxury to wait.” His voice was sober and
his eyes glistening dangerously. “A gun made to break Wayne’s impenetrable
windows?” he shook his head smiling. “It wasn’t randomly left in that warehouse
and the thugs that were guarding it said while I was ripping their guts that
they worked for someone from Metropolis. And whoooooo we know from Metropolis
with an interest in Brucey?”
“Luthor” she answered bored.
“Aaaaand when I sent him to fly, these people in his office seemed like
plotting. The old man with the bald is a former partner of Stark’s father who
has a loooooong lasting grudge with Stark and a motive to hit Stark in his weak
spot. As for Morticia there’s nothing… And that’s suspicious. I’m sure they’re
up to something to get to Bru-cey.”
“Then wait them to hit and in the midst of the chaos grab the prize…”
Joker rushed to her and yanked her jaw.
“I. Dooooon’t. Follow. Others! I’m Joooooker the King of Chaos and everyone
will learn that! At the grand opening…”
Rachel pursed her lips and shrugged.
“Do as you want…But you didn’t have to rough me up so much at MCU.”
Joker brushed with his thumb her lips.
“Rouuuuughed you up? When I met youuuuu at Boston you loved to be ‘roughed up’,
dar-ling… I was the one who taught you that pain is equally nice when given to
others…”
“Exactly!” she jolted upright and submerged her knee to Joker’s groin and he
began giggling uncontrollably.
***** Chapter 38 *****
Chapter Notes
     I have no particular knowledge about the business world so excuse the
     inaccuracies and the oddities. I hope at least the gist is
     satissfying.
Boston’s Nero Club was the most famous place for satisfying everyone’s and
every kind of taste and demands. But what interested Jack was the ‘dungeons’ of
the club where rumor had it that the best attractions took place. He wanted to
celebrate his freedom and his new all promising start in life with something
very…out of the ordinary. He was extraordinary, too, after all.
He passed the main gargantuan space where at least a dozen hovering cages
hosted boys and girls dancing seductively and stripping while the clients
underneath fucked whatever they desired horny from the spectacle on the store’s
sky. Champagne was downed abundantly or washed the hard working naked bodies of
the club’s personnel that were stuffed with the clients’ jubilant cocks. Jack
smirked: booooooring…
He paid the excessive fee to the bouncers, two at the number but four at the
size, and descended to the basement which was drenched in a dull yellow light
that made the bare bricks of the walls look really old, as if you had travelled
back in time; in the dungeons of a medieval castle with small rectangular
windows with railings. Jack laughed amused and walked towards the arch that led
to the performance hall through the roomy corridor which was illuminated by
torches in bare iron cases.
The space was nothing like the club upstairs; it didn’t have tables and chairs
only wooden stools with cushions surrounding a slightly lifted up stage packed
with every kind of delicious looking torture instruments, a iron wheel and
chains hovering from the ceiling. He licked his lips and his concealed scars.
He sat on a stool and gestured to one of the waitresses. They were dressed only
with black leather panties while their chest was wrapped in a shred of black
leather that left their busty and aroused breasts uncovered. Their necks had
leather leashes and their ankles were bound with straps connected with chains.
It was lovely.
The waitress he called was brunette with locks that reached her butt offering
an interesting frame to the somewhat lean ass cheeks that protruded from the
huge holes of the leather underwear. He ordered the most expensive whiskey of
the club and squeezed her boob taping her thick and erased nipple; he had seen
the other clients pawing at the waitresses so it was allowed. Not that he cared
about rules but it was too soon to manifest it.
“I wanted to see if they’re real, su-gar…” he smiled and slapped the ass cheek
of the girl.
He took his drink served in an ancient looking mug and settled better in his
cushion as the dissonant music which reminded of the sounds of a heave stopped
abruptly. He saw his fellow customers eagerly looking at the stage.
Jack knew that this kind of performances was given each night but this night of
the week was special: the most advertised and that with the largest audience
and the biggest fee.
A woman dressed in a toe-long brown leather cape which didn’t permit any view
inside and a hood casting in shadow her face entered the spacious hall and bare
footed crossed the corridor that was left between the stools to ascend the two
small steps to the stage.
She was of average height that was the only thing Jack could discern and she
was the star.
After she set her feet on the stage three gorilla men followed her dressed only
in black leather pants, their muscled chests and hands were completely naked
and shone shaved and oiled in the torches’ dull yellow light. Their heads were
shaved as well.
The two of them stood on her sides and the third on the edge of the stage where
the iron wheel was.
The hood covering her face was violently dragged revealing a very young face
with rosy cheeks and full heart shaped lips; her eyes were hidden in a wide
eye-mask made of black lace yet their cold stare was evident. She had platinum-
blond hair that reached her jaw line.
Now the two men grabbed the cape and with a jerk took it off the woman’s body.
Her average height was cutely combined with juicy curves that were highlighted
by the underwear that covered her body. A black laced bra assorted with a
really small string as was revealed when the bald giant twirled her roughly for
the public to see her juicy ass cheeks.
The girl was turned again in front of the audience and her ankles got tied to
straps attached to the floor. Her legs were positioned wide spread. Then the
other man took her hands and strapped the wrists in front of her with black
leather to bound them one upon the other and hook the chain that hovered above
the stage to the ring on the strap.
The third guy began spinning the wheel lifting the chain and stretching along
the girl’s body until her hands reached their limits and her torso was tense.
Then the other two grabbed each of her bra straps and ripped them pulling off
the black clothe from her torso; she had big, juicy breasts, round shaped and
flopping enticingly on her chest while her dark pink nipples were already
erected due to the stretching. Her tiny string was next, the two men tearing it
easily leaving her body completely naked to everyone’s whistles.
Suddenly two spears began ascending from the stage exactly under the girl’s
spread legs stopping exactly at her openings; the spears’ edges were covered
with latex which looked lubed. She convulsed her stretched body taking inside
the edges of both the spears and then the spears continued rising till only
their bottom was visible. She was yanking her head keeping her lips half opened
and biting them when the spears’ edges began vibrating inside her.
Jack smiled wickedly because as everyone else he could see her openings quite
stretched and her breasts nicely dancing on her chest with the vibration.
The man behind her gawped her rich buttocks and squeezed them viciously the
girl moaning with the moan becoming a seductive whine when the second man did
the same to her swollen breasts, pinching her nipples. He bit viciously the
nipple and she stretched her neck graciously sobbing teasingly.
And then the man behind her took a paddle and began spanking her ass her
twitching really pleasant to the eye especially when the second man in front of
her took a bullwhip and began lashing her torso which soon became deliciously
red and painted like a zebra.
Everyone could hear the hissing of the leather and the bang of the paddle on
flesh but she looked quite cool and it was fascinating for Jack the way her
gaze was cold and unfazed by the pain and the double penetration. Jack could
say that she was actually happy by the situation as much as her viewers who had
the chance to see her ass reddening too since the center of the stage rotated
slowly.
Her breasts were hit by the bullwhip too and they hopped causing the quickening
of her breath along with the pace of the vibration yet her expression was
unchanging just whining a couple of times and Jack was sure that it was for the
viewers sake.
Suddenly her body began squirming and her breathe became rasping as the spears
drilled faster and deeper inside her. Her body still double punished drenched
with sweat and her tied arms and legs trembled in what – Jack smirked – was a
faked orgasm. She stretched her neck, fisted her hands and began grunting and
whining and moving her belly and ass to get more of everything.
The male viewers were whistling and rubbing their dicks as her twitches became
more violent and erratic, her mouth agape sucking desperately the air. The air
was hot from the horny men yet Jack was amused: the girl was clearly anorgasmic
and the only thing she was enjoying was pain and that was intriguing.
 For the next days Jack was following the girl from the club to her house – she
lived alone – to Harvard University. That was too funny and Jack was laughing
many times a day thinking of it: a law school student the masochism Queen of
Nero. She would be the best associate for him.
He never watched again her show because he enjoyed only the pain he caused to
others and himself. Yet each of her performance’s nights he waited outside for
the right opportunity to approach her.
It was a month after the first time he saw the girl’s show. She left the club
with a man accompanying her; he wasn’t a client, the girl didn’t take
customers. Jack looked better and recognized one of her co-stars. It was
obvious that he was following her without her will; her irritation was evident
from her harsh breaths.
“Todd, beat it! I don’t need an escort or company and you reek of booze and
cum… Ugh! And if you keep rubbing your balls on my ass during the show I’ll
tell the boss to fire you!”
He pushed his body to hers forcing her to retread to the wall of the alley. He
cupped her face with both his, bringing his fleshy lips on hers.
“Com’ on, Rach; the clients love it and would love it more if you’re fucked by
a real man and not those stupid sticks.”
Jack saw her teeth flash angrily.
“I don’t want your pricks near me: that was the deal! If it changes I’m out of
here! And now back off!”
But he didn’t instead he cornered her more, his groin pressing her hip.
“I know; you just like the pain. OK, babe; I’ll give you more pain than you
ever felt and you’ll adore my thick dick…It’ll take only one time…”
He nibbled the girl’s neck and Jack saw her grinding her teeth and grunt as her
knee hammered his throbbing groin. The giant yelled surprised and bent yet his
pincher of a hand grabbed the girl’s upper arm stopping her from fleeing.
However the girl was tough and kicked the man’s face who cursed furious.
“You bitch! I’ll tear you to pieces!”
Yet he stayed with his mouth agape as Jack stabbed him in the shoulder and
smacked his head with a stone, laughing maniac.
The girl straightened her posture and crossed her arms on the chest. She didn’t
seem unsettled even when her gaze fell on her co-star’s blood stained body. She
raised her indifferent eyes to Jack.
“And who are you?” she frowned.
He giggled.
“Uuuuuuu! You’re not afraid, huh?”
She lifted an eyebrow sarcastic.
“Should I?”
Jack laughed and bowed.
“Nooooooot at all, pain Queen; I only want to open your horizons aaaaand
utilize youuuuur unique skills to make both of us rich aaaaand powerful.”
She rolled her eyes and snorted.
“I’m not a whore, Mister…”
“Oh! But I knooooow, dear; you’re a laaaw school student. I’m Jack by the way.”
She snorted.
“I’m Rachel; I hope you don’t expect a handshake…”
“Hehehe! No buuuuut I expect you to help me with this dooooork” he pointed with
his eye to the man on the ground.
She lolled her head at the side.
“Is he dead?” she asked completely indifferent.
Jack kicked him on the ribs.
“Nah! But when he weaks up he’ll wish he was, hehehe! You see, my dear pain has
maaaaany thrills besides what you enjoy. Aaaand” he winked smirking “having
control of the pain while giving it to others aaaaand yourself is better than
having some assholes control youuuur pain.”
He tilted his head towards her licking his lips.
“Doooo you want me to show you?”
Jack saw her eyes shining intrigued as a crooked smile carved her sweet cheeks.
“He doesn’t have any relatives…” she offered and Jack’s eyes glistened for the
girl’s wit.
Jack was watching satisfied Rachel’s smart eyes waiting eagerly for her co-star
to wake so to find himself tied spread eagled on a wooden table completely
naked and leashed. Jack had a perfect secluded shed and nobody would hear the
screams…
Jack could hear Rachel’s uneven breaths as he was stabbing the man’s torso
making small, shallow cuts before cutting deeper and provoking louder screams
from the man who for someone working in the pain industry was rather quick to
cry and beg.
“Please, Rachel!” he began screaming as Jack cut his first nipple and the man’s
blood squirt in the air; Rachel’s face glowing with arousal.
Her face was hot and red as the man’s – Todd’s – body squirmed desperately on
his tight bindings trying vainly to escape the blade that severed his second
nipple.
“Rachel, I’m sorry…” he cried “tell him to stop!”
Yet Jack could hear the woman’s fast heartbeat raised from the despair and
suffering of the man. She smiled when the man yelled as Jack’s blade began its
travel to his belly button grazing deeply his skin and when reached the navel
the edge of the knife dived in the tiny cavity twisting inside grinding the
flesh.
She was watching greedily when Jack pierced his right ball and started ripping
it from inside to the man’s utterly embarrassing baby crying. The man’s tied
hands and feet twitched spasmodic and he begged again as his ball became an
assortment of flesh rags filling with blood and destroyed flesh the wood.
Todd passed out and Jack used a liquid to wake him. He gave the blade to Rachel
and she regarded him puzzled.
“Improvise, suuuuugar!”
Todd looked desperately in Rachel’s eyes and shook his head in denial.
“Please, Rachel…No!”
She smiled benevolently and gave the blade back to Jack.
“I’m still a student…”
Jack nodded and submerged the blade in the base of the man’s penis a plangent
howl leaving his convulsing body; yet Jack dragged slowly the blade through the
blood flooded penis severing the head. The clown continued to cut from the base
his left ball.
The man twitched in his bindings like a dying fish screaming and sobbing till
he collapsed at the blood painted table.
“This is…” Rachel whispered between her rasps.
“The first orgasm youuuuu experienced, huh?” he winked and Rachel’s eyes became
steel. “OOOOOOK, dear; that was personal, sorry. However you see how thrilling
it is and that fella is still alive…”
Rachel put her hands in the pockets of her jeans.
“You need to dispose of the body” she lifted an eyebrow “because even if he
doesn’t have any relatives a body still can’t be ignored by the cops.”
Jack nodded smirking; his eyes were gleeful.
“Dooooo you want more excitement? Fo-llow me!”
Rachel’s body was writhing and her breath was caught in her lungs as her former
partner was twitching weakly hanged from his wrists feebly trying exhausted to
avoid the slow descending in the toxic wastes that formed a lake in a desert
area far from the city.
Jack giggled as he teased the poor man descending him till the surface and
raising him again feeding him false hope.
“Theeese wastes are veeeeery effective: there will be nothing left of him not
even his bones…”
He pressed a button and this time let the man’s feet plunge the toxic swamp a
sharp scream piercing the quietness of the area as the flesh melt and then the
bones. The man convulsed a bit more and Jack laughing submerged him to the
knees and this time the desperate scream was his last. Jack bored sent the
entire body into the toxic mud and when the chain rose there was nothing left.
“I told youuuuu that nothing would be left…”
But Rachel was hunched throwing up and Jack brushed her back helping her stand.
“The first time is aaaalways tough; next time it’ll be better. Now we have to
talk about one of the club’s clients: an Edward Rothmeyer; the club does
private shows for him.”
She wiped her mouth.
“You want to kill him?”
Jack laughed amused.
“Nah! I have more am-bitious plans for him…”
Rachel lifted an eyebrow and Jack noticed the smart glittering of her eyes.
“And what I get from that?” she asked flatly.
Jack giggled and hopped.
“I liiike you, girl!” he clapped. “Money, fame…”
“Fuck fame!” she had crossed her arms on the chest.
“Nooooo fame then.” He gave her his Cheshire smile. “Moooooore and eeendless
fun!”
Joker focused his stare at Bruce Wayne’s photo from the Police’s ball. Rachel
learnt quickly to enjoy every aspect of the show without flinching. Rachel
loved to feel pain and then learnt to love watching and rarely causing pain.
Brucey didn’t enjoy pain, didn’t choose pain but his whole life was in pain and
all this pain made the pure little angel cry and now being always sad. But not
for long… Joker was here: after his success with Rachel he was sure that he
would teach Bruce to laugh with all that pain, to see his life in a new light
as Joker did: as nothing more than a joke.
And then there was the mysterious Batman with his delicious wrath and his
fighting skill that Joker so much enjoyed in that video. Joker would love to
seduce that rodent into using his power to cause him thrills and Brucey could
help with that. Brucey was seduction incarnated even if he didn’t want it. Or
even more because he didn’t want it. Joker was determined to conquer that
elusive ugly and for that soooo beautiful city taking the two most fascinating
beings that city had.
ABC’s newscaster from the open TV relayed the news about the Rothmeyer scandal.
 
“Oh! Wayne! I didn’t expect to see you here today…” Dagget laughed from his
seat at the board’s table.
Bruce was crossing the room to the conference table perfectly confident in his
Armani grey suit; it was one in the afternoon and the room which was at the top
floor of the Wayne Tower was drenched in natural light. He turned his gaze at
Dagget unfazed by the heavy irony while opening his briefcase on the round
glass table.
“Then I’m surprised you aren’t already sat on my seat…” he answered calmly but
some of the board members snorted to Dagget. “I’m the President of the board:
there’s no other place I should be today and in this particular time.”
Truth be told he craved to be anywhere else and he had too many candidates to
chose: wandering the Narrows and the Docks spying in hopes to find any lead to
Joker, deciphering the League’s ‘e g i s’ project, scrutinizing the details of
the hospital before Selina executed the breaking. Yet Wayne Enterprises were as
important; his father’s company suffered a lot and was still under the ominous
eyes of many wolfs. And the board meeting was scheduled. At least he had the
time to supervise the last preparations of the grand opening and the security;
with Joker on the loose he couldn’t rule out anything.
Tony and Lucius hadn’t come yet and Bruce knew that they were at the laboratory
working copiously. Pepper surely was with her boss briefing him for some last
minute details which for him was done by Ms. Philips who was in her office
stand by for anything he might need.
“I believed that you wouldn’t dare leave the Manor after the breach to your
office and that madman’s attack. And I don’t see Superman” he looked around the
whole wall windows "guarding the building or Ironman in the room.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Dagget but even though some people tried to
make me feel unsafe in my father’s company, this company is my home and nothing
will keep me away from it.”
Dagget raised his eyebrows and smirked, as if saying without uttering ‘not for
long’.
Tony entered the spacious room buttoning his jacket with Pepper on his heels
informing him from the notes she had on the tablet. Immediately Tony’s eyes
settled on Dagget and a vein pulsed angrily on his temple; how he wanted to
punch that worm into throwing up everything he knew about Luthor. Yet Bruce’s
gaze was appeasing and meaningful as Pepper’s tweak on his upper arm.
“Ouch!” he exclaimed low. “That hurt!”
Pepper leaned on his ear.
“Don’t tell me that Ironman fears a tiny tweak…”
“You hit a nerve and your nails are lethal…” he protested and took his seat
beside Bruce.
Lucius came in a couple of minutes later and took his seat too after
apologizing for the delay. Only then Bruce sat at the head of the table and
began the briefing about the Haven’s official opening tomorrow.
Dagget shook his head in disbelief.
“A project with a gargantuan cost and no profit while the company struggles
with the worse crisis of its history…” he spat.
“Wayne Enterprises’ shares” Lucius retaliated “are stable after a considerable
uprising…”
Dagget tilted his head and rolled his eyes bored.
“But not to the pre-Brucey levels…” he pointed raising an eyebrow and Tony
pressed his lips restraining himself. “We have lost loads of money from the
abyssal drop after the Falcone scandal and the…” he snorted “…President spends
the limited capacities of this company to pay tribute to his parents.”
Fredericks jolted irritated.
“And is this bad?”
“When it endangers the company’s survival!”
Tony stood.
“The project was approved by this board even under Falcone’s Presidency and it
is fulfilled with my funds.”
Bruce was completely calm and turned to his friend.
“Tony, calm down” he mouthed to him and his friend sat again.
Dagget however continued.
“But after Bruce Wayne ‘returned’ from the dead and the Haven took his parents’
name our beloved President” his voice waved sarcastic “gave a lot of money for
the project. Stark Industries have the luxury of funding charities but Wayne
Enterprises in the given moment don’t.”
Some of the share holders exchanged worried glances and some looked at Bruce
who was hearing Dagget’s speech quite calm.
“To quell Mr. Dagget’s worry which I see that many of you share I inform you
that the money that was channeled to the “Haven” was in its entirety taken from
my personal fortune; thus no amount of money was withdrawn from the company’s
deposits. And in order to eradicate every doubt” he took a pack of prints from
his briefcase “here you can see the balance sheets of the last three months.
Miss Potts, if you may?”
Pepper was already on his side taking the pack and passing the copies to the
members of the board.
Dagget curved his lips as the paper in front of him affirmed Wayne’s saying. He
shook his head.
“You might not have used company’s money in a straight forward way yet as the
project advertises hundreds of people are educated and trained to be employed
in Wayne Enterprises.” He raised his eyebrows. “Unemployed, homeless, whores,
mentally retarded all of them meant to work and more important get salaries
from Wayne Enterprises” he laughed dryly. “Our company will be the one with the
most unqualified personnel in the world. Not to mention that even companies at
their peak do cuts of their staff due to the recession and Mr. Wayne not only
doesn’t show any intention of reducing the employees but also creates new
jobs…” he opened his arms. “Mr. Wayne is clearly completely clueless
on administration and his amateur, childish moves lead the company to
disaster.”
A sudden murmur took over a part of the oval glass table and Tony fisted his
hands but Bruce’s smile made him cool down. His friend seemed entirely in
control.
“Mr. Dagget is right” Bruce raised his voice over the murmurs demanding in a
subtle way everyone’s attention. “At the beginning of the recession many
companies with positive balance sheet proceeded to massive cuts of their
working force afraid of a potential decrease to their profits or even
liabilities. However as the experience has proved reducing the personnel led to
the shortening of those companies’ consumption and thus to further decrease of
their profits or increased liabilities. Studies have shown that unemployment
deepens the crisis and thus the declining of companies; on the other hand
creating new jobs boosts the growth of an area and thus people's buying power
which spending capacity will be absorbed by the companies. Helping all these
people to acquire some skills and get some money not only will give hope and
dynamism to these people” Dagget shook his head exasperated laughing amused
“but also Wayne Enterprises will be benefited by their spending power not to
mention the subsidies we’re already receiving because all of these people
belong to sensitive groups under the federal government’s protection.”
Bruce didn’t give a damn about subsidies and profits from helping the suffering
people of Narrows but the vast majority of the board did.
“It would have been more useful if Wayne Enterprises backed the campaign of a
mayor candidate to ensure that the company would enjoy some…gentle handling
crucial in this stage.” Dagget retaliated shaking his head with contempt as if
saying something simple to an idiot.
“Manifesting partiality during the election campaign” Bruce answered confident
“would have created negative impressions and associations with the company’s
dark past, since bribing public and elected officials was a standard tactic of
Falcone.” He pierced with his stern gaze the board members. “Wayne Enterprises
will never use tactics that remind mob deals; Wayne Enterprises is a completely
different entity than Falcone Enterprises AND the company already regains and
will continue to regain the respect that was lost during Falcone’s rule.”
Dagget sniggered and shook his head amused.
“Respect with a President that everybody knows that was a dreadful whore…” he
saw Tony throwing daggers at him grinding his teeth and heard the irritated
reaction of some members. “Fine…” he said soothingly waving his hand “even if
he is considered a victim: how is this helping the status of the company? I
have my doubts about the respect a company will get when its President is the
reason a lunatic kills and spreads mayhem ridiculing the company each time he
declares his intention to fuck our” he snorted “respectful President.” 
A gloomy mood settled in the table and Tony shook his head.
“You’re nothing more than a creep!” he spat to Dagget.
“That coming from Mr. Fucking-Everything-That-Moves and Drink-Like-a-Fish is
flattering!”
Tony smiled.
“Let’s go to the Docks where you belong and settle the matter.’’
Dagget sniggered.
“While you hide behind your armor?”
Lucius gave a sideways glance to Bruce and he nodded. He raised his hands in
the air and Tony stopped before answering realizing that it was useless to
continue. Bruce gave Peppers another pack of prints.
“In these reports you can see the analysis of the cost for training and
employing the people that are already enlisted to the Haven’s working program
and the amounts of subsidies that Wayne Enterprises collected from the federal
government and from United Nations. Wayne Enterprises’ training and working
program is integrated to UN’s international actions for the fight against
impoverishment and social isolation. As you can see the burden for our company
is minimal and overbalanced by the costless advertisement of the Wayne
Enterprises and the long run profits of being a socially active company among
the most respectful companies in the world which are honored with UN’s trust.
And that, as you understand, will give us moral priority and benevolent
treatment in competition for governmental projects.”
Tony looked at his friend with widened eyes; he didn’t know that Bruce had
integrated the ‘Haven’ to UN’s action. Pepper smiled discreetly as Lucius and
Mr. Fredericks.
“I’m grateful to Miss Potts’ assistance into bringing the Wayne Enterprises
back among the decent entrepreneurial world.”
Dagget smiled wickedly; Wayne was a tough nut and he wished that clown had
achieved his purpose.
“Did Falcone hammer in you economics along with his dick?” he sniggered.
Pepper frowned, Lucius darkened and Fredericks exclaimed outrageous while Tony
downed his fist on the table. Bruce however was completely unfazed from the
insult.
“Actually it was extracurricular activity” he said lifting a brow.
“It’s important for you to have some knowledge about these things” Ra’s’ smug
voice returned to his ears from years ago.
“I always wanted to be a neurosurgeon like my father…”
“It isn’t a matter of what you want” his master said with conviction.
Bruce’s nonchalant answer erased the smirk from Dagget’s face and restored the
peace of the meeting.
“If we’re done with Mr. Dagget’s very informative comments” Bruce stressed his
words “we can proceed to the new projects Wayne Enterprises will introduce and
first the ‘Meta-phrase 1.0’ application. It’s a translate application for every
kind of software that surpasses every existing application of the kind.”
Dagget laughed and waved his hand in the air.
“You’re an idiot, Wayne! You’ll launch a translator while there are hundreds of
such applications free of charge? You believe that you can beat computer
companies with decades of history in the market?”
Bruce shrugged.
“Not at all. How can an idiot compete with those giants?” he said innocently.
“We’ll cooperate with them because unlike the existing applications ours offers
a near perfect translation with results similar to the human professional
translator. Mr. Fox has already begun discussions with professionals of various
fields who are thrilled with the quality of the translation. Furthermore there
is already interest from companies in the high tech field to include our
application to their software. Mr. Fox will give you the technical details of
the application and the developments in the promotion.”
Lucius began explaining everything to the share holders with his elegant self
confident way and Bruce saw clearly their satisfaction for the prospects. Only
then he sipped from his orange juice catching Tony’s sideways glance; he saw
approval and pride in his best friend’s carbon like eyes and Pepper’s discreet
smile was encouraging.
Bruce wanted to prove that he was granted the President chair not only because
of emotional reasons and his name but also because he could manage the duties
and steer the Enterprises to thrive.
After Lucius’ presentation some members of the board made further questions
which Lucius answered with grace and easiness.
“And now I’d like your attention about the most ambitious project of both Stark
Industries and Wayne Enterprises.”
“It’s the health project which we approved during the last board meeting?”
Fredericks asked.
Bruce nodded.
“At Haven’s grand opening we’ll make the official announcement of our joint
venture which is sure to shake the medicine world – the Press Release has been
already sent to the biggest news outlets.”
“Really now?” Dagget raised an eyebrow. “And why we didn’t have thorough info
about this till now?”
Tony was tired of being silent.
“Because, Dagget, if someone inside Wayne Enterprises gave infos for the
manufacturing of a weapon able to destroy the special formula of the Tower’s
glass hoping for the President’s murder then it’s positive that he would have
done the same thing with our new project.”
Bruce nodded.
“We wanted to ensure that details about our venture wouldn’t leak to
competitors. However now I’m glad to announce you that the trials had
outstanding results so we’re ready to present it to the public and the medical
community.”
Dagget crossed his fingers on the table lolling his head irritated.
“Well, what’s all this about?”
Bruce explained to the board members in general the project about the
artificial body members made exactly as the normal parts and the use of the arc
reactor technology in the connection and control of these members from the
human brain exactly as if the neurons weren’t disrupted; also the same
technology could be used into minimizing the functionality difficulties from
diseases that hit the brain’s skill to control movements such as Parkinson or
Alzheimer’s.
Tony and Lucius presented some of the technical details and Pepper analyzed the
financial aspects of the project.
When Bruce returned to his office he had the impression that the board members
were more than satisfied from his ministrations. He was confident before the
meeting still he felt relief as his gaze wandered to the city from his repaired
whole wall window.
He had left his door opened for Tony who had stayed in the meeting room a bit
more.
His friend closed the door, approached his friend and gave him a beer can
sipping from his own. Bruce frowned at him.
“It’s non-alcohol” Tony answered. “Today we celebrate, buddy.”
“You think?” Bruce asked and took the beer.
“You kicked their ass, Bruce: they were impressed, they didn’t expect such
innovative and smart moves from a new man in the field like you.”
“Especially from Falcone’s toy, huh?”
Tony raised his eyebrows and tilted his head nodding.
“Especially that UN movement was ingenious.”
“I had to find something to bend their inevitable objections to employing
people from the Narrows. I wouldn’t have managed without Pepper’s help.”
“Congrats, then!” he raised his can and Bruce hit it with his before sipping.
“Imagine them after the announcement for the bionic body parts when the shares
launch after the announcement of the project and the money starts rolling.”
“It wouldn’t have been realized without you, Lucius and Pepper.”
Tony patted his back.
“For these things inspiration is half the project and inspiration was yours” he
hit Bruce’s can.
Bruce made an approving sound after sipping from the can.
“This is nice!” he told Tony.
“Where did you learn all these?”
Bruce shrugged.
“It’s not that much… Ra’s show me some things just to be able to spy on
Falcone’s trade moves. However the most important for him was to teach me how
to be undetectable while spying” his voice was casual.
But Tony looked him a little suspicious.
“You’ll go out?” he asked.
Bruce nodded.
“You’ll use the caverns?”
Bruce rolled his eyes and sighed.
“Oh! Tony I wish I never had told you about that nightmare and that the demon
told me that he was watching me in the caves. I wander that caves more than a
decade and nothing lurks there apart from stalactites, bats and me. The demon’s
only realm was my head” he smiled but Tony’s eyes were serious. “Can you erase
it from your mind as I have done? The only demons I met were very much humans.”
Tony pressed his lips and lowered his head; he just couldn’t forget what Bruce
told him neither the blood streaming from the cut kryptonite. The younger man
pierced him with his eyes as if reading him.
“Please, Tony, forget it; don’t torment yourself with that” he said mildly and
Tony nodded downing the last of his beer.
“I don’t like you roaming Gotham’s shady places without the armor.”
Bruce closed his eyes and sipped some beer. Of course Tony would be worrying
about him; Tony still saw him as the sweet little kid that he played with at
the Manor’s grounds.
“I won’t be there as Bruce Wayne; also I must remind you that I’m perfectly
able to defend myself and despite Gotham’s reputation they don’t jump at you as
soon as they set their eyes on you – it helps that the sun still has not set”
he laughed.
Tony though didn’t laugh.
“I don’t trust Gotham; I wish I could persuade you to leave this shithole.”
Bruce stilled his eyes on Tony’s and straightened his posture.
“I love this shithole, Tony; I care for her and I would never abandon her to
this scum. Even if I was forced to stay away, Gotham would always be with me
calling me back…” he shook his head. “You didn’t smell the sea breeze after
midnight, you didn’t see her from high above stretching graciously under the
star filled sky, you didn’t walk on the shadowy alleys...”
“You should hate those alleys…” Tony muttered.
Bruce closed his eyes and lowered his head.
“My soul is in these alleys…” he said hoarse and Tony pressed his lips and
brushed Bruce’s upper arms.
Tony sensed the things Bruce didn’t want to tell: that his innocent soul was
trapped in those filthy, blood stained streets; that he was a prisoner of this
city as much as he was of Falcone and Ra’s Al Ghul. That despite the pain he
experienced in the limits of this city, Gotham was the place where he lived the
happy years with his parents, where he met Tony and then Selina. He had loved
the people of this place since he was a toddler and still loved them; the pain
and suffering he’d been through only making his understanding and his
connection with the less fortunate Gothamites stronger. Tony understood that
Bruce had been merged with Gotham through pain; even Gotham’s guts had
witnessed Bruce’s pain and gave him haven… Bruce’s and Gotham’s pain became
one…
Bruce was staring at him with his ‘detective’ eyes and Tony didn’t want to know
his thoughts; they were too serious for Tony Stark.
“You said that after that incident in Dolcetto you won’t use ‘Freddy’ to your
undercover work.”
The younger man nodded.
“Unfortunately I didn’t have the time to build another character so I’ll just
meddle with the crowd: I used that technique too during my training.”
Tony frowned.
“You consider it safe when there’s a chance the League is in the city?”
Bruce sipped the last of his beer.
“There are things that can’t wait. I must get Joker…” he lowered his voice. “I
owe that to Dick and I promised him…”
“Dick?” he tilted his head.
“Brian Phelps’ brother.”
Tony licked his lips and nodded. Of course the Phelps family: Bruce’s guilt.
“I thought the boy didn’t have a brother.”
“From his mother’s first marriage: Mary Phelps was married with John Grayson…”
Tony frowned and stretched his index.
“The…”
Bruce nodded.
“The Olympic champion in gymnastics. He died in an accident during practice
when Mary was pregnant to Dick.”
Tony ruffled his head uncomfortably and sighed.
“That city is full of tragedy…”
“And that’s why I can’t abandon her. I’ll do whatever I can to change that.”
The older man shook his hand. Not that he didn’t understand his friend’s noble
cause – after all, Bruce was like that from his childhood – but he wished his
friend could have a careless life for a bit.
“Let me come with you… I mean discreetly” he caught Bruce’s denial “at least
when you go patrolling.”
“Ironman shouldn’t be connected with Batman, Tony. At Chelsea Bridge you were
fighting to stop Joker from attacking Bruce Wayne but patrolling with Batman
would be odd.”
Tony lolled his head to the side.
“I guess I should take a stroll at Malibu… But I feel uneasy with the League
possibly watching you.”
“It’ll be good if they make a move.”
“Good for whom?” Tony grimaced.
The intercom’s buzz stopped Bruce’s answer; he walked to his desk and pressed
the button.
 “Mr. Wayne, I’m sorry to interrupt but Ms. Turner asks to see you” Ms.
Philips, his secretary, told him.
“I’ll see her, Ms. Philips.”
He hastened to throw the beer cans in the wastebasket under Tony’s amused
expression.
“I had asked from Mr. Collins to keep it secret…”
Tony frowned.
“What?”
“The fund I created for Dick and the monthly subsidy…”
The older man shrugged.
“People are not stupid, buddy.”
Ms. Philips ushered Ms. Turner inside and left. Bruce shook hands with her and
Tony approached interested.
“I’m sorry for the nuisance, Mr. Wayne” the old lady said a bit flushed.
“Not at all, Ms. Turner; I’m always here for you and Richard. This is my best
friend Tony Stark; Tony, this is Ms. Turner.”
Tony smiled politely and shook hands with Ms. Turner.
“Nice to meet you, madam!”
“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Stark” she smiled fondly.
Tony realizing that the old lady wanted to speak to Bruce in private turned to
his friend.
“Bruce, I must return to the lab” Bruce nodded. “Good afternoon, Ms. Turner.”
“To you too, Mr. Stark.”
 “Please have a seat” Bruce told her after they were left alone gesturing to
the sofa. “May I offer you something?”
“Thank you, dear; no, I’m fine.”
Bruce nodded and sat as well. The woman looked at him in the eyes.
“I learnt about the money… Mr. Wayne, you shouldn’t…”
Bruce sighed; it was what he didn’t want.
“I hoped that they wouldn’t reveal my name.”
She smiled.
“It wasn’t so difficult to figure out although they refused to say: you see,
Dick’s father didn’t have any relatives to care about the boy. You shouldn’t
have done that, son…” she took his hands in hers.
“I wanted to do it, Ms. Turner; it was the least I could do and I want the best
for you and Dick. I mean” he was afraid that the old lady might feel insulted
“I know that you’ll do everything for Dick but I needed to…” he lowered his
eyes; he didn’t know how to express some things but the woman’s kind eyes were
helpful. “You’re the only family he’s left now and I hoped to make your life a
bit easier.”
Ms. Turner pressed her lips.
“I know, dear, yet your moral support is enough for us; the money…”
Bruce shook his head.
“It’s just overpriced paper! My parents, the few years I’ve been with them,
taught me that money is good only when make people’s life better. It’s only
money, Ms. Turner and I know that it won’t change anything, it won’t bring back
what you and Dick lost but at least maybe it helps Dick find his path with your
guidance… Don’t deny the money, Ms. Turner, please…”
The woman closed her eyes. Bruce knew that they needed the money but still he
was afraid.
“It’s not charity, believe me!” he said flushed. “And it’ll make me feel a
little better…” he added shyly.
Ms. Turner looked him and shook her head in denial. Her eyes were tearful.
“No, dear, no. It wasn’t your fault; you must not feel like this… Oh, I was
terrified hearing that this monster attacked you…” she wiped her eyes. “It was
like living again the night my children were killed…” her voice cracked.
“How is Dick?” Bruce asked and offered his cotton handkerchief to her.
“Thank you. He is a tough kid, he smiles to reassure and encourage me but I
hear him crying in his sleep and mumbling his brother’s name…”
Bruce felt a pang in his chest.
“I’ll tell him about…”
Bruce shook his head.
“No! He must not know” he lowered his voice “I don’t want him to think that I
try to” laughed dryly “buy his forgiveness…”
The old lady’s eyes widened.
“He is too young to understand, son; don’t, don’t take it seriously. He’ll
understand that it wasn’t your fault.”
He smiled.
“Don’t tell him anything, Ms. Turner, please.”
“If that is what you want…” she nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Wayne; your concern and
love for us give me strength to fight the pain and continue living for Dick…”
She burst in tears that it was obvious that she held inside for days and Bruce
hugged her with the excruciating pain of the moment he saw his parents dead
surging his body from the corner of his mind where it was hidden. He was seeing
again his mother’s softly closed eyes after the shot exactly as the times she
fell asleep while trying to lull him and his father’s widened eyes urging him
even in death to run, to save his life.
***** Chapter 39 *****
Bruce was dressed as a typical Gotham punk: weathered, faded, torn jeans that
looked too large for him, jean jacket in the same condition, faded and ripped
plimsolls without laces and a jokey hat on the hood of his T-shirt that
concealed most of his face; along with his zipped to the neck jacket only his
nose was clearly visible however he still slid through the shadows which were
thicker at the Docks.
Workers did their break at this time and Bruce recognized some of their huddles
from Freddy’s days. In every corner of the Docks people spoke about Joker but
nobody knew something on his whereabouts or didn’t dare to utter it and chose
to talk about ‘innocent’ things.
“Cops are goin’ nuts!” a busty thug said to his company of workers.
“I don’t blame ‘em, bro” an Afro-American shrugged. “With that loony free and
the elections today…”
“Yep” a third spoke. “They didn’t wanna let the city without mayor an’ decided
to do the vote anyways.”
“Who’s gonna vote? Everyon’ knows that mayors are wast’ of space.”
The thug shrugged laughing and gulped from a flask of whiskey.
“Not me: they’re both losers…”
Suddenly in one of the small gatherings one guy uttered his puzzlement about
Freddy’s disappearance and Bruce couldn’t resist hearing.
“Good ol’ Freddy used to com’ her’ this hour; ya think he kicked the bucket?”
The other took a bite from his sandwich and shrugged.
“Eithe’ some punk gut ‘im or he went to that “Haven”; Gotham got crazier with
that freak. The looniest crooks go to ‘im for job ‘cause he ‘as no limits… Even
tha mob fears ‘im…” he shook his head.
The first nodded.
“Crazier that’s for sure… Even buildings got haunted…”
The others sniggered but Bruce stretched his ears.
“Ya…Ya… That ancient warehouse – ya know – tha 28 that nobody ever uses… I
heard moans and screams…”
A third laughed.
“How many gins ya downed?”
“I not!” the man protested but the rest of the company roared in laughter.
Bruce knew that warehouse: was indeed too old from the first buildings in the
docks used at the beginning as customs’ offices and then as a warehouse till
even the mobsters thought it very dangerous to accommodate their activities and
was left to rot. Well, for Joker nothing was too dangerous.
It was rather isolated from the other buildings in the area but still Bruce
kept his guard. He meant to scan the place for Joker and if he was there to
return as Batman to get him.
However even from a distance the warehouse looked deserted and his trained
senses didn’t detect any presence even when he reached the back wall. He
frowned; either the worker was indeed drunk when heard the sounds or Joker had
left the place. Anyway, he had to enter the building to search for evidence or
a clue as to where the clown might have gone; if he was here at some point.
He climbed the wall to the second level of the building and slipped inside from
one of the broken windows. Spider webs stuck to his clothes and he was
instantly swallowed by the dark since the last sun rays didn’t reach the
building’s insides.
He didn’t light any flashlight because he didn’t want to draw attention from
outside (not that people frequented in the area) but anyway dark was his
element and he could easily orient and evade the cracked beams of the floor.
At the upper level’s rooms there wasn’t any trace of human presence. But as he
began descending the derelict stairs so silently and easy as if he was on the
Manor’s marble main stairs he heard the characteristic sound of riffling and
cursing. He saw the dull light of flashlight but the most prominent for his
senses was the smell; the truth was that that smell hit him as soon as he
entered the building, at the upper level and he thought that it was due to the
longtime closure. However as he approached the ground level the smell was
stronger and fouler so much that he heaved his T-shirt to cover his nose and
mouth. Undoubtedly the scent of decaying carcass.
Someone was there, a scavenger. He let the shadows engulf him and approached as
a predator.
A hunched man had gathered around him a couple of wallets and was searching
them, dropping their content on the floor. Bruce snatched suddenly the man’s
hand and twisted it on his back crushing him to the wall.
The man yelled surprised and terrified.
“What are you doing?” he growled with Batman’s voice.
“No-nothin’…” Bruce twisted more his arm and the man cried. “I…I swear…I’m just
stealin’…no-no stealin’…they don’t need them any…anymore. Jo-Joker did it!”
“How do you know?!”
“I…I was her’.” Bruce took the man in a chokehold and he began trembling worse.
“I work for ‘im! But I didn’t do anyth’! He kill ‘em!”
Bruce turned his gaze to the place where the man’s eyes darted. On the opposite
wall masses hanged but didn’t seem like bodies.
“Where’s Joker?!” he roared the vague spectacle of the wall enraging him and
tightened more his grip.
“I don’t know…” he cried “he killed ‘em with that funny gun he took from the
warehouse they guarded, he left an’ didn’t tell us!”
Bruce twisted the man’s wrist causing a yell.
“Joker: where he came from?! Speak!”
“I don’t know, please! He came to me when I was let out from Arkham! Please, I
didn’t know… I…I just needed the money!”
Bruce grinded his teeth and pressed a spot in the man’s neck. The man slipped
on the floor and Bruce after taking the flashlight the man had left on the
floor walked to the opposing wall bracing himself for what he’d see.
He pointed the light on the wall and for an instant he closed his eyes.
From the wall hanged eight bodies…though calling them bodies was an euphemism.
Their hands were stretched on the wall and their bound wrists were attached to
metal rings; their heads were dropped to the chests with the same grotesque
expressions of utter terror and ultimate pain in their bulged eyes. And Bruce
saw the reason of the terror and the deep wrinkles from the yells of pain:
their bowels hovered from their ripped bellies… Hovered over nothing: their
pelvis and thighs was absent only a thin layer of skin connecting the calves
with the torso…
Bruce felt a bit dizzy and paled imagining the pain those people suffered. So
that was what the weapon could do to a human… And Joker almost got to Tony… He
shuddered and closed his eyes: he had another reason to be grateful to Selina…
He focused his mind away from the disgust and the sorrow. Those people were
guarding the warehouse where Joker found the weapon; they were the only people
who could tell who hired them and they were dead…
Although his mood was terrible he felt relieved he had worn the contact lenses
for changing his eyes’ color; because as every Lucius’ invention the lenses did
more things. He touched his iris and the lenses began taking photos of the
scene that was filled with Joker cards and he took one of them using a safety
pin as tweezers and shoving it to a clear sheet protector he took from the
office. While he was spying he couldn’t carry the typical forensics supplies in
case he was attacked so he improvised.
He remembered the wallets Joker’s thug was searching. He kneeled and took one
of them; he didn’t intent on taking with him the wallets only to search them
but still police wouldn’t find his fingerprints since they were covered with a
special substance that immediately after the application took the texture of
the real skin.
The wallets didn’t have anything inside except for bills. Bruce pressed his
lips and then raised his eyebrows; you didn’t expect to find an ID to the
wallet of a thug or a credit card unless stolen… Yet the bills could offer a
clue about their hirer: so he took photos of every single note in the wallets.
Later he could cross the serial numbers of the notes to trace them to the bank
from where they were taken.
Then he left the building and called the police from a phone booth.
 
 
Batman stood on the ledge of a rooftop watching the street bellow. It was ten
o’ clock in the night and he had some hours before returning to the cave to
watch Selina’s mission.
Below, at Garcia’s campaign office people were celebrating their candidate’s
victory while a vast screen played the new mayor’s first statements to Vicky
Vale. Batman was relieved that Joker didn’t choose this day to hit; maybe it
was too early after his escape or most likely he prepared to hit at the Haven’s
opening. He didn’t want to risk people’s lives in the opening but the city
couldn’t be terrorized into withdrawing from her activities.
He lolled his head to the sky; it was a nice night. And the fact that he
was stripped from Bruce’s burdens as soon as he donned the armor was a reason.
With Batman he was free even from himself because Batman didn’t carry the
things Bruce carried as a heavy chain… Plus nobody could see his face that
stirred to people the emotions he detested; there was only Batman and fear was
the only thing he stirred to others.
Only one being could spoil his feeling; a being whose eyes he sensed many times
during his patrol. Despite the fact his armor didn’t permit any of his vitals
to be detected that damn effect enabled Superman to sense his presence and
locate him. So he used his ninjutsu training to evade the alien. He didn’t want
to speak to him, there was nothing to tell: he was pissed with him.
Superman took advantage of his trust and his effort to save a life to capture
him in a video that made him a star reporter… Nice… He made his career so what
did he want from him now? And if they got close, Superman’s condition would
deteriorate.
Many times however he considered to reveal his presence to Superman in order to
show him how disappointed he was…no, no, disappointed, mad. He could take
advantage of Kent’s weakness too…But no…It was his fault after all that Clark’s
behavior changed and that he was weak both in strength and decency. He was
anxious for the day Clark would take the antidote and leave without looking
back.
He closed his eyes behind the lenses. Then he would be able to dedicate
completely to his mission and relax without the threat of…without having to
waste his time with love-nonsense. Love wasn’t for him; love was twisting his
insides…and once again almost distracted him.
He sensed again eyes watching him but it weren’t Clark’s this time. It was a
very discreet presence, someone who knew how to conceal himself – no, herself –
yet not from him.
He’d think of Selina but she was in Boston and after all these years he could
tell her presence even from hundreds of yards.
He dived into the void and spread his wings feeling the eyes following him and
then he mixed with the shadows making himself invisible.
He could sense his stalker’s confusion as she tried to discern him but he was
approaching soundless like a ghost; he could see her back. She wore black, the
traditional black uniform of the ninja, and her long, black hair brushed her
waist. She was still searching for him in the shadows.
He was ready to attack her but she was gone before his eyes like a blur. He
could see her as she ran, almost flying through the alley beneath the building
enveloped by the shadows. He followed her with one thought in his mind: the
League of Shadows or some hired assassin from Asia.
He was sure that she was doing everything she could to be invisible but he
still traced her as she jumped and climbed to a nearby rooftop and then again
to an alley, trying to evade him or just luring him to a trap. Yet he didn’t
sense any other presence lurking.
She was fast and agile yet he was close to catch her when a scream for help
reached him and he couldn’t ignore that even if he was to lose his stalker.
He finished rapidly with two grips the robber so to try to find again the
female ninja but the sign of the bat inside the round shaped light told him
that he had to stop.
Jim and Harvey were waiting on the MCU’s rooftop and Batman felt a new wave of
irritation for the DA this time. He landed behind them without anyone of them
realizing and approached noiseless.
Jim turned his head surprised but not shocked and Harvey followed.
“We found the bodies of eight people in Warehouse 28: they were gutted and
their pelvis and thighs…melted; Joker’s cards were scattered at the scene.”
Batman nodded.
“It was you who called then?”
“The thug said that Joker used on them the same gun he used at the Wayne
Tower’s attack.”
“It’s a very dangerous weapon” Harvey said yet Batman didn’t acknowledge him.
“We must find who manufactured it.”
“Yes” Jim agreed looking with a frown Batman puzzled for his coldness towards
Dent. “And neutralize it before it ends up in the wrong hands.”
Harvey clenched his waist.
“Forensics couldn’t find something leading to a company…”
“The dead thugs could give us their hirer.”
Gordon nodded.
“The guy we found there…” he cast a glance to Batman “said that Joker captured
them when he snatched the gun. However there’s nothing…”
Batman pierced him with his solemn lenses.
“The bills in their wallets have serial numbers of Metropolis’ banks.”
Gordon frowned but Harvey yanked his head eager.
“Luthor?”
Batman looked at Gordon.
“We don’t have enough evidence and it’s too early to say or do anything.”
Now Harvey rolled his eyes irritated by Batman’s obvious disdain.
“The gun has to be disabled now; anyone could…”
Batman’s reproachful gaze although Harvey couldn’t see his real eyes fell on
him.
“I know” the familiar growl seemed angrier “people get easily inside MCU
without any repercussions.”
Harvey gaped at him realizing that he was referring to Rachel and he…he was
right.
“Rachel didn’t…I mean she made a mistake driven by her sorrow for her dead
employer but she paid for that. And she regretted it.”
Gordon had his lips pursed and was staring at the cement; the MCU was still
under repair and some fugitives along with Joker was at large. Those arrested
by SWATs and Batman were immediately sent to Blackgate Prison. And two officers
had been killed. He didn’t like the DA’s decision to not press charges on the
woman who fooled the officers into letting her to the cells.
Harvey approached Batman.
“You want me to press charges against her?”
Batman raised his head and pierced him with his artificial stare.
“I’m not the personification of the law in Gotham: you are” he stated sternly
and Harvey bit his lip, lowering his head.
“What about the weapon? We need to disable it.” Jim decided to crack the
silence.
“Stark” Batman snapped.
Harvey raised his gaze.
“Do you trust him?”
“You need to reevaluate the people you trust” Batman replied and Harvey made
some steps away in deep thought.
Gordon approached Batman rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“We know that Joker will attack at the Haven; we have taken every possible
measure.”
Batman nodded and Jim shook his head.
“But I believe that it would be better if the ceremony was postponed till that
man is under custody.’’
“Gotham can’t be held prisoner by one outlaw; that ended with Falcone.’’
“Still that man is unpredictable, ruthless and I can’t feel reassured.”
“Because you’re a good cop” Batman replied solemnly and dived to the void.
Harvey walked to Gordon’s side and followed his gaze in watching the giant
bat’s course in the stary night.
“You’re thinking too that I’m lenient to Rachel?”
Jim shrugged.
“I think you know how to tell the right from the wrong. Yet Miss Dawes’
impunity creates very bad impressions about the DA” he blinked. “And even if
you press charges it’d be only a misdemeanor so your lady friend will land on
her feet and your and justice’s face will be clean.”
Jim walked towards the door leading inside the building and Harvey looked at
the spotlight with the iron bat symbol on.
 
Ironman was floating over Malibu watching from above the frantic night life and
the buzz in the various clubs which he knew so well; he almost fell to the
temptation to withdraw his armor and go there to have an old-days spree. He was
happy, damn it! Life was good! And Dagget’s shitted face after Bruce’s new
victory was a reason to celebrate…
He set to Malibu after Bruce left the Tower for his ventures at Gotham’s slums.
He planned to make some sky strolls over the city, see his house: he didn’t
trust Jarvis…maybe he organized an artificial intelligence orgy in his absence…
Now that would be something for his having-seen-everything beautiful eyes. But
Pepper called while he was dancing with a cloud with the body of Gisele and
informed him – with a smirk, he was sure – that she notified the board members
of Stark Industries for an unscheduled meeting to inform them about the new
project for the bionic body parts.
He had growled frustrated; he had no mood seeing more business pans today. Yet
Pepper was adamant; it would be short and she would cover everything through
Skype. It wouldn’t be nice if their board learnt everything after the grand
opening; they had given their approval to the project benevolently after all.
Benevolently… Tony huffed. As if they have a saying in that…
Anyway, he attended. Oh! He was on his way to be a good boy… No, no, no. Even
now he shook his head in denial. So he sat on the head of the polygonal table
having at least the satisfaction being dressed in jeans and a plain white T-
shirt with Garfield’s Cheshire smile and watched Pepper from the giant screen
presenting the project again for their board’s sake, heard bored and moody the
questions and if anyone asked him something he gestured towards Pepper’s
deliciously angry face on screen. He bid them goodbye, teased Ms. Carnagy at
the foyer and flew away wolf whistling to some lightly dressed girls who
giggled seeing Ironman.
He landed on the beach, deactivated his armor and sucked the clean sea salted
air with his eyes closed: he missed so much the ocean; the smell, the sound,
the view… the bikinis… Ugh! After the end of this madness he’d bring Bruce
again here: his friend had lost the light bronze color he had gained during his
vacations and the calm of the west coast would benefit him.
He lifted an eyebrow and crossed his hands on the chest before turning towards
the tall rock behind him: being close to Bruce made him sensitive to subtle
sounds especially when the guys who made them weren’t ninjas, like his buddy;
Bruce was right when he said that he was training Tony. He smirked taking his
smug expression.
 “What’s up, docs? Reunion party or a dark conspiracy to take Ironman down?”
Thor looked utterly insulted.
“I shall never betray a brother in arms” he slapped his fist on his chest and
Tony heard the bang rolling his eyes.
“You can always be less dramatic, you now?” he grimaced. “You’re not in a
Wagner Opera…”
Thor settled his hands on his sides and just stared solemnly at him.
“And changing that outfit would be helpful…”
Steve walked towards him; thankfully at least he wore jeans and leather jacket.
“He just came from Asgard.”
Tony nodded realizing the absurdity of the situation: a man of the 21st century
in the middle of a Norwegian god of the Viking era and a soldier of the World
War II. He felt like channeling Bruce’s adamant realism right now but in their
crazy world those guys were real too.
“I understand that this ensemble is the latest trend in Asgard but in Malibu?”
he laughed.
Thor was used by now to Tony’s humor so answered him with a genuine smile
behind his golden locks and Tony just grinned back.
“Natasha, dear” he raised his voice. “Get out of the shadows.”
Black Widow seemed quite shaken by Tony’s ability to discern her and Tony
winked: he would thank Bruce for training him by approaching him silently.
“Now, boys and girl, what brings you here? Some action at last?”
Black Widow walked closer piercing him with her cold eyes.
“You shouldn’t complain about that… The Chelsea Bridge Battle must have
stretched your muscles.”
Tony purged his lips; he should have known…
“I spoke about fun - bringing action: Chelsea Bridge Battle was agony…” he said
seriously.
Steve nodded.
“I know how it feels to have your friend’s life at stake.”
Thor crossed his broad arms and yanked his head backwards.
“If you want I can come to Gotham and squash that clown with Mjolnir; thus your
friend will be forever safe. That Joker guy reminds me of Loki…” he grunted.
Tony scratched his head; Thor and his hammer in Gotham…What a frolic! He could
imagine Bruce’s outrage hearing about the god’s intention to squash Joker not
to mention that the madman could steal the hammer from Thor and then there
would be real mayhem… On the other hand the sure thing was that Bruce would
have a fascinating discussion with the Norse god about his theory that gods are
only named that way from people impressed by their powers. He raised his
eyebrows and swallowed a giggle: oh! There would be love at first site.
“You have a Joker in Asgard?” he asked amused. “Nice knowing… I hope he doesn’t
have an interest in Earth like you… The mortal Joker is more than enough! Yet
as I said to Captain here I don’t want any of you there; Gotham is out of
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s reach. Besides I doubt that you could handle that madman” he
tilted his head on the side “he is quite unpredictable and dangerous.”
Thor turned to Steve exchanging a pointed look.
“However there is a brilliant warrior in the city who isn’t afraid of anything”
Captain America said.
Tony twisted his mouth.
“And where’s Dr. Banner? I’m insulted he didn’t attend the unofficial meeting”
he muttered a bit grudgingly because he didn’t want to speak about Batman.
“At lab” Natasha snapped and from her steel gaze he could tell that she
understood his purpose.
“I hope he doesn’t turn up blue this time… It’d be a bit odd fighting along a
giant Smurf” he chuckled.
“We saw the video with Batman, Stark” Black Widow approached more with her
agility radiating from every move.
Tony nodded smirking.
“Of course… and I was happy thinking that someone noticed my attribution…” he
sighed. “Well, boys and girl, if you want autographs sorry to disappoint but I
don’t have a conne.”
Black Widow widened her eyes.
“You fought together at the Bridge.”
He rolled his eyes.
“It just happened to have a common interest in catching Joker! Is not that I
hang out with a Bat…He hardly speaks!”
Thor seemed interested.
“So maybe he isn’t a human? He reminds a Valkyrie the way he is soaring to the
sky and surges on his prey. Everyone in Asgard is intrigued by him.”
Tony began humming the famous tune from Wagner’s ‘Ride of Valkyries’. This
discussion was unbelievable.
“What’s your opinion, Tony?” Steve intervened.
“He is highly trained” Black Widow offered. “Possibly a former assassin
reformed; I’d like to have a spar with him, then I could instantly tell to
which organization he belonged.”
“He is more than a man” Thor disagreed. “The perfectness in his movements, his
speed, the fact that he becomes invisible, the fear he stirs, the fact he
flies…”
Tony rubbed his forehead.
“I fly too, blondie! My opinion is for you to stop interfering with Gotham and
its…fauna. S.H.I.E.L.D. is unwanted there and for a good reason.”
“This is not about S.H.I.E.L.D. or Fury, Tony. By the way, you should see the
way Fury watches the video: thrilled and heartbroken by his failure to recruit
him… Anyway this is about the Avengers and Batman would be a great man to fight
by his side” Steve answered.
Thor nodded.
“You had that privilege and it would be the greatest honor for me if I fought
battles side by side with him.”
“Avengers will be invincible with him’’ Black Widow’s eyes shone.
Tony rolled his eyes: Bruce was right to be mad at Kent for the video.
“Batman is elusive and he works alone; if you come to Gotham and try to locate
him he’ll consider you his enemies.”
“And why he doesn’t consider you as an enemy?” Romanova asked frowned.
“Because it’s my friend’s life that is at stake.”
“I can be Bruce Wayne’s bodyguard” Black Widow insisted. “I can teach him some
basic self defense.”
Tony was choked by his saliva in his effort to not laugh and coughed hearing
that. Bruce learning basic self defense skills! How he’d have loved to see the
Widow’s expression at the truth. But secrecy was Bruce’s life…
“Bruce has already bodyguards and a police detail and…” he gestured to himself
“ME, people! If someone was to teach Bruce self defense that would be me but”
he’d play dramatically “Bruce’s body suffered so much injury and malnutrition
that even basic self defense is dangerous for him” he felt self admiration for
his acting skills seeing the sad faces of his comrades.
“I’d like to meet him” Steve said. “I admire him, you know: he is frail and
fragile as I was but he won his life back without having to gain a super-strong
body with chemicals.”
“You must protect your friend, Tony” Thor leaned towards him with his baby blue
eyes solemn. “I sense that Bruce Wayne attracts too much attention not only
from humans and Heimdall agrees.”
These words coming from a being out of the human spectrum were fueling his
existing fear: Bruce had refused to describe the demon but Tony had searched
the net and the rare archives of some old libraries and now various equally
grotesque depictions burst into his mind. He locked eyes with the Norwegian god
and Thor nodded.
 
Clark entered his hotel room from the open window which was left open when he
had taken off; he was exhausted and he knew that this wasn’t normal but he
attributed it to the emotional turmoil. He should be happy after his immense
success and Perry’s praise and raise but he felt as if he had fallen from the
highest cliff. He collapsed on the small bed and clutched his face with both
hands. He knew that he should go to the Fortress for a check-up yet he didn’t
want to be far from Bruce.
So he tried to approach Batman. He wanted to talk to him to thank him because
his success was due to his greatness. He had located him: it was easy after all
since his body craved for the man and found him without effort. Yet the man
avoided him constantly and when Batman wanted to be invisible he could manage
even when your body was tuned to his. He chased him through rooftops and sky,
locating him and losing him to find him again to lose him…
But as frustrating this hunt was with Batman’s stubbornness to evade him more
frustrating and confusing was the fact that he could read anger in his Star’s
brain waves. And he couldn’t understand that and frankly he was angry too for
not getting an explanation.
He could have gone to the MCU’s rooftop because after the lighting of the Bat
signal Batman certainly would go there. He could ‘trap’ him there and confront
him but his Star’s anger and…melancholy was so corrosive that his fatigue
worsened and his soaring became labored so he decided to give up for now.
His smart phone buzzed with Lois’ tone. He took it without any mood to speak to
anyone and saw that he had several calls from her. He had forgotten his phone
in the hotel room.
“Kent.” He spat irritated.
“Ow! Ow! Easy, farm boy! Why are you so edgy? Huh?” she asked slyly. “Or now
you became a star you sniff at us…” she teased him.
“Please, Lois; I’m not in the mood…”
“I get that… You know, I should be the moody. I’m the only American reporter to
interview Putin and my interview got buried under your Batman video” her huff
of frustration passed the distance. “Our society has lost its values…”
“I’m sorry, Lois” he was indeed sorry for his friend being wronged. “It seems
that this video was a disaster…”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Clark” he could see the frowning of her brows and her
kind eyes. “Your video was great; nobody else would achieve that and Planet’s
legibility has shot up, not to mention the new ads and the shares’ launch. You
should be celebrating, pal! How did you manage?”
He rubbed the back of his neck; I locate him with the help of my hungry, horny
body…
“If you want to find an anteater find an ant; I went to the shadiest streets
where the fugitives were sure to strike and… I was lucky.”
“No, it wasn’t just luck: you risked your own life being in these places and
your risk was rewarded. Congrats, Clark!” her voice became witty and he could
imagine the smirk. “ And your article about today’s board meeting at Wayne
Enterprises was great and…Hurray! For our baby…He is much more than the weak
sweet delicious toy, huh? But… How you got so much detail? A bug under the
table?”
He couldn’t tell her that sometimes when he was close enough to Bruce his
poorly performing super hearing was enhanced catching things from Bruce’s
environment.
“Hmm…Eh…I had some connections with board members…and…and that’s it.”
“Protecting your sources, huh? And now that you’re the hottest reporter and the
favorite for this year’s Pulitzer you can hope for an interview with Gotham’s
Prince. The one who’ll manage to interview this man will make the next big hit.
Go ahead, Kent! Combine business with pleasure!”
But he wasn’t so confident; that fatigue along with his disappointment was
paralyzing.
 “I’m not so sure, Lois. I hope you’re right.”
“I am! And I’ll take over the stylistic department: you won’t meet a man that
is hand dressed by Armani with your current dreadful clothes; especially, when
the Prince is the man you desire…”
“Lois, thank you for everything. But…excuse me…but…I’m exhausted…”
“OK. I wish you to see your Prince in your sleep…” she dragged her words
teasingly.
Yet Clark was positive that the only dreams he’d see would be with tailors
goggling at Bruce’s half or completely naked body – he didn’t know how tailored
suits were made – and then touching him supposedly to measure him or try on the
expensive fabrics but with greedy feeling hands. And his Star would turn
towards him and smirk mocking his unfulfilled desires…
 
“I brought you a snack, sir, since you once again won’t honor me with eating
your dinner. I also brought your medicines.”
Alfred’s cool voice reached Selina’s ears through the communication with Bruce.
She smiled.
“Thank you, Alfred. What? Don’t tell me you’ll stay here to see me eat?”
“It’s not my fault you have shaken my trust in you concerning your eating
habits.”
Selina bit her lip to not chuckle as Bruce’s defeated sigh covered their
distance. She had crossed the grounds surrounding the Spaulding Rehabilitation
Hospital unnoticed by the few guards due to the thick darkness and her almost
stealth uniform. The yard around the Hospital’s main buildings was abundantly
illuminated due to some past intrusions but she followed the most shadowy spots
to reach the administration building’s secret emergency entrance.
She was using the little gadget on her wrist that Tony had installed with which
she could read security combinations or in this case blind the system into
believing that the inserted void card was an employee access card. She smirked:
that could be very useful in other activities which were better to stay unknown
to Bruce. On entering the building she heard the almost imperceptible sound of
Bruce eating.
She smiled; Bruce loved so much Alfred and needed so much the old man’s love
and nurturing behavior. She also enjoyed the man’s affection to her but she
never knew her parents and some of the orphanage’s people although strangers
were quite affectionate while the rest were indifferent but not cruel to the
orphans. She doubted whether she would have last if her parents after eight
happy years were killed before her eyes and then she was under Falcone’s
cruelty for so many years… So what she enjoyed from Alfred was vital for Bruce
and maybe healing.
“I don’t believe you’re still in Gotham!” she told him the night she met for
the first time the Bat.
She was still embarrassed for almost kissing him yet as they took cover in an
abandoned attic Selina buried her embarrassment to set her questions.
Bruce pulled off his cowl since the attic had no windows. He looked at her firm
and confident so different from the beaten kid she met behind the huge garbage
bin.
“You told me that you had spoken to Alfred and you two would flee from here and
that was three years ago! And I believed that you were looking for the right
moment to attempt that but you never tried… But after what I saw tonight…you
can leave whenever you want or better you can break Falcone’s and Chill’s necks
and leave. Instead you…”
Bruce pressed his lips in a tight line; Selina could see in his eyes that he
wanted that too but…
“I must return to Dolcetto; I don’t have much time…” he made to put again the
cowl but Selina held his hand.
“You mean that you’ll just go back to Falcone’s beatings and rapes?! Why?!
You’re perfectly able now to defend yourself, to free yourself and your
butler…” she felt her eyes burning.
Bruce avoided her gaze; it was obvious that he was hiding things from her,
years now…Actually their relationship was trailing off three years now; Bruce
after he told her about the plan to escape was attending rarely their dates at
the back alley of Dolcetto and the last time – that was two years ago – they
met he spat at her that they were too big now to be concealed by the garbage
bin and that she should stop coming.
But she never stopped coming to catch a glimpse of him through the windows
since he wasn’t anymore burdened with the garbage; Falcone was too satisfied
from his other duties to let his slave wasted in chores. Or she followed Chill
when he was taking Bruce to that mysterious place where a giant with covered
face grabbed her friend to vanish behind a metal door. Bruce had explained to
her from the start that these people worked for his savior, the lion-like man,
and were training him.
Bruce trusted that man and was telling her that Ra’s Al Ghul would free him and
send Falcone to jail but then three years ago one night he told her almost
crying that he would leave Gotham with Alfred and that he would call her to
come to find them. But then not only nothing happened and Bruce continued his
regular routine but also he pushed her away.
“Selina, I can’t just do that…”
Selina cupped his face and the two years they had stayed apart were evaporated;
it was like they were again behind the garbage bin and she could see in Bruce’s
eyes that he felt the same.
“Your training is awesome. I mean you had told me that they’re training you but
I didn’t imagine that..! You can easily get away, Bruce!” her voice was
desperate. “You have nothing to fear from Falcone; you’re not the eight year
old boy with the crippled hand!”
He evaded her and turned his back and Selina for a moment was afraid that he
would push her away again.
“I can’t” his voice was resolute and that enraged her: Bruce despite all the
pain and humiliation was never a coward and just a few minutes ago he saved her
from a gang.
She shook her head disbelievingly and sighed.
“Of course you can! Bruce, you must just stop thinking…”
He turned swiftly towards her and his eyes were glistening.
“I tried to run away and I failed, Selina!” he said exasperated with his jaw
set and Selina gaped.
“I…”
“Ra’s caught me” Selina covered her mouth with her palm; she always felt fear
seeing this man even from afar and she was sure that he didn’t let Bruce’s
disobedience unpunished. “But the worse is that he almost killed Tony…” Bruce’s
voice cracked uttering his old friend’s name. “He tortured him in front of my
eyes” the terror of these moments was reflected even now in his eyes. “He
injured him so severely that now his life is depended on an arc reactor.”
Selina knew the story; it drew her attention because Bruce had told her that
Tony Stark was his friend back then. But she hadn’t suspected that Tony’s
adventure was connected with Bruce.
“Ra’s warned me that if I dared again to attempt an escape he’ll kill everyone
I love: Alfred, Leslie, Tony, you…”
Selina frowned.
“Yes; he knew about you.”
Selina understood.
“That’s why you pushed me away?”
He nodded.
“I didn’t want his eyes on you; I don’t want to put you in danger.”
She smiled.
“I’m a tough girl, you know…”
He grinned.
“And what’s all this?” she gestured to his armor. “Ra’s’ plan?”
He shook his head in the negative.
“Leaving is not the solution: if I want to free myself and Gotham I must defeat
my enemies. And that will be possible only if I let them believe that I’m their
compliant slave while I will erode their kingdom from inside hidden behind this
cowl.”
Selina liked the fact that Bruce was determined to fight yet she was afraid.
“Won’t Ra’s suspect from the way you fight?”
“I don’t intent to make a show” he smiled “and I’m not using the way he taught
me to fight.”
She pressed her lips.
“OK but how you managed to make the suit?”
“I contacted Lucius Fox and he made it” and understanding what she was going to
ask “My mother had her own fortune locked in a vault in a Swiss bank – Lucius
helped me gain access to that money. So while I hit Falcone’s thugs and help
his victims I will gather the evidence for his sure conviction and the info for
neutralizing the League.”
She felt thrilled and touched because her friend had the money, the training
and the allies to at least fight and possibly win.
“Don’t rule me out of your plans…”
“I won’t” he answered touched.
“Or your life” her voice was raspy. “Those two years were awful…”
He pressed his lips and nodded and Selina saw in his eyes that he missed her
too.
“I know…” he sighed. “But for a while we must stay apart…” he smiled. “The
garbage bin is really small to cover us now. And Falcone plans to move to the
Manor and get me along.”
“That means that you’ll be with Alfred” she was happy that Bruce would be with
someone who loved him. “That’s…”
“Awful…” he snapped sad. “I don’t want Alfred watch and hear as Falcone uses
me…” his eyes told her that he still felt horrible for that time she witnessed
Chill rape him at Dolcetto’s storage; he didn’t know that this wasn’t the first
time she had seen…
She nodded and kissed his cheek.
“So” Bruce continued with his voice instantly turning definite “don’t make any
move to approach me: I’ll come to you to tell you where we can meet.”
He wore his cowl and turned to leave but Selina had one more question – well,
not only one but this was the prickliest.
“Bruce…”
He stopped and looked her.
“How you managed to contact Alfred and then Lucius and now wander the city
without being caught? And my bike?”
She saw a mischievous smile on the gloomy cowled face.
“One day I’ll show you.”
She walked on the dark corridor of the ground level while the guards were at
the opposite side of the building. The Hospital had increased security measures
but for a master thief like her was like jumping over the fence. And that
system in her mask showing her the human moves in the building was just
awesome.
“Honey, I told you how amazing your video was?” she said slyly to her
communicator.
“It wasn’t mine and you told me one hundred times already!” he answered
irritated.
Selina smirked; how she loved to tease him!
“Make that the hundredth first!” she chuckled. “Oh!” she made a double
somersault and landed lightly at the banister of the first storey. “His article
about the board meeting and your charm was leaking adoration!”
She heard Bruce’s low growl.
“Is not what you think and, please, S, stay focused.”
She was walking to the office were the patients’ files were kept; she knelt
before the door and enabled the same gadget Tony gave her.
“It’s not my fault you and your friends made it so easy…I must find something
interesting: and what’s more interesting than someone being in love with my
best friend, huh?”
“He is not in love, S…”
The door opened obediently and she walked inside closing again.
“And what is it?” she approached the whole wall drawers and rolled her eyes; so
many paperwork in the era of electronic data! But Bruce wanted to cross the
electronic files he hacked with the handwritten.
“Can you just start relaying the data?”
Bruce could see through her night vision goggles that transmitted immediately
to the cave. On the other hand her cagey friend was trying to hide something
from her; she had that feeling from the day she saw him again at Leslie’s
clinic.
“You can’t be so positive that he is not in love; I saw him while I know that
you avoid him. So you’re not in position to know what he feels and what he is
not and…”
“He is under the influence of a substance my body produces after Ra’s’ applied
it to me for years!” he snapped because he knew that otherwise she would keep
talking. “Can we return to our work now?”
She would have yelled from shock if she wasn’t so good in controlling herself
during work. She frowned: Bruce wouldn’t be so sure if he hadn’t investigated
thorough. She opened the first drawer and the first file, while her teeth were
clenched.
Lucius had installed in her goggles software which enabled her to scan what she
was seeing and simultaneously send it to the monster computer of the cave.
She was enraged about what Bruce told her yet she should keep her cool because
there were many files and Bruce wanted every patient’s file from the
Rehabilitation’s facilities to the Psychiatry Department.
“S, are you okay?” his concerned voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
“Is the transmission OK?”
“Perfect. S, isn’t that bad…” he told her mildly realizing the reason of her
sudden silence.
“I don’t like that I won’t be there tomorrow” she changed the subject to the
grand opening; she didn’t want to left Bruce alone in a public event with that
loony unleashed.
“Even if you were here I wouldn’t want you to appear publicly if something went
awry.”
“Ugh! Sometimes that secrecy gets on my nerves!”
“I don’t have only one enemy…”
 Selina bit her lips; so many people wanting to harm Bruce. It was so unfair!
Why they don’t leave him alone?
“I’ll come ASAP; I won’t let you alone.”
It took more than an hour and loads of boredom to scan all the files Bruce
wanted yet Selina didn’t complain: she would assist Bruce in every way she
could and what she did tonight was nothing, especially if you consider that
Bruce was feeding the security cameras with the peaceful images of the
building.
“S, there’s a file missing both from the electronic files and the scanned; are
you sure there’s nothing else?”
“No, there’s nothing else.”
“OK. Now get out of there.”
“You don’t need anything else?”
“No, thank you, dear.”
“You’re welcome; see you tomorrow: we have a lot to speak about” she said
warningly.
Now that he knew that Selina was out of the building and safe he could submerge
to the enticing data. He asked Selina about one more file because the files he
got from Selina and his hacking was one short from the official census the
Hospital had submitted to the federal department of health. And that anomaly
referred exactly to the crucial time before, throughout Jack Napier’s admission
and after his release.
Anyway he had to begin with what he already had in his disposal. His software
had already converted the .jpg files from the scan to .pdf files which he began
perusing at speed. He found the files of Joker’s goons who have come in Gotham
with the clown: they were inpatients of the Psychiatry Department.
In another screen the crossing of the serial numbers on the bills he found in
the warehouse 28 just finished. He had ordered the comparison of the serial
numbers with the serial numbers of every bank in Metropolis. The result flashed
in the screen: “Metropolis Mercantile Bank”, date of withdrawal: a week before
the attack at Wayne Tower.
And…he pressed some buttons hacking the central processor of the bank to take
the number of the account…there: the account was irrelevant to Luthor yet the
amount that was withdrawn from that account had been transferred from an off
shore company: the same that was used for the buying of Tate’s facilities which
belonged to Luthor. The fact that Gotham’s thugs prefer cash trapped the
Metropolis’ tycoon: he didn’t count that Joker would steal his weapon and use
it and although he thought that his tracks were covered with the off shore
company he ignored that Bruce had traced his hidden activities.
But now he had to search his other opponent.
He opened the file of Jack Napier from the Rehabilitation Center and his eyes
sucked greedily the information. The photo wasn’t of great quality yet the
differences with the Napier he met was evident – in one of the five screens
connected with the processor he had the pictures of the Napier he met and just
loaded the photo from the hospital’s archive. The phase pattern recognition
software once again affirmed that they weren’t the same. But this wasn’t
enough: anyone could say that the software wasn’t very reliable and that in
Hollywood cosmetic surgery was a daily phenomenon especially for someone who
came out of a clinic: not that Cheshire scars could be regard as cosmetic
surgery...
Suddenly as he was reading Napier’s medical history his eyes widened
remembering something and while keeping Napier’s file open he gave in the
system with the stored feed from the Manor’s security cameras the date of
Napier’s visit. His grin was wide and his eyes sparkled: that’s it! He
immediately hacked the archives of the cameras from the LAX airport the day he
calculated that Napier left LA for Boston.
“Yes!” he exclaimed in an unusual way for him.
Tony stepping out of the lift that exact moment raised an eyebrow for that
reaction which was so odd for Bruce.
“Don’t tell me Gotham Knights scored and you celebrate…”
Bruce turned and his face was radiating as Tony had never seen it again. The
older man walked towards the bench.
“We are both right, Tony: Joker is and is not Jack Napier!”
 
***** Chapter 40 *****
Tony frowned and touched his palm on Bruce’s forehead looking for a fever.
Bruce yanked his head snorting.
“I don’t run a fever.”
“I see that…” his gaze fell on the screens with their various data and stopped
at the record of Jack Napier from the hospital.
“Sit” Bruce said and Tony curious obliged taking the chair next to him.
Bruce minimized the window with Napier’s record and played the video from the
LAX airport the time Napier passed the security check. Tony narrowed his eyes.
“What do you see?” Bruce asked.
Tony crossed his hands and rolled his eyes.
“If my seductive eyes don’t lie to me – and they never do, trust me” he said
with his suave smug voice winking. “I see the late Jack passing the security
check on LAX” he tilted his head on the side “a couple of years ago.”
“Yes, five years ago to be precise. How you know?” he frowned because the data
wasn’t visible to Tony.
Tony smirked and scratched his head with a mischievous expression.
“I spent some nights with Suzy” he pointed the employee at the security desk.
“She asked to be transferred five years ago…” he sighed. “She couldn’t handle
our…” he purged his lips “breakup?”
Bruce rolled his eyes and grunted.
“What?” Tony shrugged lifting his eyebrows.
“As you can see the system rings when Napier passes.”
Tony nodded.
“It’s not a metallic object: he gives an X-Ray to the officer who approaches.”
Bruce smiled.
“Exactly” he paused the video and reopened the medical file. “Jack had a
titanium blade after a comminuted fracture in his upper leg.”
“Okay…And how this helps your case?”
The younger man opened a new video that showed the threshold of the Manor and
then Alfred going to open the door for Napier.
“The Manor’s entrance has a metal scanner” Bruce said looking at the screen.
“And…it doesn’t ring…” Tony frowned understanding his friend’s reasoning; yet
he shook his head. “So you say that the Napier who came to the Manor, the
Napier you met, the one you believe is Joker isn’t the real Napier? And that
explains why the DNA from the dead Napier wasn’t the same with Joker’s.” Bruce
nodded. “Nice but let me play the Devil’s advocate and assume that the man who
visited the Manor was Napier and not Joker: five years passed from the LAX
video; maybe Jack removed the titanium blade from his leg…maybe during his stay
at the Hospital.”
Bruce shook his head in denial and played another video from Boston’s airport
this time dating after Napier’s release from the hospital.
“If Jack had made such an operation during his stay it would have been included
in his medical report which isn’t. And you could say that the removal might
have happened after his release. However…” Napier in the video passed the
security check without the alarm ringing.
Tony’s eyes bulged and Bruce magnified the part of the security camera’s feed
with Napier’s face, enhanced the quality to near perfect with one of Lucius’
programs for photos and fed it to the face pattern recognition system along
with the screenshot from the Napier who left LAX airport.
NO MATCH
 “The Jack Napier that left LA wasn’t the same that came back” the younger man
commented. “Joker kidnapped Napier just after his release. The fact he hadn’t
any close relatives, wasn’t famous and he belonged to a world of makeup and
cosmetic surgeries just made things easier for the impostor.”
Tony whistled impressed.
“Your detective skills are impressive.”
Bruce turned to the screen.
“I just followed a hunch.” He saved and closed the videos to open his own
search program giving the name of the hospital. “Now we must find out who is
this man…”
Tony’s eyes stayed on the real Napier’s face on one of the screens; he pressed
his lips.
“Poor Jackie was held prisoner by this man all these years and nobody noticed…”
he mumbled sad and shook his head. “Only to be murdered by that monster in the
end… I knew the man and never suspected… He was a good bloke, you know…” he
laughed “it’s a pity that most people know the fake, insulting Napier and not
the real one…”
The younger man stopped perusing the results and looked at Tony biting his lip.
“I’m sorry, Tony… When Joker gets arrested everyone will know the truth and
your friend’s memory will be righted. Joker is cruel and he acts beyond any
reasoning; it’s obvious that he has no empathy…” he blinked. “I found eight
people in Joker’s former hideout: they were killed in a gory way; he used the
weapon that destroyed the Tower’s impenetrable windows on them.”
Tony gaped.
“Who were they?”
Bruce shook his head.
“Thugs… Luthor hired them to guard his weapon; Joker found the weapon, captured
them and after his escape killed them.”
“How do you know that it was Luthor? I mean, we suspect him but I know that you
wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t sure.”
Bruce pointed to the last of the five screens.
“In their wallets I found bills which had serial numbers from Metropolis’ bank
network – Metropolis Mercantile Bank to be precise. The money was withdrawn a
week before the attack on the Tower from a fake account.”
“Then how you know that it was Luthor?”
He pointed a number on the screen.
“A large amount of money was transferred to the fake account the day before the
withdrawal from an off shore account.”
Tony nodded.
“C’me on, make my day…”
“It’s the same off shore account through which the transactions for the Tate’s
facilities were made; which off shore account belongs…”
“To a ghost conglomerate that belongs to Luthor!” he jolted. “Let’s kick his
ass!”
Yet Bruce rested his hand on his friend’s upper arm and Tony frowned.
“It’s not enough; he has slipped in the past: a hasty move would make him and
his allies retreat. We have to wait, Tony…”
But Tony wasn’t convinced; he lolled his head backwards.
“I hate waiting! And wait for what? To attack you again achieving his purpose
this time?”
“He didn’t attack me yet. And if we show that we know his plans and move
against him his allies will hide and begin a new plot for which we won’t have
any idea.” He rubbed his forehead. “So we must wait their move; wait for them
to reveal themselves. It won’t be for long: the pawns began moving…”
Tony resumed his seat.
“Meaning?”
“Someone was watching Batman tonight: a woman dressed as ninja.”
Tony locked eyes with his friend.
“League of Shadows?”
Bruce shrugged.
“It could be… Yet the ninja techniques aren’t used only from the League and
maybe her target was just Batman, not Bruce Wayne. That’s the reason I’m asking
you to be patient…”
The older man nodded.
“What are you looking for now?” Tony leaned towards the screen.
“The official census the Hospital submitted to the Federal Health Department
for the years from Jack’s admission through his release refers to 132 patients
and the files I hacked from the electronic database of the Hospital and those
Selina scanned is one short. So…”
“The impostor erased his traces” Tony completed. “So the file that is missing
is of the guy who took Jack’s place.”
Bruce scrolled down the results of the search but most of them concerned
research programs, pilot implementation of new treatments, awards to various
professionals of the Hospital’s staff. He sighed and continued frustrated and
then an article from a local blog caught his attention. It was a general critic
about how defective impatient treating in mental hospitals was that used as an
argument the death of a chronic impatient in the Spaulding Rehabilitation
Hospital when he dived to the Massachusetts’ Bay in his effort to escape. Bruce
saved the article.
“Anything useful?” Tony inquired.
Bruce shook his head forming his lips in a tight line.
“Unless…” his fingers began flying on the keyboard.
“What?”
“Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital belongs to a non-profit organization called
‘Partners Healthcare’ so maybe the files from the Hospital are submitted also
to the organization’s central archives…”
“That’s a common tactic in such organizations.”
The screen became light blue with the PHS logo covering its center. Bruce
continued playing piano with the keyboard and the screen got filled with years
each year linking to the different hospitals the organization included. Bruce
limited to the Spaulding Hospital and the target years. He compared the files
he already had with those in the Partners’ archive: one file sticking out.
Tony leaned interested to the opened file.
“Is that his real name? Joe Kerr?”
But Bruce didn’t look satisfied; he had leaned on the back of his chair, he had
crossed his hands on the chest and rubbed his chin, staring at the file.
“It’s too easy…” he frowned.
Tony turned his gaze at him, rolling his eyes.
“Easy? Are you nuts, buddy? How many people would have followed your thought
into reaching here? You underestimate your mind…”
But Bruce shook his head staring at Joker’s face in the other screen.
“I don’t underestimate HIM, Tony. He is very intelligent. He must have thought
that anyone figuring out that Jack Napier didn’t return from the hospital would
search the files. And that the missing file would immediately catch his
attention…” he zoomed on the photo on the file. “He doesn’t bear a resemblance
to Napier.”
“Plastic surgery?” Tony offered.
Bruce pressed his lips and sent the photo to the face pattern recognition
program giving the order to be compared with Joker’s. Again: NO MATCH.
“The program isn’t 100% accurate…” Tony lifted his shoulder.
However Bruce wasn’t persuaded and began reading the file; the man was
impatient to the Rehabilitation Facility treated for alcoholism. He was around
Napier’s age and was from New York. The rest was details about the treatment
process and his development and Bruce read carefully but his disappointment was
evident. Tony blinked to his wristwatch and decided that it was time for Bruce
to sleep. He was ready to couch the younger man to the bed when Bruce smirked.
“That’s it…” he mumbled.
“What?”
Bruce turned to him and chuckled.
“The man died from cirrhosis in the Spaulding Hospital one year after Napier
was released! The man left the Hospital a month before Napier but a couple of
months later was re-submitted only this time was given the diagnosis of
cirrhosis and died soon after…” Bruce shook his head and pointed his index
finger to Joker’s photo. “He stole Kerr’s file when he learnt about his release
to lead the traces to him if someone ever suspected the truth. But… since he
was too occupied in showbiz impersonating the real Napier he didn’t keep
watching and didn’t know that Kerr relapsed and was re-submitted to finally die
in the Hospital.”
Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“So we’re back to zero: Joker can be anyone not necessarily from the patients
of the Hospital.”
“I know he is one of the patients… The goons he brought with him in Gotham were
patients of the Psychiatric Department; Joker knew them beforehand and if we
take into account that as a Hollywood Star he never visited, as charity, the
Hospital he met them before he stole Jack’s identity.”
Bruce returned to the files of the Psychiatry Ward and Tony patted his friend’s
shoulder.
“Enough for tonight, little guy; we need sleep, tomorrow is the grand opening.”
“You can go, Tony…” Bruce said without taking his eyes from the screen.
Tony rolled his eyes and sighed.
“You need rest too: you had a testing board meeting, then you roamed the Docks
spying, then you patrolled and chased a lady ninja. I think it’s more than
enough” he nodded with emphasis and cupped Bruce’s hand that held the mouse.
Bruce looked at him and his eyes were indeed red yet he was resolute.
“I’m fine; I don’t feel tired. And I must find out now that I’m on a trail – I
can’t leave it half done. The DNA and the cards I picked from the scene of the
crime don’t show anything.”
Tony rolled his eyes.
“You’re obsessed with that man, Bruce.”
The younger averted his eyes and purged his lips.
“I just don’t want him running free and killing innocent people. I owe it to
his victims, to Brian and his family…” his voice lowered.
Tony swallowed hard.
“I understand but if you exhaust yourself you won’t achieve anything. And
catching him counts; not finding his background. That can wait.”
Bruce shook his head.
“I want to know whom I face: knowledge is power and he learnt everything about
me, torturing Falcone.”
Tony knew that Bruce had a point there.
“Yet he doesn’t know you’re Batman” Bruce looked him unconvinced “OK, but your
mind is tired now so getting some rest will help you.”
Yet the younger man turned again to the screen and Tony raised his eyes to the
ceiling as if asking help.
“All of Joker’s goons were chronic psychiatric patients…” Bruce commented after
reading their files. “And knowing Joker, if he was indeed an inpatient of the
Hospital, he’ll be a chronic patient too…”
He began opening the files of the psychiatric patients. One photo stroke him;
he turned to Tony who were watching half irritated for Bruce’s refusal to rest
and half interested.
“Do you think that he resembles Napier?”
Tony pressed his lips.
“He definitely bears some resemblance…” he had blond short hair and green eyes
that looked away from the camera in a stupid way “but he looks too young, maybe
twenty years old…” he narrowed his eyes. “But the photo is too old almost
fifteen years I’d say.”
“Hmm… That could explain why he doesn’t have the scars… Let’s see…” he compared
the photo with Joker’s in the special program.
MATCH
“Wow!” Tony exclaimed.
Bruce nodded and focused on the file.
“His name is Jack, only Jack without a surname and he has various obscure
diagnoses from Mania to Narcissistic Personality Disorder to Schizophrenia but
no history except than he was referred to the Hospital from the Police…” he
sighed. “That explains the old photo since it was taken then and after that he
never tolerated to be photographed again: the doctors didn’t insist on the
photo issue because each time it caused major crises to the patient and
aggressive behavior towards the staff and himself; they didn’t want to irritate
his condition.”
“He was ten years in that Hospital?!” Tony gasped and Bruce nodded.
“And he knew the Hospital so well that he many times sneaked out of the
Psychiatry Ward and the guards found him in various locations; always he
managed to injure the guards. Here says that he doesn’t have an inhibition in
hurting others or himself and he caused many injuries to himself, some of them
on his face…” Bruce bit his lip and shook his head “but it doesn’t say the
exact nature of the injuries… Here it stresses that his aggressiveness
gradually increased with the years… Wait!”
Tony had already seen it and pointed there.
“He is…dead?!” he exclaimed exasperated.
“And the time of death is a couple of days before Jack Napier’s release; he
tried to escape and…”
Suddenly he thought something and opened the article he saved from the blog.
“Here we go… He is the patient who dived in the Massachusetts Bay to escape and
his body was never found so he was declared dead.”
“Like you…” Tony tilted his head.
Bruce nodded smirking.
“And as we know being declared dead doesn’t mean you’re dead…”
He had an idea and searched the police’s files in Massachusetts around this
time.
“Some people in Boston went missing at that time but no bodies were found;
Police had created a whole investigation team but the wave of disappearances
stopped and the case closed.”
He compared the snapshot from the Boston airport of the newly released Napier
leaving for LA with the photo from the file. They matched.
“You see the reason why the disappearances stopped… And his face has something
odd around his lips that is concealed someway” he said to the awestruck Tony
and he leaned on the back of his chair tired. “He kidnapped the real Napier as
soon as he was released and kept him prisoner.”
Tony looked sad.
“Why he didn’t kill him then?”
“Maybe he wanted information… maybe he found it funnier…” he shrugged.
“There were some rumors that Napier after his return was too ambitious and
Rothmeyer’s act to take him under his wing caused murmurs” Bruce looked him
puzzled and took the mug with tea only to grimace in disgust since the liquid
was cold. “Rothmeyer is the most powerful in Hollywood” Tony explained “and
from today the most miserable since a video showing him fucking an underage
girl in an orgy surges the media…You think what I think?”
The younger man nodded.
“Joker didn’t need to blackmail him anymore after Napier’s murder so he gave
the video to the media to laugh with the aftermath” Tony elaborated. “Do you
think that Dawes knows the truth?”
Bruce pressed his lips.
“Her behavior looks awkward to me but…I’m not sure. She was a student at Boston
at the time Joker replaced Napier but still… She could have believed that was
indeed hired by Jack Napier…” he shook his head. “Of course I was never
convinced that she fooled the Police just to attack Joker…” he rubbed his chin.
“We’ll have to watch her: I invited her to the grand opening and the reception
afterwards.”
The sound of the lift surprised them.
“What exactly are you doing?” Alfred’s stern voice shook the cave. “Do you know
what time is it?”
“I thought you were asleep, Alfred…” Bruce said looking awestruck the man’s
impeccable attire.
“I was, Master Bruce but then I woke up and came to your bedroom to see if you
needed something and…I found nothing. And then I went to Master Anthony’s
bedroom and he wasn’t there too which is perfectly normal” Tony nodded grinning
smugly. “As I suspected you’re here like a real bat; Master Anthony, I expected
more responsibility from you!”
Tony gestured puzzled to himself.
“From me?! We’re talking about the same Tony?”
Bruce pointed to the various screens.
“We found things about Joker, Alfred.”
Alfred sniffed at the screens and scolded at him.
“Congratulations, sir! But it’s 5 o’clock in the morning” Tony gasped. “And you
two have an opening to attend. So save your data and lead the way to your
rooms. My Goodness! It’s like I have two toddlers to watch after!”
Tony yawned.
“Five in the morning and I spent the best hours of the night with Joker’s
pan…Ugh! I must be transforming into a masochist…At least the opening is at
late afternoon. But, Al, you’re unfair; I tried to talk him to go into bed
but…”
“He talked you into stay as well…” Alfred raised his eyebrows accusingly and
Tony lowered his eyes casting a sideways glance to Bruce.
“Why am I always scolded for your deeds?”
Bruce chuckled but under the austere stare of Alfred saved his data.
“Up, up, little guy!” Tony said sternly looking at Alfred for approval.
“You first, big guy” Bruce stood.
Alfred stayed last and cast a glance at Joker’s face on the screen, a shiver
running his spine on the thought that this man had targeted Bruce. He found
again his cool and escorted his young masters to their bedrooms.
 
Talia was standing before the slightly open arch shaped window of her bedroom
watching Gotham’s outline that even if she didn’t want to admit it emanated
charm. Charm almost as irresistible as her protector’s.
She sipped the strange tea, an ancient recipe for strengthening your body and
mind that Ubu found during his travels. She wore only her lilac transparent
robe and the light night breeze caressed pleasantly her body. The black ninja
uniform was discarded unceremoniously on the floor: her father would have
berated her if had seen that. But she didn’t care.
Right now she felt doubt about her skills for the first time ever. And she
didn’t like it yet she couldn’t erase it from her mind either. For the first
time in her life that was always led by iron will, steel reasoning and careful
estimation, she was impelled by whim. She roamed Gotham to catch a glimpse of
her untamed property; she was sure that she’d locate him; she was the mistress
of the shadows after all and the shadows would reveal to her a being hidden in
them.
She saw him and he was better from the video: not very tall, not very broad but
lethal with his confidence radiating from his imposing posture as he supervised
his beloved city. Even the way his black cape floated behind him gave him the
air of a king, a demon or a dark angel. He was beautiful although the armor and
the cowl hid his real features; it was all this confidence, all this boiling
strength waiting to be unleashed, all this powerful will. A child that has been
through the things he did shouldn’t be like this; and that was the reason her
father never suspected that his slave was the vigilante who fought Falcone.
And suddenly the creature dived to the void and she heard with a shudder the
opening of his wings and was ready to run to see him surging on his prey. But
then she felt his eyes on her back; he had sensed her and found her although
she had taken every measure to be stealth. Yet he was a master of everything
her father and his other teachers taught him; his despair and his desire to be
free urged him to learn everything and then combine all these to make them more
lethal. He knew that his opponent, Ra’s, was great and if he was defeated this
time he wouldn’t be permitted to keep his mind uncontrolled.
She ran because she didn’t want to fight him so early since that would alert
him to the presence and the plans of the League. For now she was just a ninja
clad stalker. She knew she was a master of her kind but he never lost her and
he was close to reach and confront her when a scream calling for help stopped
him and the need to save a life won the need to protect himself by finding who
was his stalker.
And now staring at the city of crime and fear she was pissed with herself not
because she was detected and almost caught by him but because she let a desire
carry her away, endangering the whole plan. She was changing to her father
channeling his disastrous passion for that boy?
Maybe she should just order her assassins to murder Bruce Wayne and get over
with this issue, uprooting any tendency for being inferior.
But no… Killing Bruce would be result of fear, of insecurity, of doubt for
herself. And she didn’t doubt herself neither was afraid of anything. Ordering
the death of Bruce would be an act of whim; a grave mistake leading to the loss
of something valuable, something that belonged to her. She won’t let inferior
emotions lead her. Exactly as her father didn’t when she demanded from him to
kill Bruce just because she was jealous. Yet Ra’s acted like a true leader and
didn’t let her ruin his dream project.
The fact that she went out and followed him was a smart move and the urge to do
it was her wise instinct. She had to see with her own eyes her prize, to
estimate his true value without the influence of the past or others’ opinion.
And even if Batman sensed and followed her didn’t mean that he imagined that
the League was already back in the game and targeted him. But even in the case
his brilliant mind figured out it was too late to thwart it…
She smiled smugly; that outing was worthy if only for seeing Superman following
around Bruce like a horny mutt. The drug’s effects were irresistible to the
alien; he was addicted to the beautiful human. However Batman seemed to
purposely avoid him and it was too satisfying watching a ‘mere’ human evade a
being with super powers so effortlessly, so graciously.
In the end, her doubting evaporated and only a deep sweet feeling of
satisfaction filled her. The plan was developing perfectly and soon she would
get her property back: Crane had better to be careful with Bruce. Soon she’d
have a unique, priceless raw diamond, a black diamond in her hands and Crane
would have to refine and shape it, to tame it without destroying it.
Someone knocked her door; nobody else dared to come to her bedroom except for
Bane.
“Come in” she called.
Bane bowed.
“Talk!” Bane always wanted to poison her confidence and his eyes now were bad
omens.
Bane didn’t like failure even when it wasn’t his. He didn’t like disappointing
his beautiful mistress.
“Luthor’s hacker failed to access the clinic’s files. He said that the security
was new to him.”
Stark shielded his friend’s tests’ results. She gritted her teeth: that Stark!
Oh! How she craved to see him after she got Bruce… when Ironman would realize
that he failed again in the most important task he ever took over…
“There’s always the good old fashioned way…” she said indifferently and lifted
an eyebrow. “Well?”
Bane’s eyes lowered for an instance and then looked at his mistress’ black
eyes.
“Our people infiltrated the clinic but there weren’t any files of Bruce Wayne.”
She nodded.
“Leslie Thompkins; the woman is very smart and of course didn’t let her
favorite boy’s files exposed. I bet she has them in her house…”
Bane made a hesitant step towards her.
“Do you want to break in her house or force her to give the results?”
Talia shook her head amused and cupped Bane’s jaw under the silken scarf.
“My loyal warrior! So eager to serve me that he doesn’t think about the
consequences. If someone break into the house of Dr. Thompkins or attack her
then Bruce will immediately be alerted that something is going on.”
She released Bane’s jaw much to his disappointment and walked slowly barefoot
to the window, her naked buttocks under the transparent robe enticing and
torturing her loyal warrior.
“No, there’s no need for us to chase those results” her eyes travelled to the
slowly awakening city that was illuminated by the first pale blue colors of the
sky. “They will beg us to take those results when Bruce will be ours…”
 
Rachel was stretched on the armchair in her small living room; she had bought a
small department in Midtown after her boss’ death. On TV, Gotham’s midday
gossip shows were discussing the events at yesterday’s board meeting of Wayne
Enterprises. Rachel watched snorting: that kind of shows usually didn’t care
about business but when Bruce was concerned everything got new interest.
She sipped from her coffee; it was odd how this poor victim draw so much
attention. Her gaze fell on the stuffed Eeyore; she had shoved it in the drawer
of the dresser but she could still see it… she was absorbed just for a minute
and then averted her eyes.
Things got interesting today. She looked at the open legal paper on the waist
table. It was a desk appearance ticket with the seal of District Attorney
Harvey Dent with a date in which she should appear to Gotham’s Courthouse for
what happened at MCU. 
She chuckled; so the soft boy decided to show character.
The bozos on screen had forgotten the board meeting and now they were
discussing the more interesting for them issue of what clothes the Prince and
the King of Malibu might wear at the grand opening which was settled for the
late afternoon and would be concluded with a reception at the events’ hall of
Haven’s Administration Center. Rachel was sure that this attire issue was
rather burning for Jackie too.
She stretched her hands above her head and yawned. Will see…will see…she was
invited too: very kind of Bruce but he was Bruce after all…
Her doorbell rang again. What now? She lowered the volume and walked to the
door; she wore loose pants and a plain T-shirt so she was decent enough.
She saw Harvey Dent on her doorstep obviously uncomfortable; he had his hand
behind his back apparently holding something.
“Good morning, Harvey” she greeted nonchalant.
“Good morning, Rachel; can you spare me some time?”
His uneasiness was so funny! She gestured inside.
“Do you want some coffee?” she asked.
Harvey didn’t answer instead gave her a very beautiful bouquet.
“Thank you but you’re spoiling me, mister DA…” she smiled. “Spill it… I see
that you want to say something.”
Harvey scratched his head.
“It’s for the Desk Appearance Ticket… I…It’s my job…Of course it was the right
thing though it was rough for you too...”
She laughed amused.
“You give bouquets to every criminal you press charges against?”
“You’re not a criminal…” he tilted his head. “And no, I don’t give flowers to
everyone I charge… It’s just a token of…”
Rachel shook her head smiling.
“A DA doesn’t apologize for doing his job…” she shook her index finger
teasingly.
Harvey rubbed his forehead.
“I’m not apologizing. I just want to tell you that nothing has changed between
us and that I understand how you felt and why you acted like this and I hope
that you’re not angry at me…”
“For doing your job?” she shook her head “Not at all… You’re right and if you
had buried the case it’d have been bad for your image and that city you so much
love.”
Harvey didn’t expect it so easy; he brought his hands on his waist and tilted
his head.
“You can lose your license…”
Rachel shrugged.
“Poor Jack has left me enough money to live the rest of my life without having
to work” she pouted her lips. “And to tell you the truth being a woman of the
law wasn’t my dream.”
Harvey chuckled and locked his eyes with hers.
“And what’s your dream?”
She winked.
“At the moment…” she threw the flowers on the table and approached graciously
Harvey with a seductive, sly expression in her eyes. “Seducing a firm and
hardcore man of the law…”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and Harvey smiled and found her lips
gently.
“I have the Haven’s opening…” he whispered in her ear with regret.
Rachel closed her eyes, stretched and kissed him passionately.
“Me too… But it’s still too early…And that DAT is a turn on…” she chuckled.
She cupped his strong jaw line and he abandoned every hesitation and grabbed
one handed her waist gluing her on his broad chest. His lips sucked hers and
her hands pushed his jacket off his shoulders, caressing his strong built
hands.
He loosened with trembling hands his tie, pulled it off and tossed the tie away
giving Rachel the trigger to tear his shirt to reveal his beautifully toned
chest. Harvey embraced her with both hands and lay her on the sofa heaving her
T-shirt over her head and her stretched hands; his glistening eyes enjoying the
view of her round shaped breasts.
“Do you see something you like, lawman?” she asked coyly and Harvey submerged
his head to her chest, lowering her loose pants that to his surprise didn’t
reveal any underwear.
Rachel giggled happy as the DA nibbled gently her nipples her eyes shining with
wicked satisfaction and something else even she couldn’t interpret.   
“You will bring me flowers in jail?” she asked laughing.
“Every day…Though yours is only a misdemeanor…”
 
The evening was warm and a breeze was bringing the smell of sea to the inner
Narrows; the area was actually an island connected with the rest of the city
with bridges or narrow strips of land. Maybe that was one of the reasons the
area quickly became isolated from the social and economic life of the rest of
Gotham and was left to the moods of the various outlaws. But this would be over
from now…
Bruce stood on the small wooden rainbow bridge over the man-made small lake and
watched from afar the festivities before the ribbon cutting ceremony. He had
taken his jacket off and let it on the bridge’s railing. Pepper and Alfred
organized a fest in the “Martha Wayne Park” where the Administration Center was
located. The park was created in an area which before was filled with abandoned
old industrial facilities a source of pollution and center of many shady
activities since the public lighting was destroyed.
Now it was one of the most beautiful parks of the city, maybe the most
beautiful, with flowers of every kind and color arranged in various shapes:
hearts, spirals, stars and half moons. Benches were scattered in the paved
paths and in the patios wooden tables and benches were placed for picnics
beside small, elegant fountains. Old style street lamps were all over the place
adding to the lighting of the place which had smaller multicolored lamps
between the flower beds and on the bases of the trees.
In the center of the park surrounded by white roses, Martha Wayne’s favorite
flowers, was a round shaped patio in the middle of which stood a small monument
from white marble: a woman with shoulder- length hair was kneeled on the stones
wrapping in her embrace small children.
Bruce felt tears burning his eyes and hasted to wipe them. Sometimes he could
still feel his mother’s warm hug that night when Falcone pretended that
released him and he thought that he was finally safe in his mom’s chest… She
had hidden him in her hug and he was so happy, so relieved, so sure that nobody
could take him from there and hurt him…until…Martha shoved him behind her to
save him from the bullet making her body a shield…
He rubbed his forehead and let the jubilant giggles, the playful shouts and the
loud music the band was playing bring him to the present. The children of
Gotham’s orphanage which was integrated in the Haven and renovated, along with
kids from the Narrows, of Wayne Enterprises’ employees and the rest of the city
had conquered the entire park, playing and dancing and savoring the abundance
of food and desserts on the park’s tables. Multicolored balloons were flying
around together with some butterflies and pigeons that enjoyed the flowers and
the sun.
Bruce thought that in front of him was the hope for Narrows, the hope for
Gotham and he was exhilarated from such happiness around him yet something
inside him sent wetness to his eyes. And then his eyes fell on a commotion
where a red and gold figure was “battling” with the kids who were laughing
while Alfred and Pepper were wandering around the kid-river. And then Tony
launched and began making maneuvers and dives in the sky causing the awed
exclamations of the kids.
Bruce laughed.
“You should go there too” a smooth female voice said and a warm hand patted his
upper arm.
He turned to see Leslie. She wore a light blue skirt suit but the glasses and
the hastily made bun didn’t let you forget the familiar image of the Narrows’
fierce doctor. Bruce turned his gaze in the spot where Tony had activated his
armor, this time only for the sake of his young admirers.
“Tony is brilliant with kids!” he said grinning broad. “And Alfred…”
Leslie smiled too.
“From the night your family was killed he was a regular to the orphanage; this
is the second generation of kids Alfred knows” Bruce nodded. “Then I thought
that apart from his affection to these kids was his need to fill somehow the
blank your death had left… Now I know that he was giving love to these orphans
from his heart but also praying that someone would do the same for his” she
smiled “young master”.
Bruce pressed his lips. Poor Alfred…All these years knowing the truth and
bearing the burden alone…
“Bruce, go there; share the joy…” Leslie’s voice was so caring but he couldn’t.
“I…I can’t, Leslie…I’m sorry. Besides all these became true thanks to Tony…I
just can’t…”
Leslie understood: Bruce couldn’t share the joy and going there, he would feel
a human statue around living, happy children; he was afraid that he would ruin
the fun. She rubbed his back soothingly.
“Things will get better, Bruce…” she whispered yet something was shadowing her
mood. “The administrators of our computer system said that last night someone
tried to breach our electronic archives…”
Bruce frowned.
“I suppose that they wanted your tests’ results since we don’t have any other
‘celebrity’ patient” she looked him in the eyes “of course they didn’t know how
hard the security you installed was so they failed; besides what they looking
for wasn’t there. Any chance you know who did it?”
The young man knew yet he didn’t want to panic Leslie.
“Don’t say anything to the others; they’ll be worried without reason.”
Leslie shook her head.
“Without? Bruce, I don’t like keeping so many secrets concerning your well
being. Why are you doing this, dear? What’s going on?”
“Things are under control, Leslie, don’t worry. We just can’t speak here” his
gaze roamed the park and saw Clark speaking with people far from them.
Suddenly Bruce got tense and his eyes narrowed; he was constantly alert for a
possible attack from Joker even though Jim had many officers guarding the fest
and others undercover among the parents and the reporters covering the event;
Tony was also in constant contact with Jarvis that had the entire gargantuan
premises of the Haven under surveillance; furthermore Selina had mingled with
the people. Still someone was approaching from the bushes.
Leslie sensed Bruce’s tension and frowned but smiled relieved when she saw
Billy approaching caring something in his hands. Bruce relaxed too.
Billy was the mentally handicapped youth Batman found in an alley and took to
Leslie; Billy hadn’t met Bruce Wayne so he expected from him to address Leslie.
“He-hello, Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce was surprised but smiled.
“Hello…”
“Bi…Billy…m-my name is Billy.”
Bruce gave him his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Billy.”
Billy gave him the box he carried.
“I…it’s for…you” Leslie smiled touched and Bruce gaped. “I…I mmmade it…ffor
yyou.”
Bruce took the box reverently and his hands shook a bit as he opened it. In the
box lay a small black and white painting framed beautifully with carved wood.
He took the painting in his hands touched: he must have been six or seven in
this; he was standing and his parents held him squatting at his sides. Each one
was kissing one of his cheeks.
“How?” he asked his voice raspy.
Billy scratched his hair.
“I…I tttold Ms. Helen I w-wanted to…to p-paint yyour fffamily and she…she show
me-me…p-photos on co-computer. I-I liked this…this. Johny ma-made the ffframe.”
Bruce smiled.
“I didn’t remember this picture…”
“Ms. H-Helen s-said that razzies s-shot it…”
“It’s very beautiful, Billy: you have talent. Thank you! It’s the most terrific
present I ever had!”
“I-I know that…that yyou and Tttony care about us and both oof yyou ma-made tha
Haven fffor us.”
Billy blushed and Bruce pointed the shadow over the family that oddly reminded
a bat.
“What’s this?”
“He-he protects everybody; he-he would ha-have saved you then li-like he-he
saved mme.”
Bruce looked at the painting and caressed it.
 “Billy, you’ll be a great graphic artist for Wayne Enterprises after you
finish your training” he said to him and Leslie nodded.
“And Dagget will swallow his poisonous tongue!” the doctor spat.
“Mi-mister Wayne, want to me-meet my-my friends?”
“I…” he turned his eyes to Leslie and she smiled. “Of course Billy. Call me
Bruce, please.”
Billy grabbed Bruce’s hand and dragged him along towards a party of kids and
older youths. Leslie smiled.
“Things WILL get better, son…” she whispered and turned her eyes to the
monument moved.
Clark having managed to escape from his colleagues who flooded him with
questions about his latest hit articles was interviewing various people,
residents of the Narrows, beneficiaries of the Haven and Gothamites from other
parts of the city. Suddenly he heard the sound of someone laughing and he was
paralyzed; he knew that beautiful sound. His memory helped him to remember
before seeing: he had heard it in his dream with child Bruce; it was almost the
same sound only a bit deeper.
He turned and his vision instantly zoomed to the spot where the sound came
from; Bruce without his jacket and with his sleeves rolled up was chatting in
the middle of a couple of kids and youths listening to them eagerly and
laughing carefree. His tie was loosened and the undone buttons of his collar
revealed a neck so smooth and gracious that he knew that if he didn’t restrain
himself his mouth would be glued there as iron to magnet.
It was such a beautiful image; the sun on his setting was painting golden
Bruce’s brunette locks and made his face glow or was it his smile which
revealed his perfect white teeth? Clark was sure that Falcone when realized the
boy’s beauty took special care for his teeth. He shook his head outraged with
his thoughts.
He saw a young woman approaching Bruce. She was tall and lean with a sensual
walking that her business suit of jacket and pants couldn’t hide. Her hair was
groomed into a beautiful bun. Selina Kyle, of course…
“We have some things to talk about, mister…” she whispered sternly to Bruce.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know but not here.”
“Why are you hiding things from me?”
Bruce shook his head and closed his eyes.
“I’m not… It’s just that so many things happen…”
She nodded and smiled.
“I like that scruffy look on you…” she winked.
“Ugh! Alfred would be mad… But you’re gorgeous! And you’re telling that you
don’t like suits…”
“I still don’t…It’s not my fault that every style flatters me…” she lifted her
eyebrow playful.
The boy that was explaining to Bruce how he had sculpted the frame of the
painting the young man held stopped talking seeing him engaged in another
conversation but Bruce turned again to him and the boy continued.
“You have to be careful, buddy: those guys are tough!”
Clark saw Tony Stark patting Bruce’s shoulder blade. The billionaire had
removed his jacket and tie. Bruce turned to him smiling and Clark felt a really
nasty pang of jealousy; his Star never smiled to him like that only glowered at
him.
“What did you think, Californian? They’re born in Gotham…”
“Master Bruce…” Alfred’s shocked voice froze Bruce and his company goggled.
The butler had come silently with Pepper who was chuckling.
“Where’s your jacket? And your sleeves… Oh my! The ribbon ceremony is about to
start… and your attire is unacceptable!” Alfred’s panic would have been funny
but the butler meant it.
Bruce scratched his hair.
“I…took my jacket off at the bridge and I left it there…”Alfred shook his head
disapprovingly and Bruce blushed.
Tony fixed his tie and wore the jacket Pepper brought and sniggered at his
friend.
“Uuuu! I love it that I’m the good kid for once!”
Bruce narrowed his eyes to Tony who continued laughing. Alfred turned on his
heels and almost ran to the bridge.
“I could go fetch it” Bruce said to his back but Alfred didn’t answer.
“He tossed his jacket to the bridge…it definitely got wrinkled…and his
shirt…Oh! I must correct this mess before the ceremony…” his mumbling was
flying around him. “Oh! Master Bruce…”
Bruce rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortable and the boys and girls of his
company giggled.
“You think he’ll make it on time?” Tony perfectly dressed asked his friend
winking.
“I hope so…” Bruce answered “otherwise I’m doomed…”
The teachers and the staff of the orphanage and hostel gathered the kids to
continue the party inside the premises. The white light of the street lamps and
the multicolored lights between the plants illuminated the park and Martha’s
statue was lighted by small spotlights.
Selina had already left to mingle again with the crowd and Alfred returned with
Bruce’s jacket impeccably pressed and Leslie clearly amused.
As Bruce fixed his sleeves and wore his cuff links under the amused eyes of
both Tony and Pepper Alfred combed his young master’s hair and helped him wear
his black jacket. Then the loyal man buttoned his white silken shirt and
knotted his black pinstripe tie.
“I would suggest” his tone was more of an order or threat than suggestion “you
not unbutton your jacket; your shirt is slightly wrinkled!”
“How you made it?” Bruce asked impressed seeing how perfect his abused jacket
was.
“There are some gadgets for us hard working butlers too, sir…”
“The Bat-Iron I suppose…” Tony whispered and Pepper erupted in laughter while
Alfred scolded seeing Leslie grinning too.
Clark felt extremely miserable for being left out not even permitted to watch
but just stealing moments and then he remembered that he is Superman, the most
powerful being on the planet and self pity wasn’t for him so instead let anger
fill his heavily beating heart.
***** Chapter 41 *****
The good thing about this splendid Hospital, except than having the ocean so
close, was that they allowed even to psychiatric patients to wander the huge
lovely garden that surrounded the buildings…, Jackie thought patting the big
muscles of the guard’s upper arm. Of course when you’re a frequently escaping
loony like himself a chaperon is required; not that he couldn’t evade the bozo
if he wanted. It was so easy for the clown! Clown was the nickname of his
choice: Jackie the Clown because he made all the poor lads of the chronic
loonies’ ward laugh.
Of course he preferred screams of terror to laughter… or both…or, well, who
cares what he preferred. Let’s leave it to the whim of the moment… And that
moment the sun was shining between the thick leaves of the tall trees of the
garden and birds were singing happy. He loved that tweet or… hated it because
now it was getting on his nerves! That quiet, idyllic environment… Eeeek! Oh!
He was thirsty for an environment more fitting to his rich temperament:
narcissistic, histrionic and all the other bullshit the shrinks gave to him
these ten years he was stuck in here…
‘Stuck’…Not that it was that bad…He had free housing, free clothes and food and
good company either with the loonies or the docs who were more fun than the
crazies. Also, it was rather easy to sneak out when he felt like it; and when
the guards found him, oh, there was more fun: it was so easy to hurt them and
the way their meat tore gave him quite the turn on as the few beans he was
getting from them – nothing compared to what he was giving them…And after that
turn on he had to jerk off in the solitary room, the pain he received being as
much stimulating as the pain he gave.
Once he carved his face with the plastic knife they were given them to eat; the
poor docs couldn’t understand how a completely blunt object could do such
damage or how someone could do such thing to himself. But Jackie the Clown was
laughing because he achieved his goal. First he had perfected his clown
appearance with a permanent smile and got a nice orgasm while doing it; this
orgasm could be compared only with destroying the eye of that orc guard named
Callie: what kind of name was that? And he was a completely uninteresting man,
a dull waste of space so he was delirious when Callie after losing his eye
resigned from the hospital.
Hehe! When he put something in his head he could achieve it easily… Leaving the
hospital was piece of cake but he lacked the motivation… The something funnier…
Oh…Who was he? He saw a man sitting at a bench under the big oak tree. Jackie
hadn’t seen him again and that was interesting. Lately the hospital began
getting boring, the same loonies, the same guards, the same shrinks…He had
learnt them by heart and knew all of their reactions…Maybe the new one was fun.
He tugged at his guard’s upper arm; he had to act like a good kid.
“Siiiiir, caaaan I play with that kid oooover there?P-please?” he made his
voice childish.
The guard, Ronny was his name, rolled his eyes fed up with his antics; Jackie
hated it when other people didn’t laugh with his jokes.
“Go…” the man-tank said. “But I’ll be watchin’, so no funny business!”
Now it was his turn to roll his eyes: asking from a clown not to do ‘funny
business’! Outrageous! But let’s swallow it.
He hopped to the man who was reading a gossip magazine.
“Heeellooo, there!”
The man raised his puzzled eyes and stared at him, focusing on his scars. The
new ‘kid’ had green eyes like him but not so beautiful, of course and both had
approximately the same hair color. Jackie the clown barely hid his annoyance;
he hated it when other people had common things with him.
“Hi” he answered quiet.
“You waaant some company, huh?” the man looked anything but that yet Jackie sat
beside him. “I knew youuuu wanted.”
The man smiled amused.
“You’re funny, huh? Okay, sit.”
“When you’re new in a place youuuu feel lonely; and this is THE placeeee!”
The new one sighed.
“Sometimes you feel lonely even in your home…” melancholy waved in his voice
and Jackie the Clown grimaced.
“I don’t feel lo-nely anywhere: I have myyyyyself and when I want fun I get it
easily” he snapped.
The man laughed.
“You’re lucky, then!”
Jackie shook his head and scratched his nose.
“Nah! Only crazyyyy!”
The other guy erupted in laughter. Jackie noticed that he was tanned something
unusual for Boston.
“And you, new kiiiidooo?”
The man ruffled his shoulder length curly locks.
“I’m neither lucky nor crazy” he raised his eyebrows “at least yet…”
“Then what are youuuu doing to our looovely hospital?”
“I’m trying to give up alcohol, to start a new life.”
So he was on the Rehabilitation Facility.
“You’re not from heeeere, huh? You have the tttaaan they pay grands to get…”
The man shrugged; he didn’t look talkative and Jackie narrowed his eyes
frustrated.
“C’me on, buddy…I’m not a shriiiink aaaand there’s nooooo chance I’ll get out
of here. I bet you paid muuuuch money to be here and talk to people just
nodding and mumbling bullshit...”
He sighed.
“My few savings… But I hope I’ll be able to start a new life after I’ll be
clean…”
Jack patted him.
“Talking is therapeuUUU-tic at least my shrink says so aaand I’ll be a better
listener than those ‘I see…’, ‘hmm…’ guys. But if you doooon’t want, hey,
doooon’t answer.”
The man cast a glance to his new acquaintance and shrugged, obviously thinking
that there was nothing bad in speaking to a stranger.
“I was born here but I live in LA.”
Jack tilted his head.
“LA has a loooot of garages like this, at least I think. You wanted to come
heeeeere to be near your family?”
The man looked at him frowning.
“You don’t look like crazy to me…”
Jackie shook his head.
“It’s that I took off the horns…”
The other man laughed.
“I don’t have a family; my parents died a couple of years ago and I am an only
child. You’re right; LA has many …garages but I needed to run away from that
place…”
Jack raised an eyebrow.
“You’re a Hoooolly-wood star then?”
The other man laughed bitterly.
“No, no, no… Far from it. I’m doing stand-ups in a lousy bar and even in that
I’m not so good…There are some guys who like my jokes, like Tony Stark but no:
I’m alcoholic but not a star…”
That guy doing stand-up comedy? Jackie laughed. No surprise he didn’t achieve
anything. He was a loser.
“Just ‘Wood for you then…For a comeeeedian you’re tooooo melancholic…”
The man chuckled.
“Ridi, pagliaccio” he looked at Jackie’s confused eyes “it means ‘laugh clown’.
They say that most comedians are depressed” he coughed “they must have had me
in mind…”
I don’t think so, Jackie thought, you’re anything but comedian. The man looked
him as if he was reading him.
“Maybe…” he nodded “after I’m out of here I start a new career. Anyway
Hollywood it’s not for me…”
“Whyyyyy?”
He crossed his arms and looked at the thick leafage of the trees.
“There is too dishonesty, pretense and hypocricy…People in their majority
idolizing stupid and hollow things while others plunge in sick things believing
that the entire world is theirs and that they can have whatever they want
without consequences because they’re famous or have enough money…”
Jackie pouted his lips.
“I’m maaaaaany years in the joint” he gestured to the building of the
Psychiatric Ward “but as faaaar as I remember that’s not Hollywood’s
exclusive…”
“You’re right but there is worse because everything is artificial, dusted with
glitter; nothing in that world is forbidden unless someone speaks which rarely
happens. So corrupt people control the success or the failure of the others
according to how good their connections are or how good they are in ass
kissing…” he shook his head negatively. “I never managed to fit there…”
For Jackie that world seemed fun; everything allowed if you had the power. A
chaos giving the impression of a fairytale world; a dream that came true
because chaos was indeed a fairytale. And success was only a matter of ass
kissing or cleverness.
“Yeah youuuu didn’t fit…” he said to the man from LA. “If you did you’ll be
heeeere fooor drugs not alcohol…”
The other laughed loudly.
“Booze is cheaper than drugs and was free of charge in the bar I worked till
the boss realized and kicked me out…I had some savings and I decided that it
was time I did something good for me; I could have asked Tony to borrow me some
money but I didn’t” he snorted. “I have some pride left…not that Tony would
have denied; he’d have given me, he’s a nice chap unlike what they say…While
there are others” his gaze fell on the magazine’s front page with a fat guy
called Rothmeyer “who pretend to be good and philanthropists but fuck underage
girls behind closed doors…”
He closed his eyes in disgust while Jackie’s filled with glee; now if that
wasn’t the secret of success… His success… This blondie had much interest and
an idea formed in his mind: why not becoming the king of that chaotic, shining
kingdom? He wasn’t a loser like that dork in front of him and he had talent.
He stretched his hand to the man.
“Jaaa-ckie” he introduced himself.
The man grinned broad.
“That’s a coincidence! My name is Jack too. Jack Napier” he shook the offered
hand. “And your surname?”
“Nooope! I dooon’t have one” he shrugged seeing the guard approaching to get
him inside. “I neeeever needed one yeeeet everyone knows me as ‘Jackie the
Clooown’!” but maybe I’ll take yours…
“Nice meeting you, Jackie.”
“Me too, Jaaaack” he ruffled his short hair and realized that he needed to grow
them. “Myyyyy bodyguard” he gestured to the guard “he’ll get me to the
spaaaaa…”
Napier smiled and the clown saw in his eyes that the man from LA liked him.
“Did he create any trouble, sir?” the guard asked and Jackie rolled his eyes
and showed his tongue making Napier laugh.
“No, he’s very good!”
The guard snorted and took Jackie from the upper hand yet he evaded his grip.
“Those body-guards are soooo protective!” he said winking to Napier. “I know
the road, dar-ling. See ya, newbie!” he waved goodbye to Napier and he
answered.
From that day Jackie the Clown was thinking hard without changing his attitude
to not raise any suspicions. At the same time he continued meeting Napier daily
and making him company and laugh. The idiot was opening to him believing that
hypocrisy was only Hollywood’s curse…Napier was telling him stories from the
world of the rich and famous and they both laughed. And then one day he told
him that his release was near and thanked him because without Jackie he
wouldn’t have managed to make it.
Joker looked at his reflection on the whole body mirror and fixed his silken
purple bow. Then he buttoned his new suede deep purple jacket which reached his
knees matched with trousers of the same fabric and color. A dark green vest
made of velvet and a white with green and purple dots shirt finished his formal
attire.
He combed his newly painted green locks with his fingers and regarded his
makeup. Everything was perfect.
It was a good day the day he met Napier; wasn’t for him he wouldn’t have found
his real inclination neither he would have met Bru-cey. He owed something to
Napier but he repaid him by relieving him from the burden of a life full of
failures.
He grabbed a plastic daisy and pinned it to his lapel.
He slipped on the railing of the stairs and found his newly hired goons – all
of them Gotham’s elite – waiting. He gestured to one of them and he heaved a
plump woman that was on the floor tied and gagged.
“Well, boooys! We have a paaarty to attend” he furrowed his brows. “There would
be elegant people there soooooo be-have!” he moved his head showing the exit
and the goons surged to the waiting cars and van.
Joker danced outside the building.
“I’m coming up soooo you better geeeet this partyyyy started…”he sang and
jumped to the first car’s passenger’s seat.
 
“Whose idea was the red and gold scissors?” Tony whispered to Bruce when he
offered him the scissors to cut the ribbon.
Bruce grinned.
“Hmm…It was a democratic decision. Don’t you like it?”
“You’re kidding? I’m going to keep it…”
He cut the ribbon with one swift movement and the cameras flashed
simultaneously. Still it was the bangs and the thousands multi-shaped and color
sparkles in the dark blue sky that got all the attention especially of the
children who were gathered by their teachers to watch the ribbon ceremony and
the fireworks before they returned to the Hostel where a second party for them
was hosted. The younger attendants gasped at the spectacle with their heads
yanked upwards.
The adults applauded and Tony looked at Bruce with an eyebrow lifted showing
him the scissors.
“And it’s sharp…I had a fear that it won’t cut the ribbon and I’d have to cut
and cut and cut while people would be sniggering…”
“Now that’s quite the nightmare!” Bruce chuckled. “Yet it can’t be red and gold
if it’s not sharp…” he winked.
Tony nodded.
“Good point!”
The doors of the Administration Center opened automatically and Pepper ushered
the officials inside; the newly elected mayor Anthony Garcia, the DA, the
Police Commissionaire, Gotham’s congressmen. The rest of the people followed
inside the foyer and to the lecture room on the left side of the building’s
ground level where some speeches were due before the reception.
The flock of reporters followed the officials and VIPs without noticing that
the two hosts descended the sideways wheelchair ramp to meet the children and
bid them goodnight. However Bruce could feel a pair of blue eyes piercing him
at times from inside; Clark had located him.
“You know… I miss already those little fellas…” Tony said to Bruce watching the
crowd of younger and older kids directing to the Hostel to celebrate at the
spacious party room.
Bruce smiled.
“I wish Dick and his grandmother were here too...maybe he’d have felt a bit
better” he pressed his lips. “But I guess he hates me so much that he didn’t
bear my presence even from a distance…”
Tony patted him and sighed.
“He’s just a kid in pain; deep inside he knows that it wasn’t your fault…”
His friend nodded because he didn’t want to sadden Tony.
“They’re good kids…” he changed the subject. “You’re right, I’ll miss their
fuss” he smiled. “But I feel relieved because everything went well and they’ll
be safe.”
They walked slowly back to the Center, a two storey building of a moderate size
and height created in a mode that made it friendly to people. It was
rectangular leading to a small round foyer at the front where you ascended from
a small stair with wide steps or from the wheelchair ramps at the sides; at the
right the ground level projected into a roomy atrium which was the event’s
hall. Two Doric columns supported the small porch of the entrance upon which
was carved in silver letters THOMAS WAYNE ADMINISTRATION CENTER.
Bruce gazed at the inscription and Tony noticed.
“Are you happy?”
He grinned and nodded.
“And I’ll be happier when this night ends without incidents…”
Tony grunted.
“Joker will be nuts to try anything with Ironman and hundreds of cops in the
building and premises…”
“He IS nuts, Tony or at least pretends to be. The gist is that he doesn’t give
a damn about ‘rules’.”
Tony was pissed with that clown.
“One side of me wants him to come so I get the chance to treat him a missile!”
Bruce looked at him disapprovingly.
“What? You know that I can also fuck the rules especially when my friend’s life
is in risk…”
As slow as they make their steps the entrance was right before them and the
shining foyer raving from chats and giggles was calling them. A small team of
police officers with uniforms had taken their places on the entrance’ porch and
patrol cars were silently patrolling the building’s perimeter.
Bruce sighed seeing the moves.
“I wish we didn’t need all this… Yet we have Garcia waiting for us to make his
speech.”
Tony slapped himself.
“That’s worse than Joker!”
Bruce chuckled and pushed him inside.
The lobby was vast with two metal staircases leading to the upper floor in the
rear of which was the information desk with a large screen in the wall making a
virtual tour to the Haven’s premises. At the left of the desk was positioned
the spacious lift.
As soon as they entered the lecture room and took their places behind the
slightly elevated podium the people that had dispersed to the foyer returned to
the room and Pepper announced Mayor Garcia. The man was obviously thrilled from
his recent election victory and his self satisfied grin never left his face
during his speech which was too long and for the most part a repetition of his
campaign promises.
Tony turned to Bruce, lifted his eyebrows and rolled his eyes, bringing his
finger mimicking a gun’s point to his mouth and pretending to shoot. The
younger man hardly swallowed his laughter and just shrugged helplessly.
Then Garcia began talking about the Haven and its contribution to the
development of Narrows. He praised Thomas and Martha Wayne for their offer to
Gotham; he spoke about the generosity of Tony Stark.
Tony who had dropped his head on Pepper’s shoulder causing her exasperation
jolted hearing his name and Bruce chuckled.
However Garcia continued to express his and entire Gotham’s joy on the return
of Bruce Wayne which caused Dagget’s eyebrow rising in sarcasm, move that
didn’t slip Bruce’s attention. Garcia added that everyone was sure that the
young heir would continue his parents’ legacy and concluded speaking about
himself and how he from his new position would extend himself in helping every
effort who aims at Gotham’s well being because that city was his only
motivation when he decided to run for Mayor.
When Gotham’s Mayor began recounting his difficult youth in Falcone’s Gotham
and how he gritted his teeth to keep on fighting to remain unscathed from the
corruption Tony’s face sank more in Pepper’s shoulder.
Fortunately, Garcia’s speech ended with a warm applause from the crowd and Tony
was sure that people manifested their happiness that the speech finally ended.
Pepper jolted suddenly the shoulder Tony had taken haven and walked to the
podium to announce her boss at whom she glared when he approached and he
grimaced innocently.
“Thank you, Mayor” he turned to Garcia “for your praise and for ending your
speech because I’m starving!”
Many people from the audience laughed agreeing and Garcia blushed but smiled,
while Pepper’s eyes widened and Alfred among the crowd coughed either
swallowing his amusement or his disapproval. Bruce turned his eyes to Lucius
beside him and his top scientist grinned warmly.
“Anyway” Tony continued “thankfully I didn’t prepare a speech; besides I
consider Gothamites friends – at least most of them” his eyes found Dagget. “So
I speak to them as I would to my friends. I reckon that today is a beautiful
day for Gotham, a day of hope because today the foundations of a new age have
been set. I don’t say that everything will be solved with the Haven but it’s a
start, a step, a ray of hope that will give the inspiration – I hope” he
grinned “to other wealthy people in Gotham to take matters in their hands. And
with the support of Gotham’s first free elected and ‘clean’ Mayor; and that of
the DA and the Police Commissionaire I’m optimistic that this new structure
would grow to integrate the entire Narrows upgrading that area and giving its
residents new perspectives and a new bright future.”
He coughed and seemed uncomfortable and Tony Stark was never uncomfortable in
front of audiences and cameras.
“But most of all” he purged his lips “I want to thank the one man that made me
realize that the world doesn’t end in the limits of my luxurious house and
skyscrapers. I was lucky to meet the Wayne family and watch Thomas and Martha
embracing selflessly the people in need with generosity new to me. However it
was a child who first shook me to wake up; a child who when I told him that I
haven’t ever seen a single poor man he looked me in the eyes innocently saying
that he was sure that when I’d see a human in need I’ll do everything in my
powers to help him.”
Bruce sighed and tried to hide his uneasiness; he didn’t deserve Tony’s praise…
“And you know I followed that kid in the Narrows seeing people with his eyes
and share his love for them; and you know” Tony scratched his hair. “I couldn’t
disappoint the expectations in those eyes not even when…” he inhaled “I thought
that the eyes had closed for ever.” He lowered for an instant his eyes and then
looked again at the people. “When I initiated this project I dreaded that
moment when I’d have to attend this ceremony alone; then I believed that this
day will be a day of pain for me.” He shook his head. “Once again I was lucky
and today I’m not alone in this so I can share the happiness, yours and mostly
of those people that are and will be benefited from the Haven. So I want to
applause the man who inspired all these and will continue to do the best for
Gothamites. Bruce Wayne!”
He turned and gestured to Bruce who regarded him with widened eyes in
disapproval. Tony smiled and winked to him, beginning clapping which quickly
spread to the entire room. The youth searched the faces of Leslie and Alfred
for encouragement and found pride and deep love; he blinked, suddenly the room
was too hot…
Tony moved from the podium and Bruce approached controlling his emotions. The
older man patted him discreetly on the upper arm. Straightening his posture he
took in the people gazing at him; Harvey Dent was smiling his arm wrapping
Rachel Dawes who seemed happy too but with that mysterious hue in her irises;
Jim Gordon serious and benevolent with a beaming Barbara on his side: their
children were at the party in the park and now went with the other youngsters
to continue the fest. His eyes caught Dagget smirking at him with gleeful eyes
yet Bruce read in those eyes how distressed he was not only from the success of
the Haven but also from the leaks of the yesterday’s board meeting.
And then his eyes stopped as if pulled by a magnet on a pair of crystal blue
eyes that was piercing him behind overlarge spectacles. He shouldn’t watch
Bruce Wayne like this yet he wasn’t the only one and Clark didn’t seem to care;
however the intensity of those eyes was such that Bruce felt overwhelmed by the
passion, the fire, the desire and the obsession there. If those beautiful eyes
hadn’t got some specks of affection they’d be exactly like Falcone’s or Chill’s
or Ra’s’… No, he erased that thought: Clark would never be like them; even with
the damn drug’s effect.
He coughed.
“I’d like to thank Tony for his kind words and his praise which I’d like to
return to all the people who worked hard to create the Haven: Miss Victoria
Potts, Doctor Leslie Thompkins, Mister Lucius Fox and every woman and man that
attributed anonymously to help their fellow human beings. And of course Tony
who although was humble enough to deny it without him nothing would have
happened. Tony fulfilled my parents’ dream even under the shadows my parents’
murderer cast upon Gotham. But even under Falcone’s cruel rule and the
corruption and poverty he forced, there were people in Gotham who cared about
their fellow human beings and risked even their lives to soothe the pain and
help them: people like Dr. Thompkins whose free clinic remained open throughout
the hardships with her sacrifices and the help of good doctors and volunteers
who provided medical treatment, food and protection to the less fortunate;
people like Jim Gordon who throughout Falcone’s rule remained loyal to the law
and Gotham and never succumbed to the corruption that eroded GCPD: he and his
elite team of good officers not only helped dozens of people evade Falcone’s
murdering thugs but also played a crucial role to the operation for Gotham’s
salvation.”
He smiled to Jim who rubbed uncomfortably the bridge of his nose.
“I owe them my life. Also I’d like to thank all those people” he smiled to
Alfred “who despite the gloominess of all these years they kept offering
happiness to the children in need: I’m sure that their love and support gave
strength and courage to those kids to fight for their rights in life.”
He tilted his head on the side and blinked.
“I know I’m not good at this… But all in all I’d like to ask from every
generous soul in Gotham to continue supporting the people who found refuge in
Thomas and Martha Wayne’s Haven. At the time, the Haven covers 100 hectares and
as many of you already know includes the renovated Gotham’s orphanage, the
Thomas Wayne Administration Center, the Hostel which consists of semi-
autonomous apartments, the Education Building where highly qualified personnel
educates and prepares the Haven’s beneficiaries for their future occupation,
the Library and of course Dr. Thompkins’ free clinic that now is one of the
most highly equipped hospitals in Gotham and US. Also the Haven includes
recreational facilities such as the theater with an amphitheatric concert hall
and a modern cinema room, a highly equipped gym, cafees, Martha Wayne’s Park
and two small sport arenas: these facilities as everything in the Haven are
open to everyone. At the moment the Haven houses the 100 children of the
orphanage and another 400 people homeless or without the means to sustain their
own accommodation who follow special courses; also there are another 500
outside people who attend Haven’s various educational programs. We estimate
that the number of beneficiaries will double in the next year and in our plans
is to create a village with separate homes where our orphans will live with a
substitute mother in each house in the model of SOS Children’s Villages. Miss
Potts has already established a line of cooperation with the organization
assuring their guidance in this effort. I think that Thomas and Martha Wayne
would have been satisfied…”
He smiled.
“And now I’m proud to announce you the new joint project of Stark Industries
and Wayne Enterprises.”
He looked at Tony and the older man returned to the podium to present in
general the project of bionic body members and the arc reactor technology usage
to replace the lost control of movements due to impairments.
The reporters seemed impressed and the cameras flashed once again along
with the several cameras taping the event. Everyone was eager to learn details
about the project but Tony raised his palm.
“Tonight is Haven’s night; everything you want to know about the project will
be covered in the detailed presentation at the date mentioned in the Press
Release.”
“The arc reactor tech used in that is the same with the one used to Ironman’s
armor?” a smug reporter called.
Tony chuckled and shook his index.
“Ah, ah, ah! I’d be stupid to do that, right?” he winked.
“That’s impressive, Wayne” another shout to Bruce. “Not even four months at the
wheel and you present an innovative, breakthrough project.”
“Tony’s and Mr. Fox’s cumulative genius made that possible and of course the
scientific team that worked copiously to perfect every detail.”
Tony cocked an eyebrow and leaned to the microphone with a mischievous
expression.
“Actually the whole thing was his idea; I was just a Pawn…”
The room erupted in laughter.
“Now, guys, I don’t know about you but I’m hungry” Tony said. “Those little
fellas at the park exhausted me; good thing Mr. Pennyworth chose the catering…”
he rubbed his hands eagerly but suddenly frowned.
Bruce was looking at the same spot and the reporters turned to the entrance of
the room.
“Is there a place for an…enemy?”
The reporters were stunned at the image of Lex Luthor’s arrogant posture right
in front of the entrance. Luthor had a warm benevolent smile on his face yet
his eyes had their usual arrogance. Everyone had in mind the incident at Tony’s
house when Luthor attacked Bruce only to be thwarted by Bruce’s knee to his
groin and Tony’s punch. Lois Lane’s video had led to Luthor’s humiliation and
LEXCORP’s shares’ drop.
Tony fumed and was ready to kick him out of there when Bruce touched his
fingertips on his upper arm unnoticed by anyone except Clark who frowned.
“In Haven nobody is enemy…” Bruce said “unless of course he wants to be.”
Luthor beamed at him and nodded.
“I see that Mr. Wayne isn’t only the bravest man I know but also the most
generous” he said pompously walking towards the podium under the volley of
camera shots and Tony’s glare.
Bruce however was calm and calculating as Luthor offered his hand.
“I believe that this is the best opportunity to officially express my apology
for my inappropriate behavior that night at Tony’s house” his gaze focused on
Bruce’s face; he didn’t hide his surprise yet hid his estimations for Luthor’s
move. “I know that it’s not an excuse but that night I was intoxicated…”
“If you have a drinking problem there are many fine rehabilitation clinics…”
Tony snapped crossing his arms and shaking his head in utter disbelief.
Luthor turned slightly his head casting an acknowledging glance to Tony and
then centered his attention to Bruce.
“I admit that at first I was too selfish to apologize yet now before everyone I
apologize, Mr. Wayne” his eyes were pleading yet Bruce could see beyond. “It’d
be an exploitation of your generosity to consider me an ally from now on and
perhaps…a friend?” he smiled cordially and Tony snorted.
As Clark who felt his eyes reddening and his heart pumping enraged. His lips
were pressed in a tight line and his hands had formed fists. He focused on
Luthor’s stretched hand: no, his Star wasn’t that fool to swallow that.
Everyone knew that Luthor never apologized to anyone especially in front of
people; he obviously wanted something. His eyes bulged as Bruce gave his hand
to Luthor in a quick, decisive move. His heart sank and his body shook with
anger.
Luthor was all beaming when the cameras flashed once again to immortalize this
unexpected sight. Bruce however gave just a hesitant stretch of the lips which
died when Luthor patted his upper arm upon which the younger man twitched and
Tony made to move aggressively. Luthor hastily removed his hand whispering his
apology flushed.
“Is it possible I make a statement?” he asked Bruce and he nodded moving aside.
“I came here tonight without knowing if Mr. Wayne would forgive me” Bruce was
sick of this apology-forgiveness game yet he concealed his irritation. “So I
came here as a man of charities to express my full support to the Haven…”
“As if we needed your support from all people!” Tony snapped indifferent to
Bruce’s hushing glance and Pepper’s nudge at his ribs.
Luthor closed his eyes in despair and smiled turning to his former classmate;
he raised his hands in the air.
“Tony, Tony… I understand your protectiveness, I really do: I’d have done the
same thing in your place” Tony grinded his teeth and his carbon eyes shone.
“But I realized my misdemeanor and I apologize to you too.”
Luthor gave Tony a sweet smile that made Tony sick and Clark shared the feeling
applauding inside the billionaire’s snarky remarks.
“Well, as a token of my support to that valiant and beautiful effort I’d like
to offer one million dollars to Thomas and Martha Wayne’s Haven” he pulled out
of his light grey jacket’s pocket a check and showed it to the press; Clark’s
anger reached his limits when he saw the name of Bruce as the recipient.
Bruce felt horrible hearing Luthor uttering his parents’ names yet he kept his
cool while the reporters gasped awed at the amount of money.
“This isn’t a fundraiser!” Tony spat approaching Luthor menacingly .
Luthor was already offering the check to Bruce and Clark’s heartbeat surpassed
his normal levels: Bruce just couldn’t take the money of that worm... The young
man didn’t even look at the piece of paper.
“Tony is right, Mr. Luthor.”
“Please, call me Lex.”
“Tony, is right,…Lex: this is not a fundraiser. If you want to make a donation
you can speak with the financial department of the Haven.”
Luthor seemed shaken and a slight frown creased his face; he didn’t expect that
clever reaction, he wanted Wayne to take the check in front of everyone. The
boy was smart…He smiled and Bruce returned the smile nodding as the older man
put the check back in his pocket.
Pepper a bit upset walked to the podium and announced the end of the speeches
and the beginning of the feast at the event’s hall.
The foyer was already ringing with music played by the band inside the event’s
hall and people happily rushed there. But Clark remained in a corner covered
from the crowd getting out; he wanted to watch, to figure out what Luthor
wanted.
“It was so bad to give the check right to you?” Luthor asked innocently yet
Bruce knew that the wicked billionaire knew perfectly well how bad it was.
“There is a given procedure for such matters.”
Luthor nodded.
“Fine. Can at least ask you to come for dinner to my suite to discuss about
future collaboration between our companies? Or there’s a ‘given procedure’ for
this too?” he smirked.
Tony’s eyes widened; he on purpose didn’t let Pepper drag him to the hall
because he didn’t trust Luthor alone with Bruce although the building’s
entrance had an alarm for guns.
Clark’s heart stopped as well as his breath.
Bruce smiled which camouflaged an estimating smirk inside him.
“Well, that can be done…”
Tony sighed and yanked his head exasperated; he stormed to his friend who
looked at him calm.
“Bruce…”
Luthor shook his head slowly, smiling condescendingly.
“Come on, Tony; I won’t kidnap Bruce…”
Tony snorted and tilted his head.
“I expect everything from you!”
Luthor shook his head and shrugged innocently to Bruce.
“He is so possessive of his friends… Of course when it comes to you I
understand him… Tomorrow night at ten o’ clock is convenient for you?”
“I believe so” he stopped Tony before speaking.
Luthor turned to leave the room and cast a last kind glance to Bruce.
“I’ll be anxiously waiting.”
“I bet you will!” Tony spat at his retreated form and Clark thought exactly the
same.
Actually, Clark felt numb during the whole scene: Bruce’s refusal to take the
check ruined Luthor’s attempt to make him seem like a whore. But now… Clark
felt betrayed; how it was possible his Star to accept a tet a tet dinner with a
man who three months ago treated him like a whore and only a few minutes ago he
did the same thing?
Luthor passed Clark sniffing at him smugly and his expression jeered him
because he succeeded in befriending Bruce while Clark was an outcast. Why Bruce
was doing that to him? He couldn’t be like this; he couldn’t succumb to
Luthor’s proposal only because he offered him a fake apology and one million
dollars… That was cheap… Well, not literally cheap but still cheap.
“Are you nuts?!” Tony asked exasperated Bruce who seemed completely calm.
“Tony, calm down; we should go to the hall.”
“Fuck the reception! Your tranquility gets on my nerves! The man is pervert!
When we were classmates at college he saw you in a picture and his eyes shone
devilishly and he asked me to meet you; you were just seven and he sixteen!”
Bruce’s eyes gazed at the corner where Clark stood and Tony followed halting
abruptly his rant. Clark realizing that he was busted turned on his heel and
mingled with the people going to the atrium.
Tony shook his head and raised his eyebrows.
“We also have him spying… At least he didn’t reveal in his article our
projects.”
Bruce sighed and rubbed his temple.
“It isn’t his fault… Just…just let’s go to the hall.”
“You won’t get out of this easily…” he shook his finger warningly but walked
along.
People were already in the mood chatting, giggling, eating and drinking under
the neutral music and a glass roof so discreet that gave the impression that
nothing was between them and the night sky. The event’s hall was spacious,
decorated minimally with white and salmon colored real flowers while the huge
arch shaped window seeing to the park was framed by white silken draperies
bound with salmon straps. In the stage the band was playing and several couples
danced; the buffet adorned with bows and flowers, stretched in the entire wall
length and was filled with every kind of delicacy that won everyone’s
appreciation.
Bruce and Tony found Lucius talking to Alfred and Leslie.
“Lucius, I’m sorry you had to work till so late” Bruce told his loyal partner.
Lucius gulped an appetizer and smiled.
“Not at all, Mr. Wayne; besides it was worthy and the long hours’ payment too”
he winked. “There are only a few details left. Tomorrow will be ready.”
Bruce sighed his heart jolting happy and anxious.
“And I’ll be there too” Tony added. “For the last details.”
“Thank you both” he smiled.
“However” Leslie intervened “what bothers me is the impact this will have to
your organism.”
Bruce shook his head.
“I don’t think there’s something worrisome. Anyway I’d prefer not discuss it
anymore here.”
Tony took a glass of whiskey and sipped.
“Yes; we don’t know who might be eavesdropping…Or we know…” he cocked an
eyebrow and frowned seeing something on the stage. “’xcuse me now but someone
annoys my girl…”
“But she is only dancing and seems enjoying it...” Bruce teased.
“Exactly…” Tony nodded.
He dropped his glass on the buffet and hurried to the stage where Pepper was
dancing with a nice looking young man.
Alfred gave a glass with juice to his young master and Bruce looked him
exasperated.
“Why not some wine?”
“Because you’re on medication, master Bruce.”
Leslie sipped from her glass wine and nodded.
“Doctor’s orders, young man” she chuckled.
Lucius laughed and Alfred took Leslie and headed to the stage causing Bruce’s
smile.
“Mmm… Mr. Wayne, do you mind if…”
Bruce saw Lucius looking at a small company of seriously talking men.
“Not at all, Lucius.”
As soon as he was left alone Bruce sighed. It was so odd being the host in a
reception instead of just the host’s exhibited toy. He realized that he had to
socialize with his guests yet his insides were twisted and his legs pinned. And
the fleeting and persistent gazes at him, enjoying openly his features or
flagrantly showing lust weren’t helpful. It’d have been completely unnerving
and paralyzing if he wasn’t trained to control his emotions. So he moved on.
He saw Jim Gordon and his wife in a corner and crossed the room towards them
causing the impressed stares of women and men alike. Damn! He cursed inside…
That suit was too finely tailored and he knew that the fabric was too…He didn’t
know what exactly but people were gaping at him: he should have wrinkled his
clothes more…
At least Clark was absorbed in chat with his colleagues and Luthor was
discussing with Dagget; however the tycoon from Metropolis noticed him moving
inside the room and turned his head to him smiling. Bruce just nodded, averted
hastily his eyes and greeted Mr. and Ms. Gordon with a broad grin.
“Do you like our small fest?” he asked giving his hand to Ms. Gordon for a
handshake.
“Of course, dear… I mean Mr. Wayne” Barbara flushed but Bruce smiled.
“It’s okay, Ms. Gordon” he reassured her and Jim smiled uncomfortably.
“Everything is perfect!” Barbara continued. “And the kids had a really
lovely time at the park as I’m sure they still have.”
“I’m glad for it!” Bruce smiled and gave his hand to Jim. “It’s an honor for me
seeing you here, Commissionaire.”
“Not at all, Mr. Wayne; I wanted to be here tonight. This project means a lot
for Gotham and your praise for GCPD was” he raised his eyebrows and shook his
head “much needed and appreciated.”
Bruce frowned.
“I fully meant what I said.’’
“I know, I know but after Joker’s escape at Chelsea Bridge people doubt us” he
tilted his head “and I don’t blame them.”
“Come on, Jim” Barbara said “you’re harsh on yourself.”
“I heard in the news that you found and put in custody the man that left the
car Joker used to escape.”
Jim nodded.
“Yes; he had just graduated from the academy and they bribed him…” he shook his
head disappointed. “It’s disheartening really; I thought that a new era had
started for Gotham’s Police…”
Bruce swallowed hard. He understood Jim’s feelings.
“But it really started, Commissionaire: the fact that you immediately found and
arrested him proves that police has put behind the bad times of the past. And
Gothamites know it…”
Jim looked at the Wayne heir’s glistening with faith eyes and smiled somewhat
encouraged.
“Bruce!”
It was Harvey with Rachel. The DA shook hands with Bruce; he looked rather
happy and Bruce was glad that finally he could be satisfied with him too
because he had seen in the DA’s office’s mail that a DAT was sent today to
Rachel Dawes. However the young woman was completely unfazed beaming at him
when they shook hands.
“It was very kind of you inviting me, Bruce” she said and Bruce still discerned
that odd thing in her gaze.
“Don’t mention it, Rachel. I wanted around me people who will be happy with
children's joy ” Rachel this time couldn’t stop her eyebrows rising in
confusion and Bruce made another mental note. “I’m glad you seem alright; I
heard that Joker roughed you up.”
She cast a sideways meaningful glance to Harvey.
“Thanks to your handsome DA I recovered rather fast…”
Harvey blushed and Jim coughed in his fist while Barbara laughed.
“Your speech was quite inspiring” Harvey said to Bruce.
“I thought it was an incoherent babble” Bruce rubbed his temple. “Thank you,
Harvey.”
“I think that you, Mr. Wayne, are far beyond ‘incoherent babbles’.” Jim
remarked pushing the rim of his glasses on his nose. “Gotham is lucky to have
you back” his eyes were piercing the youth’s who lowered his eyes really
flushed.
Rachel hoisted her glass of whiskey and smiled oddly.
“To Bruce Wayne!”
The rest of the company did the same and Bruce gulped uncomfortable his juice.
“Bruce, why only juice?” Harvey asked amused.
“I don’t really like alcohol…” he answered vaguely not wanting to reveal more
in front of Rachel.
He excused himself and approached Fredericks and his company of board members
and their wives. It was there that Vicky Vale holding graciously a flute with
champagne approached him.
“Congratulations, Mr. Wayne” she said slyly. “You impressed us not only with
your stylistic choices – that suit is…perfect” her eyes showed that she didn’t
mean exactly the suit “but also with your business initiatives. And your
attitude in the board meeting was…umm…amazing! I’d like an interview with
Gotham’s most fascinating man.”
Bruce’s face became stony.
“Actually, the Haven was Tony Stark’s project as for the rest it was the result
of many people’s effort so it’s inappropriate to take the credit for it. In
fact it’s the members of the Wayne Enterprises’ board who made all these
possible; without their trust and support I couldn’t have done anything.”
He saw the board members in Fredericks’ company mumbling their approval for his
answer and Fredericks smiled at him.
“What about the interview?” she smiled seductively.
“You said that you wanted an interview with Gotham’s most fascinating man” he
grinned. “Good luck finding him because I’m not fascinating.”
The others laughed and Vale sobered.
“You’re too modest…” she commented and turned to leave only to fall on Luthor.
He was beaming arrogantly drinking champagne and kissed the blond reporter’s
hand.
“Our Vick didn’t take it well that an outsider managed to tape Batman;
especially, when the outsider is as stupid as Kent …” he laughed.
Bruce frowned and his eyes shone angrily.
“Mr. Kent isn’t stupid; is an acknowledged and moral reporter!”
Clark catching among the fuss his name stretched his ears and his face radiated
with glee hearing Bruce defending and praising him.
“Though I prefer Lois Lane’s interview with President Putin to Batman smashing
heads…” Bruce added and Clark’s joy moderated.
“Can I take him from you, gentlemen?” Tony suddenly wrapped his arm around
Bruce’s shoulder and without waiting the answer took him along. “Rough night,
huh?” the older man asked when they reached the empty now lobby.
Bruce nodded.
“I can’t get used to this…” he sighed. “It was hard before but still is…”
Tony nodded pressing his lips.
“You will get used to this, little guy…Just stay yourself.”
Bruce shook his head.
“If I was to stay myself I’d be in the cave” Tony rolled his eyes “or strolling
with you at the beach, or on a rooftop with Selina.”
Tony laughed and patted him on the back.
“It’s a necessary evil, buddy.” He lowered his voice. “I imagine how difficult
is for you when people stare at you like this…”
Bruce bit his lip; so Tony noticed.
“Good thing you’re here then to draw the eyes…” he smiled to lighten the mood.
Tony winked.
“Flattery won’t help you: why did you accept Luthor’s invitation?”
“Because I need to find out how much he knows and if he is associated with the
League” he whispered casting fleeting glances at the hall; the music and the
people’s white noise muffled their discussion even from Clark.
Tony tilted his head on the side cocking his eyebrow.
“I’ll answer that: he knows everything and he works with the League and
generally he is the worst things you can think” he widened his eyes for
emphasis and stretched his lips in a smile. “Now go there and tell him that the
dinner is cancelled.”
Bruce shook his head.
“It isn’t so simple; we need proofs and clues about their plans.”
Tony closed his eyes and dropped his head. He licked his lips.
“It’s a trap, buddy and you know it” he shook his head in the negative and
gestured exasperated to the air. “I’m sure you don’t want to trap yourself in
his suite.”
“I’ll have your cover and Selina’s; and I’m not exactly helpless” he held
Tony’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “We must urge them to make their
move; that way we’ll thwart them from endangering innocent people.”
“I DON’T LIKE IT.”
The younger man nodded.
“I know but we won’t let anything at chance. Anyway, it’s better not talking
about this here.”
Tony ruffled his hair.
“You know… the Avengers want to meet you…for some tea and sympathy?”
“Fury began the same?” Bruce gritted his teeth.
“I said the Avengers; they want to meet Bruce Wayne as well…Ugh! I begin to
feel neglected, like I’m losing my talent; you know: existential crisis…”
Bruce shook his head grinning.
“You’re always THE star, Tony…’’ his gaze traveled towards the Hostel. “I’d
prefer to be patrolling making sure everyone is safe…’’
“They are safe: Wayne Enterprises’ security, police officers, surveillance both
of the premises and my own, Jarvis on line” he shook his head. “Everything is
in control and the kids have more fun than us!”
Tony just finished his phrase when he frowned; he was constantly in
communication with Jarvis and now the AI relayed nasty news.
“What?” Bruce asked.
“It’s not here” Tony licked his lips nervous. “A robbery in a mall went awry at
LA and now the crooks hold hostages… Damn! It seems that they have bombs with
them; police is afraid that they’re terrorists…”
“Tony, go” the younger man told him calmly and understanding.
Tony shook his head.
“Nah…Police can handle it…” but Jarvis just told him that some explosions were
heard from the mall and Tony swore loudly.
“Go, Tony”
But the older man bit his lip.
“It’s as if this happened on purpose to draw me away from here. I won’t leave
you exposed.”
Bruce shook his head.
“The hall is full of undercover cops, the Haven is heavily guarded and Selina
is here; not to mention our alien friend. Those people in LA don’t have such
protection. I’ll be alright!”
Tony closed his eyes and sighed indecisive.
“Every minute you waste could be detrimental for them” Bruce urged him.
Tony activated his armor.
“If anything happens fuck the secrecy and defend yourself” he said to Bruce.
“Be careful, Tony.”
Bruce’s gaze followed the red and gold blur as Tony startled the guards in the
entrance as flew away. He reluctantly began walking back to the atrium when a
gentle hand slipped in his; he looked smiling at Selina’s sparkling green eyes.
“Finally, I find you alone! Ugh! You can’t believe what I’ve heard tonight
about you…I mean your …’’ she gestured to his body. “Most of them were
courteous in their comments but some others were…” she grimaced disgusted.
“Ugh! I wanted to smash their mouths!”
He just tilted his face raising his eyebrows; after all, the stares were
eloquent enough. He took Selina’s hand and twirled her as if dancing,
appraising her beautiful body highlighted perfectly in that elegant ensemble.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t have your conquests…” he said slyly and his friend
smiled wickedly.
“That goes without saying, darling!” she blinked seductively. “But I never mix
business with pleasure.”
“Mmmm…That means I’m the business…” he put his hand on her waist and began
moving her in the melodies coming from the hall.
Selina giggled with his initiative and followed.
“I’m your bodyguard, you forgot it? And you shouldn’t walk away without
informing.”
“A good bodyguard never loses her boss…” he teased her winking. “And Tony was
with me.”
“Where is he going?”
“A hostage situation in LA; the thugs have bombs and could be terrorists.”
She nodded and looked around patting Bruce’s shoulder.
“You wanted secrecy about me; dancing with me under the fleeting glances of the
boys who guard the entrance doesn’t ruin that?”
“I’m dancing with a breathtaking lady not my bodyguard…” he shrugged.
She leaned her head to his shoulder.
“And what about Superman?” she whispered teasingly. “I bet he heard about the
opening, saw how gorgeous you are and he is watching from afar green…”
“That’d be Hulk not Superman…” he chuckled.
“Green from jealousy!” she said among her laughter.
Bruce saw the playfulness in her eyes but his heart was heavy and he knew that
Selina could see it in his eyes. Of course Selina didn’t know Superman’s true
identity and thus that he was close enough.
“The effect I told you about is strong but soon it’ll be over with the
antidote.”
She nodded with her lips purged.
“I’m not sure that it’s only the effect…”
“I am…” he snapped and Selina understood that this discussion broke his mood.
“You know” she smiled trying to change the subject and the mood “I’d prefer to
dance on a rooftop as a proper” she leaned to his ear “Bat and Cat.”
He laughed.
Suddenly the sound of explosions reached the building from a distance and
instantly police sirens filled the night. Bruce and Selina looked at each other
realizing that the sounds came from the Hostel.
“The kids!” Selina uttered.
However Bruce after the initial shock seemed relaxed. He pulled out of his
inner pocket a device like a cell phone.
“Wait…” he said and Selina encouraged by his calmness looked perplexed at the
device.
“I thought you had a smart phone.”
“It isn’t a cell… It’s connected with the processor in the cave to alert me if
anything happens to the premises of the Haven…and…it didn’t vibrated…” he
pressed some buttons and shook his head. “Everything is normal; the explosions
were fake…”
“Then why the cops went there?”
Bruce threw the gadget back in his pocket and moved towards the entrance were
the guards remained in their positions.
“Because someone hacked police’s surveillance system into showing an incident
and bait them there…”
Selina followed.
“Then Tony will be returning?” she asked keeping her cool.
Bruce shook his head in the negative.
“Jarvis has his own surveillance system of the premises as me. Unhacked. So
Tony doesn’t know about the bait.”
He just finished his phrase when he grabbed Selina and jumped behind the
information desk taking cover just a second before a truck crushed on the
entrance blocking it and sending the guards of the patio jumping to flee the
smashing. Immediately a second nightmarish crush this time from the atrium
shook the building along with screams from the crowd.
Selina’s eyes were steely when she looked at Bruce.
“We’re getting you out of here NOW!”
***** Chapter 42 *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter is extra lengthy; I thought to divide it but I decided
     against cutting the action abruptly. I hope you like it.
Clark’s eyes were red on the verge of explosion. From the moment Stark took
Bruce and went outside he focused all his efforts in watching Luthor’s moves,
including eavesdropping his talk with Daggett. He wanted to have tangible
things to say to his Star to stop him from meeting that slug. He had promised
to himself that he’d keep his calm whatever he might hear but soon his hands
unconsciously clenched into fists.
“Wayne ruined your day, huh Johnny boy?” Luthor chuckled. “You couldn’t imagine
that such a beautiful head could conceal a sharp mind…”
Daggett rolled his eyes.
“Not that sharp if he shook hands with you and accepted your invitation; he is
just a puppet in Stark’s and Fox’s hands. The boy is sharp only in one thing… ”
he snorted.
Luthor laughed and gulped the last of his champagne leaving the empty flute on
the tray of a passing waiter.
“Not only in one…” he lifted an eyebrow. “His lips are as much enticing as his
ass” he tilted his head to the side thinking. “Of course his ass remains the
eighth wonder of the modern world!”
Daggett nodded tittering.
“This ass was carved by Falcone for eighteen years…” he sniggered.
“Lucky bastard! Even as an eight year old Wayne was THE FUCK! I had seen him in
a photo Stark carried with him like a charm …” he laughed loudly and sighed.
“I’m not a pedophile but I wish I had tasted Wayne’s ass when was soft as
silk…”
“I’m sure Falcone acknowledged the meaning of the expression ‘soft as a baby
butt’! Maybe his ass is still softest than most…” his sly eyes sparkled.
Luthor nodded.
“If I judge from the way the fabric embraces his ass cheeks… Anyway I’ll find
out tomorrow…”
Daggett raised his eyebrows.
“Sure thing” he nodded. “The boy is used to give it free of charge; now that
you gave him one million he’ll be massaging your dick with his ass cheeks while
you screw him!”
Luthor’s laughter made Clark’s body explode and he was ready to surge upon them
– fuck pretenses!- and shut their filthy mouths when a crushing sound coming
from the wall with the buffet stopped him as well as everything in the hall.
Instantly the wall was breached and the back side of a truck broke the huge
table in two. People began screaming and Clark readied to spin to change into
Superman but some people were around him and would notice that Kent vanished
giving his place to Superman.
Thugs jumped from the truck’s trailer pointing their assault rifles at the
guests who raised their hands or yelled. They wore masks with Disney
characters’ faces and scattered around the room while more barged in the atrium
coming from the lobby and the back entrance the catering staff used.
Where was Bruce? Clark wondered hoping that he was safe outside. And where was
Stark? The billionaire was the only indifferent about secrecy. But Bruce being
out of here meant that Batman was to come and then Superman would have the
chance to make an appearance too.
The cameramen who were taping the event for their media kept rolling the
cameras manifesting their professionalism or their vanity immediately recording
the gap on the wall and the thugs’ intrusion.
Clark saw the man he arrested at Bruce’s office dressed in suede and velvet
purple descending the piled debris, losing his balance and landing a bit
unceremoniously but still on his feet.
Joker straightened his posture with dignity although nobody was in the mood to
laugh with his slip. He dusted his jacket cursing, fixed his bow tie and
groomed his hair with his fingers; his gaze fell interested on the destroyed
buffet and took an oyster gulping the interior greedily. He furrowed and
twisted his lips.
“Nice…” he said. “Pppluuus they say that oysters are aphrodisiac…noooot that I
need them of course buuut we must be careful for per-formance anxiety…”
He turned his head towards the silent now crowd as if he was acknowledging
their presence for the first time. He made a full turn and bowed.
“Yeeeep! I have soooooome guests to enter-tain, uahhh!”
 
Selina and Bruce were watching behind the information desk people getting out
of the truck. They held rifles eager to fire and they wore masks of Warner Bros
toons; some of them dispersed to the atrium, some others climbed the stairs to
cover the upper floor and the rest remained at the lobby guarding the entrance
which anyway was entirely blocked by the truck’s trailer.
“Don’t tell me you hired clowns for the party and this is their idea of an
impressive entrance…” Selina cocked an eyebrow to Bruce.
“No, but their boss never needs an invitation” he gritted his teeth.
“It’ll be a bit odd for me beating Bugs Bunny and Duffy Duck but ther’s a first
time for everything…”
She made to jump to her feet but Bruce grabbed her upper arm.
“We said something about secrecy…”
Selina tilted her head to him rolling her eyes in disbelief.
“So what’s the plan, handsome?” she sighed.
Bruce understood that his friend was frustrated to call him ‘handsome’. He
brought out of his jacket the gadget which gave him access to the cave’s
processor and opened the camera watching the Administration Center. People with
guns had blocked every entrance including the emergency exit.
“If you planned to go out to…dress forget it” Selina whispered. “Unless we use
the windows which personally I love…”
Bruce shook his head in denial.
“The windows are connected to the alarm system; they’ll know someone escaped
and could proceed in reprisal. But there’s a secret passage leading outside the
building and…”
Selina shook her head.
“Don’t tell me you made a hole to the underground and have stashed a spare suit
there?”
Bruce smiled and shrugged.
“The caverns cover entire Gotham. And I wanted to be ready for any unpleasant
‘surprise’…”
“You’ll keep the entire fun for yourself, huh?” she snorted.
 
 
Joker scanned the space squinting: many celebrities but his prize nowhere. He
had seen Stark taking off but he didn’t have Brucey with him.
“Aaaaand where is my hoooost? Huh?”
He began marching gritting his teeth while people flinched when he passed them.
His eyes were glistening menacingly.
“This place is tooooo dark without my baaaabyyy” he mumbled. “C’me ooon,
people!” he shouted. “Wheeere’s Bruuceyyyy?”
He found himself in front of a man around forty who cringed trying to retreat.
But Joker snatched his upper arm and dragged him towards him. Joker tilted his
head and focused his mad stare to Daggett who felt his legs becoming jelly.
Clark who was watching sniggered at the man’s cowardice.
“I know you…” Joker frowned. “You’re that asshole Daggett who insulted my
Brucey in the board meeting” Joker not dragging his words was more terrifying
than anything. “I bet” he jolted his knee crushing Daggett’s groin causing his
squeal “you fancy my boy and…” he conjured one of his bare blades and brought
it to Daggett’s mouth. “I bet even tonight you said something and my Bruce left
the room disgusted!”
Joker’s eyes were spilling fires looking right through the trembling man’s
eyes. Daggett began huffing when the blade touched the corner of his lips and
Joker shook his head.
“Oh, yeah! You need to smile a bit more…”
“Joker, stop it!” Jim Gordon distanced from the crowd and looked at the madman
who released Daggett.
The businessman collapsed on the floor and Joker approached Jim lolling his
head interested.
“Oh! Theeeee Co-missionnaire!” he bowed. “Honored you are to see me again,
huh?”
Jim didn’t flinch as the clown approached more and circled him like a hungry
hyena.
“The person you look for is not here” Jim said stoically. “Police is on the
way” he shook his head. “So better leave before things get nasty for you”
although Jim’s voice had the quality of a good teacher’s voice he was staring
Joker’s face determined.
Joker seemed thoughtful for a moment and then erupted in hysterics under Jim’s
unflinching stare. Then suddenly Joker raised the hand with the blade and
smacked Jim in the face causing the man’s fall.
Clark hardly restrained himself from attacking the clown.
“For me?!” he shrieked and then giggled gesturing around him to the scared
people and the armed thugs. “If I don’t geeeeet what IIIIII want people will
dieeeee! Now I’ll suggest to the goooood undercover cops to put down their
weapons before I’ll put Jimmie to sleeeeeep.”
Some men and women came out of the crowd and let their guns on the floor, only
to be secluded in a corner by thugs fencing them with their gunpoints.
Alfred and Leslie hurried to Jim who was embraced by Barbara. Leslie wiped the
blood from Commissionaire’s face with her handkerchief and began testing for
indications of worse damage.
“It’s nothing, Dr. Thompkins” Jim said to her completely calm.
Clark quickly scanned the commissionaire and he was happy to confirm the man’s
estimation. But now Joker’s silence before the scene was unnerving; the clown’s
gaze was on Alfred.
“Isn’t heeee…?” Joker exclaimed mock touched. “Daaaaaadyyyy! Of Bru-cey…” he
tilted his head. “Well, the suuub-stitute one…”
 
The secret passage Bruce mentioned was at the corridor right by the lift
towards the bathrooms. Thankfully, the crossed stairs in the lobby’s center and
the information desk’s considerable length offered a good cover; they both were
quick enough yet Selina saw with terror one of the thugs staring at them.
However he didn’t shoot them or call his partners; she looked at Bruce confused
and saw him focused on the man’s eyes. The thug just turned his back.
They squatted in the corner formed by the wall behind the desk and the corridor
beside the lift. The goons at the entrance were chatting careless.
“How did you do that?!” Selina gasped.
Bruce frowned.
“What?”
“Stop hiding things from me! That man saw us… yet he didn’t do anything. And I
saw you piercing him with your eyes as if enchanting him.”
Bruce chuckled.
“There’s no magic, Selina. It is a Ninpo technique Ra’s taught me that enables
you confuse your opponent’s perception.”
Selina raised an eyebrow interested.
“That could be very handy…” in her business. “So you can confuse all your
opponents?”
“It takes time unless you have to do with someone of moderate or low
intelligence; it’s not the best tactic in a battle so we prefer other tricks.”
She shrugged.
“I still believe that beating them to a pulp was a better option…” she
whispered slyly.
Bruce smiled looking at his cell-like gadget.
“Sorry spoiling your fun, Selina.” He turned his head towards the entrance;
sirens from police cars flooded the air followed by ambulance sirens. “Police
is coming…”
Selina rolled her eyes.
“They figured out? Wow!”
Bruce pushed a big pot away and pressed his palm to the wall that gave a quiet
hiss and a tile the size of a child withdrew to reveal the entrance of a
passage.
“What now?” Selina asked bending and getting inside after Bruce’s nod.
“I wear the suit and come back and you go to the police and lead them inside.”
Selina from inside the passage cocked an eyebrow to Bruce who was still
outside. Her hands on her waist.
“What about the secrecy?”
“Renee Montoya or Harvey Bullock: you’ll speak to them” he raised his eyebrows.
“After all, you’re just an employee who attended the party.”
She shook her head smiling.
“They won’t believe me, Bruce.”
He pulled out of his jacket’s pocket a small lapel ID and gave it to her.
Selina read and snorted.
“Really now, Bruce… Kely Lisena? Where’s your imagination?”
He put his foot inside the passage and smiled to her.
“Well, I thought Kitty Cat but it would be quiet obvious, huh?” he winked.
“Smartass…” she snorted. “But I like the “art expert” part…”
“I knew you would…”
 
Alfred realizing that Joker was addressing him stood stretching his proud
posture and looked at him with his usual poised and slightly indifferent gaze.
“If you are referring to me, sir, I should inform you that I’m Master Wayne’s
butler not his father” that even from his own mouth pained Alfred; he loved the
boy so much but still he believed that didn’t deserve that honor plus he didn’t
want that madman taking advantage of his master’s feelings for him.
“Sir?” Joker raised his eyebrows and giggled. “Doooo I look like a siiiiir?” he
patted friendly Alfred’s shoulder, who didn’t flinch like many people in the
room. “Buuuuut I admit, Al, that I liiiike it” he pouted his lips. “It gives
the… ummm…proper formality to the moment!”
Alfred frowned but only inside.
Joker pressed his lips making his scars more evident; he took Alfred’s hand to
the crowd’s scared gasp and kissed it leaving a red lip- shaped print on.
“I know how important youuu are in my Bru-cey’s life” he smiled “aaaand I
asssssure you that I won’t get between you and him, I won’t steal him. I know
that people say bad things for me buuuuut I promise you that I’ll protect
aaaand love and caaaare for your beloved boy. I only ask the chance to beeee
your other son and make Bruuucey happy” he pecked Alfred’s forehead while the
butler’s eyes darkened enraged. “Do you give me his hand?”
Luthor laughed but Clark’s face reddened and he was sure that his eyes too.
That was infuriating! That loony asking from Alfred to marry his Star! He felt
his body shaking and his hand smashed the glass he was still clutching. He
should have killed him then… He was dangerous, another rival… At least Bruce
wasn’t there.
“Ummm?” Joker asked Alfred with his eyelashes flapping cutely.
Alfred who was taller than Joker sniffed at him.
“I suggest you stop this nonsense” he told him as if he was berating a naughty
child and not one of the most dangerous criminals. “You are just ridiculing
yourself. Sir.”
Many eyes bulged expecting Joker to hit the butler but the clown scratched his
head.
“Weeeell, not really... Uuuuuuu! A bad father-in-law!” he patted Alfred’s back.
“I like you, daaaady! Buuuuut you leave me no other choice thaaaan abducting my
love…I’ll be a new Roooomeoooo! Hehehahahehe!” he sobered and tilted his head.
“Except for the sui-cide part… I like all the other –cides buuuut not suicide.”
“Enough with this!” Harvey burst angrily and Rachel tried to hold him back
unsuccessfully.
Joker hunched cast only a sideways glance to the DA but the glee in his eyes
wasn’t amused anymore. He had come here for one man only and he wasn’t here:
okay, he always had fun with whatever life offered or didn’t offer but this was
too frustrating.
Harvey raised his hand unfazed by the madman’s sinister silence.
“Mr. Wayne isn’t here: you won’t get your hands on him. Let the people go and
you’ll have leniency.”
Joker yanked his head backwards and gave a loud screeching laugh. He span on
his heels and pierced with his glare the young DA.
“Wwww-Oooo-w! That’s what IIIII call a ne-go-tiation! Well done, Harv! I hope
your cases in court are more persuasive…” his eyes darted to Rachel who had
stayed a couple of steps behind Harvey. “Oooooh! Heeeelloooo, darling! My
former hostage; how nice to see you in that humble occasion…”
“Leave her alone” Harvey’s eyes flashed as he clenched his fists.
Yet Joker tilted his head towards the guests and returned a stray lock behind
his ear.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen. Harv here is right” his voice was monotonous even
tired. “Bru-cey isn’t here and with all due respect” he spread his arms “I came
here only for him” he held his lapels “I put on my dress suit for him; I had
everything prepared for him…not that I make plans…I’m mostly a man of whims…”
he raised his eyebrows and sighed. “I’m disappointed…sad…and a clown should
never be sad…” he seemed to thinking. “So I’ll tell you what I’m going to do…”
Some people breathed easier believing that the madman would leave and let them
unharmed; however Clark could say that this wasn’t the case as Gordon who in
the meantime had gotten up.
“To keep this night enter-taining I’ll start shooting people” he said
nonchalant and some women screamed and most men gasped. “And maybe someone may
remember where Bru-cey is… Beeeegining with…” in a flash his hand pulled out of
his belt a magnum and turned to Harvey “our beloved Harv! He’s only a temporary
DA after all…”
The shot shook the atrium with shrieks and cries accompanying it but Joker
looked amused at the spot where Harvey was.
A man around fifty was slumped on the floor with a large bloodstain painting
his stomach. Harvey kneeled held the man with tearful eyes; Rachel ran to him
looking puzzled to the ID on the man’s lapel that read “Steve Petrou, WE
Security”. The man wasn’t unconscious and was staring touched at the DA’s
tearstained face, breathing hard.
Joker shook his head in disapproval and waving his gun in the air causing many
short yells of fear.
“Whyyyyy people al-ways ruin my FUN?!”
 
The loud bang made Bruce’s and Selina’s eyes widen; Bruce immediately jumped
out of the passage and Selina held his arm.
“He is shooting people!” he whispered to her with some sweat already at his
forehead. “Batman won’t make it in time.”
Selina shook her head in the negative and her eyes got wild.
“Forget it, buster! You won’t return there!”
But Bruce’s eyes were already at the atrium.
“Is the only way; I’ll distract him till the police enters the building. You’ll
lead them here and the right moment they’ll raid.” His voice was decisive and
didn’t take objections.
However Selina didn’t eat that.
“This is your plan B?” she asked angry without letting him go. “It sucks!”
Bruce exasperated and impatient turned his eyes on her blushed face; he
understood her worry but he was worried too about his loved ones in there.
“This is plan B and I know you don’t like it but it’ll work. Lead them to the
passage and when you get here call me; my smart phone is in vibration mode.
Then wait for the right moment.”
She closed her eyes defeated.
“Which is?”
“When the lights go out” he saw Selina ready to ask and answered quickly.
“Lucius knows the emergency spot from where the lights are controlled; he’ll
put the building in darkness with my signal. I’ll attack the thugs then and
police will barge in.”
“How am I to explain that I know?” she asked grinding her teeth because she
knew that she couldn’t talk him out of this.
“Tell them that you helped with the designs and that the building runs with
generator power that can last for approximately three quarters.” He showed her
the pressure point on the passage’s wall that would open the wall for them.
“This is madness!” she made her last attempt. “You can’t just surrender to
him!”
Bruce smiled confidently to her and brushed her jaw.
“I’ll be fine; you remember who I am, right?”
She twisted her lips and nodded one second before Bruce touched the external
wall closing the gap. He heard her running and pushed the pot back to its
place. Then he headed for the lobby.
Selina followed the narrow passage hastily; her heart ached because recognized
that scene: it was exactly like all these nights when Bruce was leaving her to
return to Falcone’s brutality. Willingly. Always there was a ‘good’ ‘sensible’
reason for Bruce to surrender himself to abuse. And always it was for the
others… She let her eyes fill with tears because it’d give a persuasive image
to the cops: a frightened, distressed employee. Who was she kidding? Bruce was
the only one who made her cry… Ugh! Where was that Stark?!
 
Talia was watching CNN’s international news in her office. She sat on the
armchair of her desk and sipped her evening brew. She had watched on GCN,
Gotham’s biggest news outlet the live footage from the Haven’s official
opening.
They had covered live the ribbon cut ceremony and the speeches, while they
promised that they’ll broadcast footage from the reception later. Her property
pealed his bat skin and became the frail, sweet, gorgeous prince dressed in an
amazing black suit that fit and highlighted his body so naturally that it was
like Bruce was dressed and naked at the same time. The newly resurrected
prince’s attire had nothing lesser than the always impeccable suits of Stark;
the billionaire from Malibu was also stunning in his dark blue suit and gray
tie and he glowed from joy when cut the ribbon in his long lost friend’s
presence.
Talia smirked and raised an eyebrow: be happy of Bruce’s presence while you
can, Stark, because it won’t last for long…
As the time went by and she learnt more about her elusive property she
sympathized more with Ra’s for his obsession, passion, possessiveness. After
all, Bruce was worthy of it; even the demon was seduced by the helpless, bound
boy into leaving the entirety of his seed inside him. And maybe there were more
about Bruce that Ubu either didn’t know or didn’t confide in her; for example
why Ra’s chose the boy. He was observing him for a long time…maybe from his
birth.
She liked Bruce’s speech; he had his way with words too and he’d make a
valuable asset for the League even in persuading people; because sometimes
persuasion was more effective than force. She smiled smugly: that was proven
after all…
She saw Luthor’s entrance too. His apology-nonsense and the check for the
stupid Haven: everything according to her orders: generosity and kindness.
Bruce didn’t take the check… and she was sure beforehand that he wouldn’t: he
was too smart to grab a check before all these eyes like a whore. Luthor had
treated him like a whore in Stark’s party and the people condemned Luthor for
it; if Bruce took the same man’s money people would rethink the whole matter…
As she was watching the dull reportage suddenly the newscaster interrupted to
announce that a terroristic attack was in development at Gotham city. She
instantly tuned to GCN that had even some footage their cameramen shot from the
moment of the intrusion. Heroically. Talia laughed at that to be pissed at
seeing Joker almost falling from the debris and eating nonchalant from the
demolished buffet
This ridiculous clown believed that could lay his claim on her property! That
was preposterous. She downed the rest of the brew and sent daggers to Joker.
Maybe she should kill that insolent pest after all.
Or maybe that was another opportunity to watch again her property live in
action…. She smirked on that thought. On the other hand she had doubts whether
Batman would choose to make an appearance in front of cameras. So that left one
question: where was Bruce? Maybe Stark coaxed him into hiding till Ironman
cleared the field.
But where was Ironman?
 
 
Tony was flying in fool speed; the uneasiness inside him was twisting his guts
from the moment he left Gotham. Something was telling him that in LA lives were
in danger but something else, something vague cried to him to not leave; that
something was going to happen. He had his teeth clenched and flew as fast as he
could to be safe.
But still he had much way to cover and although only a few minutes had passed
he felt as it was hours since he left Bruce at the Center’s foyer.
“Sir”
Jarvis’ artificial voice was bad news; he cursed.
“Speak!”
“The Administration Center in Thomas and Martha Wayne Haven is under attack;
intruders with assault rifles have blocked every entrance and hold hostages in
the atrium. Police cars have surrounded the building at a distance.”
Tony now saw exactly what Jarvis was seeing. The main entrance at the lobby was
demolished by a truck that was completely blocking it while another truck had
crashed the external wall of the atrium and a third the back entrance for the
catering staff. The emergency exit was guarded by five armed thugs as many as
were guarding the entrance of the lobby. Several thugs were patrolling the
upper level while twenty thugs in the atrium had their guns pointed at the
guests.
“Bruce is still inside…” he hissed seeing the signal from the tiny transmitter
he had secretly pinned in his friend’s tie.
“Yes, sir; I’m afraid that Master Bruce is still inside.”
“Do we know who the intruder is?”
He used the Stark Industries’ satellite to get image from inside.
“Gotham’s police estimates that it’s…”
“The Joker!” he completed the phrase. “Damn!” he was still far from LA and far
from Gotham and Bruce surely would try something to save these people… Their
loved ones were trapped there too: Alfred, Leslie, Lucius, Pepper…
“There is a shot, sir” the AI’s emotionless voice repeated to him what he
already received from the surveillance system. “A man is alive but severely
injured.”
Tony felt the face plate suffocating him; hot sweat was running to his face but
his heart’s beating was really exhausting fuelling his mind’s crazy fast but
stupidly ineffective thoughts. What was he to do? People were in grave danger
in LA and in Gotham a man was severely injured while Bruce and their friends
were trapped there. Of course there was Superman undercover but obviously he
couldn’t do anything while being Kent and Tony wasn’t sure if the alien’s
powers would suffice.
And there was Bruce… The Batman…Surely his friend would have some plan or
several different plans which would include the flying rodent. Bruce had also
Selina and those two were amazing.
But Tony still couldn’t breathe normally; he wanted to turn around and return
to Gotham to blow that motherfucker up but…there were people at LA facing death
and bombs or bombs and death without Batman and Superman among them… He
realized he was afloat in midair unable to decide; his heart and his brain were
in Gotham seeing Bruce in the same building against a small army and a madman
who was obsessed with him. He was feeling exactly as when Alfred called him in
the middle of the night to inform him that the Waynes were dead and Bruce
missing… And the sweat was slowly, torturous descending his cold face.
“Go to your friend.”
Tony whipped his head backwards startled. It was Captain America in his full
battle regalia; he was standing on his shield and… flying? Tony made to slap
his face stopping at the last moment remembering that he was in armor. It was
Tony that put some tricks to Captain’s shield giving him the ability to cross
great distance flying.
“I’ll handle things in LA, Tony. Your friend needs you. Go!”
“Thank you, soldier!”
Surely the media had covered the news of both the hostage situation in LA and
the attack at Gotham so Steve learnt and came to help. Tony nodded to his
comrade and saluted military style.
Captain America pressed his lips, answered his salute and left towards LA while
Tony made a full turn to Gotham. He had many miles to cover till Gotham and his
heart throbbed; when Joker attacked he was already more than half the way to
LA. He sped as much as he could but still it seemed slow to him…He clenched his
teeth; he had to make it on time. He couldn’t let down Bruce again…
 
Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck gaped at the sight of Bruce Wayne strolling about the
lobby and immediately surged at him stretching their rifles. The young man was
so shocked that forgot to raise his hands but they knew better than even
thinking to shoot the boss’ fiancé.
Bugs sniggered at the thought and snatched the youth from the upper arm causing
a huff of pain.
“I pained ya, dollface?” he barked. “Boss waits ya, ya Highness!”
Daffy laughed at his colleagues’ comment.
Bruce realized that they were Gothamites and surely not the usual mentally
impaired men Joker hired. These must be recruited from Gotham’s underground.
Bugs ordered the rest of the goons in the foyer to stay at their position and
manhandled Bruce towards the atrium clenching his arm so viciously that it
surely would bruise. But the youth was used to much worse than this and
actually it helped with the sight he wanted to achieve.
“This man needs to be taken to a hospital immediately!” Leslie shouted to
Joker.
She was kneeled beside the semi-conscious Petrou and she had her jacket pressed
to his stomach to staunch the blood but still a small blot of blood had formed
on the floor. Her eyes were spitting fire to the madman and Bruce admired her.
Beside her was Alfred helping an obviously distraught Harvey held his father
properly to not aggravate the blood loss while Rachel wiped the sweat from the
injured man’s face. Bruce breathed a bit easier seeing that the good man
although injured was still alive.
Jim with a bloody line on his cheek made a step towards Joker who looked at him
purging his lips.
“Let this man go” the Commissionaire said calmly and completely unfazed from
the man’s gun. “Let’s keep our calm; you have nothing to gain killing people!”
Joker giggled.
“Who told youuuuu that I kill to gain? You’re bizarre, Jimmie! Youuu’ll be the
next in succession… after aaall you’re temporary too, huh?”
But something else got Joker’s attention; his ‘father in law’ and the bossy
doctor were staring towards the atrium’s entrance with terrified eyes. He
forgot Gordon and twirled there; suddenly the night regained its meaning and
his smile was broad and genuine.
He replaced the gun in his belt and raised his hand like a poet ready to
recite.
“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.”
Alfred would have rolled his eyes in this execution of Shakespeare but he was
too heartbroken seeing that his young master chose to return.
Clark who was the first to realize that his Star entered the atrium was still
looking with widened eyes wanting nothing more than to rip that thug’s rude
hand that dared to touch Bruce. And Joker reciting those verses made him mad
with jealousy. But Bruce was there to prevent the loss of human lives – though
some of these lives like Daggett who was smirking and Luthor who was looking
intensely his Star didn’t seem very worthy to be saved. However he would wait
and help with whatever plan Bruce had.
“Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. . . .”
Bruce rolled his eyes but only inside; he remembered vaguely those verses from
the good times, long ago, that Alfred read to him the nights to lull him.
Suddenly Joker’s hand jerked and a silver lightning stormed towards the
entrance. People shrieked and both Alfred and Leslie froze in their places.
 
Talia was watching avidly the live footage from the Center’s atrium; she
thought that it was insane for the modern civilization to watch from their sofa
such a spectacle: a madman threatening and shooting people. She smirked; the
world hasn’t evolved much from the Roman Empire era when people cheered as
lions tore human beings apart.
But suddenly she furrowed her brow. She heard the knock on the office’s door.
“Come!”
It was Bane.
“They got Wayne” he said and Talia cocked an eyebrow sarcastic gesturing to the
screen.
“Thank you for the information…” she snarled.
“I told you he is useless…” Bane snorted; his eyes gleefully enjoying Bruce’s
frightened face.
Talia crossed her legs nonchalant.
“Obviously he is planning something.”
“Sure…” Bane snarled disbelievingly. “That clown got your slave, that’s the
only thing that matters. Do you want us to interfere and snatch Wayne? It’d be
easy in this chaos.”
Talia smiled.
“No” she shook her head. “I’m not in a hurry. I want to study more the way
Bruce thinks…”
Bane yanked his head.
“I doubt he does…”
The mistress of the Shadows however laughed amused with her warrior’s hatred.
“And bursting there right now would give the chance to Superman to intervene;
I’m sure he watches anxious to find the right moment to save his…beloved. Also,
Stark is on his way: our satellite has located him. A hasty operation now will
be disastrous for our plans; the chances of success are not enough and we’ll
reveal our presence and purposes. Let the…superheroes” her voice vibrated with
sarcasm “save the Prince – though I’m positive that the Prince works already a
plan to save everyone and himself.”
Bane snorted and frowned hearing Joker’s reciting.
“What is this rambling?”
Talia laughed amused.
“Shakespeare, ‘Romeo and Juliet’!” she lifted her eyebrows. “That clown is
really ridiculous!”
But then she saw the movement of Joker’s hand and her eyes widened.
“Damn!”
 
“Sir” Jarvis’ cool voice reached his ears. “Master Bruce is apprehended and led
to the atrium.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know!” Tony snapped to the AI and although
Jarvis didn’t have feelings he regretted exploding at ‘him’.
He was watching eagerly the footage from his surveillance of the atrium and his
navigation was entirely left to Jarvis who saved him from colliding with
planes.
“What the hell are you doing, buddy?!” he exclaimed seeing the blade leaving
Joker’s hand and activated the new super sound speed although it was dangerous
to use.
 
Bruce knew that the blade wasn’t for him; it headed to Bugs’ heart. Bruce could
catch the blade in the air yet that would be completely stupid so he pretended
to lose his balance causing thug’s slight tilting which resulted in the blade
just grazing his shoulder. Bugs Bunny ran away from Bruce scared.
“IIII didn’t say you. Could. TOUCH HIM!” Joker screamed and then narrowed his
eyes frowning; he never missed his target with the blade. “Huh!” he scratched
his hair. “It seems I’m tooooo thrilled too seeee you, little gem!” he gave
loudly the explanation to his inner question and shrugged.
The clown began trotting to him and Bruce retreated to the wall although he
felt the urge to surge against Joker and erase that smug smile from his face.
Joker suddenly raised his eyes to the glass roof, he scratched his head.
“Fancy that!” he laughed. “Hehehe! In-deed the envious moon hid…”
Bruce smirked inside; that served his plan perfectly. But now the madman was
inches away from him shaking his head and whistling.
“You are stuuuuning!” he shook his index. “You, you’re more beautiful than our
last meeeeeting…” he narrowed his eyes menacingly. “Don’t teeeell me you had
company in your bed laast night…” his voice became more nasal. “Be-cause I’ll
be very pissed…”
Bruce sank more to the wall shaking his head in denial with eyes widened in
fear. He tried to find refuge but the wall was hard and Joker’s body was
touching his making Bruce’s respiration quick from terror.
“No, no, no, sugar” Joker’s gloved hand caressed the younger man’s cheek. “No
‘sugar’…” he tilted his head “sugar is un-healthy. Honey. Don’t be afraid,
honey” his index was brushing slowly Bruce’s cheekbones and he blinked
uncomfortably a shiver running his spine. “You’re the only one who shouldn’t be
scared of me…”
Joker brought abruptly his lips to Bruce’s but he averted slightly his head
resulting in Joker kissing the wall. Clark chuckled but most people in the room
panicked for the frustrated clown’s reaction.
The clown closed his eyes and sighed.
“I gueeesss your lips aren’t so solid, cold and concrete tasting, huh?” he
looked pissed but amused at the same time. “I’m rushing things, huh?”
He took gently Bruce’s chin and turned him towards him causing the youth’s
gasp. Ra’s’ smug grey eyes replaced in a flash the clown’s green. Joker pulled
out of his lapel the plastic daisy and brought it to Bruce’s face.
“Deep inside I’m a veeeery tender man…”
Too deep… Bruce thought but jerked as the flower spurt water to his face.
“Ooooopsy daiiisy!” Joker shouted blushed and his goons laughed. “I knew I took
the wrong daisy…” he shook his head rolling his eyes. “At least is not the one
that spits acid…” he pouted. “Imaagine that…”
But Bruce was looking at the wounded man on the floor.
“Please” he whispered to the man pinning him to the wall. “This man is dying…”
“Aaaand I suuuu-pose you don’t want that…”
Bruce lowered his eyes shyly, gulped and shook his head.
“He needs hospital…”
Alfred understood why his young master returned choosing to be at Joker’s
hands; he heard the shot and decided that the only way to save human lives was
by cajoling Joker. Leslie realizing too shook her head pressing her lips.
Joker cupped Bruce’s face with both hands and yanked it gently.
“You care for him, huh?”
Bruce looked him in the eyes but only for a fleeting instant and then closed
his eyes nodding.
“I…I don’t like…killings…” he said hesitantly.
Bruce felt Joker’s rich lips grazing his eyelids.
“Soooo soft…”
Clark’s guts clenched and he gritted his teeth; that clown kissing his Star!
“You’re a traumatized boy, after alllll…” Joker said throatily removing his
lips allowing Bruce to open his eyes. “Ooookay, little gem” Bruce hardly held
back his fist from breaking Joker’s nose hearing that address. “I’ll let the
fella free.”
Bruce was suffocating with Joker’s hands cupping his face but didn’t move and
the clown’s face playing with Ra’s’; just looked at his captor’s eyes.
“He…can’t move…”
Joker turned his head to the wounded man and rubbed his forehead. He shook his
head affirmatively. He pointed at Rachel who cringed.
“You! I had you hostage laaaast time; it’s boring tto have you again. Take him
and goo!”
Rachel widened her eyes and so did the others; they didn’t expect from Joker to
accept but Rachel wouldn’t manage to carry the man’s burden although he was
barely conscious.
“She can’t do it alone…”
Joker snorted impatiently and his hand roamed to Bruce’s locks. Bruce expected
to have his head violently jerked backwards and saw Alfred’s eyes bulging. Yet
Joker just petted his hair as if he had a doll or a small animal.
“I doubt you’re soooo…mmm…demanding” Bruce shook his head in denial “with
Falcone; I guess you seeense I have a soft spot for you” Bruce raised a mental
eyebrow. “I suuupoooose you can have your gift beforehand.” Bruce frowned.
“Harv can go with them; he looks soooo heartbroken for the guy…” he giggled and
took Bruce’s hand leading him to the center of the atrium.
Harvey helped Alfred and Leslie to hoist his father and turned his pale face to
Joker.
“Choose someone else” he spat to him. “I won’t run letting people in danger!”
Joker shrugged.
“Nooooo problem” he pointed to a woman in the crowd and she hurried to assist
Rachel.
Bruce was following the two women’s slow progression towards the staff exit and
searched discreetly for Lucius Fox.
“You see, I’m not here to kill or…” he couldn’t find another word and shook his
head nonchalant “hurt anyone” Joker burbled. “I thought it all these days…” he
wrapped Bruce’s waist one armed “I was a bit…aaaah…hasty the ooother time” he
tilted his head “you have a nasty little history aaaand…” he winked “you
neeeeed someone patient, gent-le that will shooow to you that he really cares…”
Bruce was arranging things with Lucius through eyes but half hearing Joker’s
ramble he frowned. Clark was fuming, his eyes leaking death: he was the only
one who really cared about Bruce not this…freak.
“Aaaand I’m this man. You see” he yanked Bruce’s face towards his “my interest
it’s not only for youuuuur” he howled “body aaand face. Our con-nection is way
deeper than carnal; you see, you compleeete ME!” Bruce looked him with widened
eyes. “Soooo I’ll make our union perfect…” he giggled and brushed Bruce’s back.
The youth looked at him puzzled and frightened and Joker blinked cutely gazing
at the atrium jubilant.
“Hehehe! Aaaand the décor is perfect! Our minds are connected too, little
geeem!”
“What do you mean?” he whispered breathing difficult.
Joker gestured to a woman dragged inside by two goons and Bruce recognized
Judge Maria Vargas. Bruce’s eyes bulged but Joker beamed while fixing Bruce’s
lapels and Bruce felt Falcone’s plumb hands when he was inspecting his slave’s
attire.
“I’m a veeeeeery happy groom, baby! Whaaaat? You preferred a marriage in
church?”
Bruce gulped and shuddered.
“That’s…”
Joker fixed Bruce’s tie brushing with his finger the younger man’s neck.
“I know, I know…you’re toooo young, huh? Tooooo hurt to think about moving
ooooon but… daaaddy Joker will be here protecting you from the world and
healing your wounds. Aaaaand nobody will ever separate us.”
Bruce couldn’t believe this was happening; he was feeling his face blushing and
he wanted to punch that man. He was sensing everyone goggling at him,
especially Clark and of course he slipped his hand to his wristwatch and
pressing a button disabled all the cameras in the room. Lucius integrated that
small trick when Bruce explained to him that it could be handy in some
occasions.
 
Talia’s huge flat screen suddenly filled with snow.
“What now!” she shrieked.
She began watching calmly after Joker’s blade grazed his goon’s shoulder; Talia
immediately understood that Bruce’s scared stumble was to save the man’s live
and she was both smiling satisfied from his cunning and fuming because all this
skill was wasted into saving scum’s lives. But now this sudden cut in the
transmission…
GCN’s newscaster came into view acting sad and worried which was a laughable
effort for Talia who could compare that to Bruce’s superb acting. He announced
that the footage was abruptly cut for unknown reasons and that their reporters
outside the building were trying to figure out asking the police.
Talia waved her hand dismissingly and cocked an eyebrow.
“The police…As if those buffoons can answer anything” of course she couldn’t
attempt a call to Luthor. “I bet it’s Bruce’s job!”
 
Tony was trying everything to regain his access to the atrium. His surveillance
system was irrevocably out of order.
“Stupid fucking junk!” he burst, his heartbeat raising even more with anger. He
was scared because anything could have happened.
He tried getting access with several satellites beginning from his and ending
up to Google Earth but no satellite could gain access to the atrium. And that
made things clear for Tony.
“Bruce, you son… Lucius must show me that trick…”
 
Joker raised his hand to the band.
“You know what to play!”
The rifles that pointed at them were enough persuasion for the band’s members
who began playing the wedding tune. Joker pushed Bruce towards the Judge who
looked at the young man apologetically.
“Hmmm…” Joker scratched his nose. “You would want Stark as youuuur best man but
I think he’d have made everything to ruin that marriage soooo good ol’ Charlie
was kind enough to keep him busy.”
“Your friend?!” Bruce asked dumbfounded.
Joker smirked and tilted his head.
“I must send him a present…at jail… Weeeell, Tony-boy will have to accept it as
everyone else…aaand send his gift…” he purged his lips. “A second car like
yours will be sufficient… As for best man…We can have a best woman…”
He snapped his fingers and one of his goons grabbed Pepper from the arm and
brought her to him.
“Why noooot the lovely Miss Potts, huh? After all, she does everything for
Staaaark… Nice dress, doll!” he roamed with his eyes Pepper’s beautiful body
loosely hugged by a deep red silken dress. “Lady in red, huh? Well? You’ll
honor us?”
Pepper’s green eyes were flashed.
“Forget it, asshole!” she sank viciously her stiletto heel to the goon’s foot.
Joker rolled his eyes.
“Oooobstacles till the end!” he gritted his teeth and clenched violently
Bruce’s upper arm. “Maybe I should shot some people to pass the message?!” he
shouted and Bruce closed his eyes scared.
“Please, sir, no…” he whispered “we don’t need anyone…”
Joker brushed Bruce’s lips.
“Is thaaaat how you pleaded, then?” he asked with a low voice squinting his
eyes and Clark’s heart twisted in the memory of his old nightmare. Joker
giggled pouting his lips. “Uuuuuuh! You’re in a huuurryyyy for the first night,
little geeem, huh?” he winked.
The clown felt the youth shivering and caressed his hair.
“Calm down, baby, calm down;” Joker’s voice was mixed with Ra’s’ baritone the
first time the lion-like man had used him. “I know you’re not a virgin…” he
lolled his head backwards “Hey, everyone knows that! Buuuuut I promise I’ll be
geeeeentle…”
He gestured to the Judge to start.
“Just the gist, will you? The groom is anxious…”
The woman looked at Bruce’s panicked eyes and sighed with sympathy. Yet with so
many guns pointing at her she couldn’t do otherwise.
But Harvey stormed towards the clown.
“This can’t be done!” he burst out and Joker turned to him rolling his eyes.
“Our state doesn’t accept marriage between people of the same gender!”
Bruce would have laughed with Harvey’s attempt to use legal arguments yet the
situation wasn’t funny.
“I don’t give a damn about rules” Joker spat and turned to the Judge. “This is
symbolic!”
“Joker, police has surrounded the building” Jim’s reasonable voice intervened.
“This madness won’t have any validity; why doing it?”
Joker slapped his hands on his trousers and turned calmly to his goons.
“Kill ten people” he said nonchalant. “Maybe that way they’ll learn to keep
their mouth shut! And we didn’t even reach the ‘if anybody has any objection,
speak now’… Ugh!”
Bruce focused his eyes on Joker’s.
“Please don’t…” his face was pale; at any time Selina should alert him for
police’s presence and he didn’t want anyone dead by then.
Joker shook his index finger warningly.
“I’m doing tooooo much for you; and really isn’t my fault…”
“I know” Bruce said determined and looked at Jim and Harvey, stopping
reassuringly to Alfred’s sad eyes. “But from now on nobody will disrupt...I
promise.” He lowered his eyes. “Just…don’t kill anyone…”
Joker pursed his lips thoughtful.
“You’re really my weakness…” but all of a sudden he fisted his hair and jerked
his head backwards. “If anyone speaks again my blades will take action…”
He released Bruce who tried to find his breath, and turned to the Judge.
“Since we covered the ‘objection’ part, skip to the ‘I do’ thing. Aaaaand fast:
I’m excited” he winked “if you know what IIIIII mean…”
Judge Vargas swallowed hard and began steadying her voice.
"Joker, do you take Bruce to be your legal wedded spouse, to have and to hold
from this day forward?"
The clown giggled.
“I dooooooo!”
“Will you comfort him, honor him and keep him, in sickness and in health, in
sorrow and in joy, so long as you both shall live?"
“I will, I will… Your turn, little gem…”
Judge Vargas stared helplessly to Bruce and he slightly nodded.
"Bruce, do you take this … man, Joker, to be your husband, to have and to hold
from this day forward?"
Clark though he knew that this was only a travesty without any validity or
significance felt suffocating and ready to demolish the whole building but in
an instance he saw shocked the fleeting gaze of Bruce ordering him to wait.
“I do” he said with a slight tremor.
“Will you comfort him, honor him and keep …”
But Joker was restless.
“He will, he will! Now finish it…”
“Joker and Bruce, by the power invested in me, I now pronounce you married.”
“Wheeeeee!” Joker hopped. “I know, congratulations and… I finally I may kiss
the bride…”
He grabbed Bruce’s waist and back of the neck and in a rapid move he bent the
younger man and glued his lips on his, sucking and massaging with moans of
pleasure.
“Mmmmm…Baby… You taste like cinnamon…”
“Tell me you’re allergic to cinnamon…” Bruce huffed.
Joker tittered.
“Tragedy has comedy in it; I knew you had comedy in you! And soon you’ll have
also Joker in you! Hehehe… By the way… I loooooove cinnamon!” he captured again
Bruce’s lips.
Clark had had enough; Bruce’s eyes had ordered him to remain passive but that
was preposterous! He readied to spin into changing into Superman, secrecy be
damned.
But then Bruce felt his phone vibrating on Selina’s signal and he made a move
with his hand giving the okay to Lucius who immediately pressed the secret spot
on the wall switching off every light in the building.
Bruce bit Joker’s lips with all his rage for the farce he was forced to
undertake and slipped from his hug jolting towards the glass roof breaking it
with his bare hands thankful that clouds still hid the moon.
“Batman took my bride!” Joker yelled outraged.
As everyone in the room he thought that the vigilante was the one who turned
the lights off, took Bruce from his hug and now invaded the room through the
roof.
Yet Clark wearing Superman’s suit could see clearly Bruce already fighting
Joker’s thugs. A huge grin carved the Man of Steel’s face and realizing that he
wasn’t helping surged to the rest of the thugs; his enthusiasm fueling his
fists: he was fighting alongside with Bruce!
Bruce’s eyesight wasn’t superhuman as Superman’s but he was trained into
‘seeing’ in the dark like a cat. He saw his opponents even though they couldn’t
see him; he grabbed the rifle of one using it as support to jolt his legs to
kick in the neck the one storming to him from the back; the sudden stop of the
blood flow sending him to the floor unconscious. He gave an elbow to the jaw of
another who rushed there hearing the fuss and rotated the thug whose gun he was
holding towards the wall sweeping along in his rapid crush another one who was
just coming.
Like a hungry predator he scanned the spots where the thugs stood but the
uncover cops had already engaged in battle with those guarding them and
Superman with his speed and strength was cleaning the rest of the place. Bruce
noticed that although the hero had no problem taking out his opponents he was
weakened.
However he took courage from the fact that the antidote was almost ready and
jumped in the air diving into submerging his foot in the hand of a goon who
taking advantage of the dark was ready to shoot a police officer. The man’s
elbow gave a sickening crack yet Bruce grabbed his head and twisted knocking
him out.
Superman smirked realizing that his opponents didn’t know that they were
fighting with Superman and tried to hit him only to crack their fingers; Clark
grabbed the hand of the last who attempted that and punched him once throwing
him to slump at the wall. He grabbed the guns of two thugs and bent them using
the metal to launch the thugs to the wall while he blew two thugs to the
buffet.
Superman heard people storming the atrium and he saw uniformed police officers
sweep in exactly the moment a red and gold blur landed on four thugs at once
knocking them out with his iron fists and feet.
Clark was jubilant; it was over and his Star was safe. He just couldn’t see
Joker but maybe he fled.
Suddenly he felt a wave of power behind him and a thug with his gun collapsed
to the floor. Bruce was standing there with his fists still clenched.
“He was ready to shoot you…” his Star said hesitantly and Clark smiled.
“Bullets don’t harm me” he remarked but he caught with the corner of his eye a
panicked thug in the other edge of the room ready to fire at people and ran
there.
Bruce sighed; normally bullets couldn’t harm him but now he wasn’t sure.
Suddenly he caught with the corner of his eye light; it was Joker with a
flashlight, he grunted: how many things this purple jacket could contain! He
took cover in the shadows.
“Hoooooneyyyyy… wheeeere are you?”
Joker saw Alfred and Leslie having retreated to the buffet to not impede the
fight. His eyes flashed maniac.
“Daaaaadyyyyy, I’m hooooome!”
He jumped on Alfred and Bruce surged on Joker from the spot where the
flashlight didn’t light; he kicked the flashlight from his hand away, at the
same time sent him crushing at the buffet.
“And here’s Baaatsy!” Joker snarled. “You know I hate it when you do everything
in pitch black – especially when that includes snatching myyyyyy BABY!”
Joker didn’t receive a reply and thought that Batman left to save someone;
suddenly his eyes fell on a shadow running to Alfred; he couldn’t see that it
was Leslie but took a magnum bottle from the table and attacked the shadow
descending the bottle towards the head.
Bruce saw it and pretended to stumble in order to shove Leslie out of the way;
he didn’t know how well Joker’s eyes had adjusted to the dark by now and also
he knew that the clouds were moving revealing the moon. The bottle was so
rapidly descending that if he avoided it Leslie would be hit so he just changed
a bit his head’s angle to prevent the worst.
“So here you are, honey!” Joker’s eyes indeed had adjusted to the dark that now
was slightly moderated by the revealed moon; his nasal voice reached Bruce’s
ears along with a crushing weight that hit his head followed by excruciating
pain.
As his eyes were closing he saw the lights returning to the room but his legs
collapsed dragging his body along before someone grabbed him and everything
ceased to exist.
The room was aglow again and the cops who raid the place from the secret
passage had the thugs at gunpoint; most of them were unconscious and the rest
had their hands raised in surrender. People were clapping joyfully. Yet
Superman had frozen in his spot having heard the quiet huff of Bruce and then
the change of his heart rate and breath to unconsciousness.
“Aren’t we haaastyyyy?” Joker’s playful voice towered everything.
Alfred’s gasp was painful for Leslie to hear but she supported her long time
friend despite the fact that she was also distraught since she had witnessed
everything.
Joker was holding Bruce as a shield; the youth was unconscious like a doll in
the clown’s embrace. Joker’s one hand was wrapped around his neck supporting
Bruce’s head where a nasty looking crack from his temple to his jaw spurted
blood that had already painted his hair, ear, cheek and neck. That gloved hand
not only supported Bruce’s head but also was pressing a blade at Bruce’s
carotid while his other hand that held the youth’s waist kept another blade
that grazed his belly.
Superman and Ironman glared at him shocked. Unlike the others Clark knew that
his Star was alive and that his brain didn’t sustain a serious damage yet there
was a severe concussion.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk…” the clown said shaking his head disapprovingly. “Not only you
intrude my marriage destroying it, but also Batman tries to steal my darling;
of course he sneaked out! I can’t believe how bad people are!”
“Let Bruce free, you sonovabitch, before I blow you up!” Tony barked behind the
face plate and Ironman’s lenses pierced grimly and terrifying Joker’s face.
However Joker laughed driving Tony and Clark mad. Ironman raised his hand ready
to launch his low powered missiles; he didn’t want to blow the whole building
though frankly this was the last of his concerns. Yet Superman held Ironman’s
hand determined.
Joker’s giggles reached their peak.
“I…dooooon’t think soooo, Stark-y…” he sang. “You see if you make a firework of
meeeee the half of the blood and flesh will beeee Bru-cey’s… Oooooh, how
romantic! Together in life, together in death!”
Tony froze. Joker smirked at him and nuzzled the lengthy wound in Bruce’s head
licking the blood that smeared his lips. He closed his eyes in pleasure.
“UuuuuuH! Even his blood is delicious! I wish I was a vampire!”
Clark fumed; he couldn’t just stand and watch that monster molesting Bruce. He
was faster than anything in this planet and he could disarm that freak.
Yet as if Joker read his mind tightened his grip on the unconscious man and
pressed more the blades.
“Nah! Nah! Nah!” he shook his head playfully yet his eyes were pure malice. “I
know what you’re thinking, red-blue and kitsch! You think you’re fast enough
buuuuut I asssssure you that with blades I’m faster. Aaaaand there are twoooo
blades readyyyy to tear apart the sleeping beauty. Which do youuuu prefer?
Carotid or aorta?”
Superman grunted and fisted his powerful hands yet didn’t dare to move.
“If youuuu had an objection to our union you had the chance to say it; now hold
your peace and mouth shuuuut!”
“What bullshit is this?!” Ironman spat infuriated ignoring the ‘marriage’ that
took place.
“You don’t wanna know…” Superman mumbled, his eyes sending daggers to Joker
under his frown.
However Leslie pale but with flashed eyes made a step forwards.
“The injury is severe, Joker and his body is already broken…’’ she gulped. “So
if you care for him… he needs to go to a hospital.”
Jim rubbed his forehead.
“We’ll let you and your thugs go… just give us Mr. Wayne. You have my word!”
“Nobody will chase you” Harvey added calmly. “Just let him and take me if you
want a hostage.”
Joker brushed with the back of his thumb Bruce’s blood stained jaw.
“You people think that can put terms…” he gave a bark-like laughter. “Myyyy
little gem needs only the care of his husband. Now the newlyweds will leave
aaaand nobody will follow us unless you want Brucey’s gorgeous limbs scattered
in Gotham’s streets.” He moved his head to his battered thugs. “Boys, grab your
guns and our knocked out fellas and go!”
Nobody dared to make a motion as the thugs followed their boss’ order and began
leaving the room using the staff door.
Selina from her corner fumed; she could attack that bastard, she could beat him
to a pulp yet she was afraid that he would injure Bruce more. She gritted her
teeth drowning her frustrated shout but then she realized that Tony and
Superman were feeling the same.
Her eyes found Alfred; his hands hanged as if paralyzed to his sides. He was
watching numb the madman dragging Bruce along away; Bruce with a cracked head
that bled.
Joker’s creepy triumphant laughter echoed in the silent atrium as he retreated.
“I wish Batman hadn’t fled the scene only to see his defeated glare! But I
guessssss he is a sooore loserrrrrr! HAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Alfred’s eyes had petrified seeing Joker taking his young master away but re-
watching Chill and Falcone dragging an eight year old pale injured boy from the
Wayne Manor laughing reminding him that the boy was to die if he spoke to
anyone. And then a couple of years later when he saw again the boy moping that
cabaret’s floor humming the lullaby his mother sang to him.
Falcone had grabbed little Bruce then, pressed a gun to his pale temple and
ordered the butler to go to the Manor and never come back. The boy had blood
then too in his ragged dirty clothes and his skinny face yet his beautiful
sparkling eyes were glued to Alfred’s face desperate begging him to save him.
And Alfred was still seeing the same expression in his young master’s eyes
although his eyelids were covering them.
***** Chapter 43 *****
“Isn’t he a bit young for that?” Martha’s amused voice filled Thomas’ home
medical office.
Bruce, not older than five, raised his face to see his mom at the threshold
smiling and then laughing goodhearted with her son’s too serious and
concentrated expression. Bruce felt his face hot and realized that he was red
so he hastily turned his eyes at his dad who was bandaging the head of a
plastic human sized doll.
Thomas turned to Martha.
“Nobody is too young for first aids. And Bruce is a gifted child; he can learn
everything he wants” he shrugged serious but soon smiled infected by his wife’s
witty smile. “What?”
Martha strutted to the interior with her hands behind her back.
“Mr. Wayne, I think that you’re trying to push Bruce to be a doctor…” she sang.
“Push?” Thomas frowned blushing. “The boy is a natural talent…”
Martha now erupted in laughter seeing Bruce’s small hands tangled with the
bandages; yet Bruce couldn’t get angry with her because that sound was his
favorite.
Thomas huffed and helped his son free his hands.
“He’ll get the hang of it…”
“If only my hands were bigger…” the boy protested. “Why I must be so short?” he
whined.
Thomas ruffled the boy’s hair.
“You’re not short: you’re just too young” he smiled. “Tony is six years older
than you and your classmates are older too. You’re a bit shorter than your
peers but this will change” he winked. “I promise you, buddy; you’ll be like
your mom and dad.”
Bruce pouted; it sounded so distant…
But then two beloved hands grabbed his waist and hoisted him to hold him tight
in a sweet embrace. His mom’s lips were the softest thing in the world when she
kissed his cheek like this.
“Maybe I prefer you like this to fit in my hug…” she laughed tinkling his
belly. “My sweet baby will grow up to be a beautiful man” she submerged her
lips again to his cheek and Bruce giggled.
Thomas stood and embraced his wife, kissing Bruce too.
He didn’t learn that day to bandage open heads…maybe he did learn some other
time. But he couldn’t remember…And it was necessary. Now. With that throbbing
pain squeezing his brain.
He felt like his half head was squashed, something sticky covering the melted
area. But this was distant, very distant and he had only a vague idea as if
concerning someone else; the buzzing in his ear was impaling his brain to its
core to enhance the mist in which he was sunk. He could feel some things but he
didn’t know where each of them belonged. They were incoherent, without
connection and then blurred and blended.
Like his mom’s hand in his hair that changed to a strange hand. He didn’t want
to be touched by strangers yet he couldn’t move or decide if it was just a
dream or not.
His body changed position; he was laid on his stomach. Someone twirled him.
“If ya wanted to finish tha floor ya wouldna shake yar ass like that, ya slut!”
Chill was barking in his ear as he was rolled on the wooden table.
“I didn’t, sir” he gasped with his stomach crushed under the man’s weight.
“Please let me finish the floor…Signore Bruna will be mad at me…” he mumbled
desperately.
Only to feel his loose ragged pants pulled to his ankles and his buttocks being
grabbed and stretched causing his yell.
“First I’ll finish an’ then ya can finish tha floor…” the man chortled and his
opening was thrust violently.
He clenched his teeth, he shut his eyes, he grasped the edge of the table with
his one working hand but still cried out when Chill’s member pushed inside
stretching him unbearably. His body especially his skinny legs were trembling
from the pain and the force but the man kept him pinned to the wood. Chill’s
enormous hand covered his small mouth to shut him and began thrusting speeding
with every motion.
His muffled cries seemed to fuel Chill whose fingers brushed crudely Bruce’s
tearstained cheeks. He was breathing difficult because his chest was crushed on
the wood as his throat and his half closed nose couldn’t handle the burden of
his rasps alone…
“What are ya doin’, boss?” Mickey Mouse asked Joker.
He was one of the three goons Joker had with him in the van’s trailer. The
clown had Bruce’s torso on his lap from the moment they left the Center and now
rolled him over. He brought the unconscious man’s hands behind his back and
cuffed them with a pair of handcuffs he took from a box laid there.
Joker slowly raised his dark narrowed eyes to Mickey.
“Isn’t. It. OBVIOUS?!” he rolled his eyes.
“But he’s knocked out…”
Joker shook his head in disbelief.
“I heard he likes to be bouuuund!” he snapped and the goons laughed.
Yet Joker brushed the bite mark Bruce’s teeth left on his bottom lip; he
crooked a sly smile. His baby had fire. He dived his hand in Bruce’s jacket’s
pocket and pulled out his smartphone which was locked in an unusual way.
He wanted to search his baby’s secrets but he couldn’t open the gadget so there
was only one thing to do: he lay softly the young man’s body on the floor and
jumped to the door. Opened it slightly and threw the gadget to the street.
“Boss, we coulda sold it; we coulda made hundreds.”
Joker rolled his eyes and resumed his place pulling Bruce’s torso in his lap.
Idiots! Everyone knew that cells can give your location and thinking of Stark
surely he had installed something trickier. 
From far away he felt his hands being turned behind his back…
“I know it’s early” Ra’s’ baritone filled the training room. “But I wanted to
test you. Falcone ties you all the time, right?” he cocked an eyebrow because
Bruce’s surprise for his knowledge was obvious.
It was some months since the lion-like man began training him. And now he was
kneeled to the floor with his hands cuffed behind his back.
“He uses ropes and straps…” he whispered and Ra’s nodded.
“You’re not trained in escaping bonds but I’d like to see how you’d fare. Well,
child” he smiled smugly “do your best!”
His master’s eyes bulged when after two or three minutes the handcuffs fell to
the floor with a dull sound. He squatted in front of his student and grabbed
the hands Bruce kept behind his back.
“How?” he asked a bit harsh yet smiled immediately seeing the boy’s eyes
closing as he flinched. “It’s alright, child…”
“My bones are too thin…” he answered encouraged. “And there isn’t much meat
there so I just draw my fingers together like that…” he united his fingers.
Ra’s caressed the boy’s hands and pressed gently the knuckles together, ending
at the wrist. Indeed, the bones were too thin for a fourteen year old and the
flesh was almost transparent. He twisted his lips in disapproval.
“We must take care of your bones and body weight…” but then his seriousness
gave its place to loud laughter. “I’m an idiot, huh, child? Using handcuffs to
such bonny hands. We need to start with ropes and straps.”
He shuddered hearing that and lowered his eyes. Al Ghul patted him on the
shoulder.
“Falcone knows what to use to immobilize and pain you.”
His hands were painfully trapped behind his back, his newly healed arm
crucifying him. Bane twisted more viciously his wrists and forced him to kneel
and Bruce could hear his mean snort even behind the silken scarf.
“You are an absolute zero…” his trainer hissed in his ear. “You will never
achieve anything noble because you are a waste of space; a worthless worm!” his
voice leaked poison.
Bruce clenched his teeth as Bane tightened his grip and tried to control his
frantic rasps to not cause more jeering. But he gasped surprised when one hand
squeezed his buttock.
“This is your only value, the only reason Al Ghul took you in: your ass hole.
You exist only to be fucked… Is it already the time for you to get your fill of
your master’s dick?” he chortled. “He can fuck you till it kills you yet I
don’t understand his obsession to make a warrior out of a hooker! It’s apparent
that you won’t ever learn anything…”
He knew he could escape his bindings –he had learnt it - but his hands and
fingers – as a matter of fact anything – didn’t obey.
“You need to concentrate, young master Bruce” Alfred’s poised yet so comforting
voice addressed him.
The window of the drawing room was hit by rain drops; a monotonous rain that
began from the morning. Despite what Alfred said Bruce’s gaze darted all the
time to the glass seeing the Palisades washed by the rain; he saw his own
reflection. His face was too young and he had juicy cheeks and his lips were
really small.
“Focus, sir…” Alfred muffled his smile.
He turned his eyes to the small round table upon which lay the chessboard with
the pieces scattered in different spots.
“Why, Alfred?” he asked with something between a whine and a protest. “Tony
says that chess is stupid…”
Alfred raised an eyebrow to intensify his stern stare.
“Well, if Master Anthony says so, I gather that it is rather important to you.
But you liked playing chess, young master; so could I venture a guess and
assume that you miss your friend?”
He pouted his lips and nodded.
Alfred smiled.
“You have other friends too, Master Bruce. Thomas Elliot for instance.”
He shook his head in denial.
“He calls me names too when the others mock me…”
Alfred pressed his lips.
“That’s serious, sir… Maybe you should inform your father?”
The boy shook his head.
“Only Tony stopped them.”
Alfred frowned; he knew how much Tony loved his little friend and although
Alfred wanted for the jeering to stop he didn’t want things to get extreme.
“Did Tony…”
Bruce understood what Alfred feared and he shook his head.
“Tony didn’t hit anyone but they’re chickens and shit themselves when Tony told
them off…” he felt his face radiating remembering that but then he became
gloomy. “But Tony is big and I’m small and he likes things I can’t do. He told
me about the places he goes and he said that there are really fascinating
things not…chess. And I asked him to take me with him and he said that I’m too
young and small and I can’t go there…”
Alfred’s always collected eyes bulged for an instance but immediately he
smiled.
“I don’t think that even Master Anthony is old enough to go to these places; he
is twelve years old, he’s still a kid.”
“No! Tony isn’t a kid; he’s a cool dude!”
Alfred shook his forefinger disapprovingly.
“I don’t think that your parents would approve of so much slang in your
vocabulary.”
Bruce blushed.
“Isn’t bad, Alfred; Tony speaks like that and I like it. My friends here speak
polished but they mock me when I turn my back…Tony is good…But I’m so small and
I can’t do the things he does and he’ll get bored with me and he’ll forget
me…He lives so far…”
He ran to Alfred and hugged his waist dropping his head to the butler’s chest.
Alfred ruffled his locks.
“Master Anthony will never forget you; he’ll never cease to be your friend. He
loves you so much, sir…”
Bruce without letting Alfred’s waist raised his tearful eyes and looked him
with furrowed brows.
“Why are you calling me ‘sir’ or ‘young master’? I’m too small for so big names
and even when I grow up I’ll be only Bruce…”
Alfred smiled failing to keep his poised expression and Bruce reflected his
kind smile, revealing his missing teeth in a broad smile.
“Boss, he smiles” Pluto chuckled.
Joker had already seen it but that idiot shouldn’t have seen it. He rapidly
grabbed the magnum in his belt and shot the goon who cast him a confused gaze
before dying instantly.
“Kill the boy!” Falcone’s shriek hit his ears and his mother’s soft hands
pushed him from her hug to shove him behind her.
And then a nightmarish bang pained his ear and his bulged disbelieving eyes saw
her collapse to the filthy concrete where immediately a dark red smudge began
expanding fast to form a small puddle.
Her eyes were closed as if sleeping but he knew that she would never wake up
again…She was dead.
And then another shot and his father’s serious but always loving eyes found
him.
“Run, Bruce! Run!”
He wanted to respond but his legs were rooted there and didn’t obey him. He saw
as Falcone approached his father, put the gun point on his forehead and shot.
He wanted to scream yet he was numb, paralyzed…
“I. Doooon’t. Like. People. Staring at myyyyy BABY!” Joker howled and pushed
the body from the door at the street.
He surged to the young man who gave a quiet sob trembling at the trailer’s
floor. He sat and took again Bruce at his hands caressing his locks that in
places were glued together from the semi-dried blood.
“Huuuuush, baby…Daaaaddy is here.”
After a couple of minutes in shocked silence from the frightened minions the
van came to an abrupt halt in front of an alley.
Joker hoisted Bruce and jumped from the open door of the trailer that his goons
had opened. Of course there wasn’t a chance he’d give his prize to any of his
thugs even for a second.
“Ruuun like deemons now!” he yelled to the driver and he continued his race at
Gotham’s streets.
Joker dragged Bruce to the dark interior of the alley and to a parked car,
opened the passenger’s door and settled the young man to the seat. He fastened
Bruce’s seatbelt with special caution and hopped to the driver’s seat,
whistling. He started the car and sped out of the alley throwing out of the
open window the second cell-like object Bruce had.
 
Alfred was brushing the painting that Billy gave to Bruce; he had taken it to
the Rolls for safe keeping before the cut ribbon ceremony. Now he had placed it
on the fireplace’s mantel shelf in the grand salon of Wayne Manor. Bruce would
be very happy to see it on his returning.
His young master was very happy that evening; really happy because his parents’
dream came true, because children and adults in that god forsaken place was for
once jubilant and hopeful; because he had all his loved ones around him;
because his parents would be proud of him…
Alfred knew that Bruce couldn’t experience happiness like other people; he knew
that the youth’s heart and mind were constantly haunted by what these people
did to his body and soul all these year. But when Billy gave him the present, a
present the former homeless had created with his own hands, Alfred saw real
happiness in his young master’s eyes that peaked when Billy took him to his
friends: all that kids and young people the Heaven helped. Bruce’s eyes were
glowing with a glow he had not seen since Bruce was a child – a free child.
And then that madman ruined everything and took his boy away, wounded. He had
seen a couple of times Bruce wounded; too few in comparison to the abuse he
suffered in Falcone’s hands. But it was a shock seeing Bruce unconscious in a
dangerous man’s hands after he had freed himself.
He closed his eyes; where was now his boy? Exhaustion pained his bones. He bit
his lip remembering that he had scolded the youth because he ‘abused’ his
clothes… Bruce was for once carefree and he berated him for something petty as
his clothes… When he returned Alfred would never bother him again for such
nonsense…
“Bruce knows how much you love him and that you were teasing him” Leslie told
him as if reading his mind.
Alfred turned his head towards her. She couldn’t sit either waiting anxiously
for a call and Alfred was reminded of another night he hoped that he had
forgotten: when Thomas, Martha and he were waiting a call from little Bruce’s
kidnappers. It was the first time he was seeing Leslie so shaken and he
remembered what she had said to Joker.
“You said that Master Bruce’s body is broken… Did you hide something from me
concerning his health condition?”
Leslie felt awful for not being able to tell him the truth about the injury in
Bruce’s lower spine. That knowledge and the fear that Joker would force himself
on the young man aggravating the injury tormented her. And the blow to his head
looked rather ominous.
“His body is too stressed, Alfred to be…” she sighed “handled without caution”
she preferred a milder expression because only the thought of Bruce being again
abused in any way was for both of them terrifying. “And he has an injury on his
head…and he is on medication…”
Alfred nodded.
“It’s like those endless nights that I was waiting for him after he came to me.
He was using the caves to reach the Manor riding Miss Kyle’s bike.’’ He smiled.
“From the first time he visited me here I was waiting every night to see him
again and when he couldn’t come it was like Hell; disappointment and dread that
Falcone or that monster Al Ghul had discovered and punished him…But then after
a night or two I’d hear the discreet sound from the passage and I’d rush there
to hug him.” He rubbed his forehead and looked at Leslie. “You can’t imagine
that happiness, Leslie…”
She smiled and approached her long time friend rubbing his back.
“Soon you’ll feel that happiness again, Alfred.”
The butler chuckled bitterly.
“It’s a long time since I last hugged him: I had him with me every day and I
didn’t hug him…” he shook his head disbelievingly. “I preferred to berate him
for clothes or food or…”
Leslie cupped his face.
“I’m sure Bruce loved it when you berated him for anything. And, truth be told,
he needed to be scolded sometimes” she laughed. “You’ll hug him again, Alfred.”
She patted her friend’s shoulder; her guilt was overwhelming but she tried to
not show it. Alfred’s distress was more important. And his pain was her fault;
Bruce took that blow to save her from a lethal impact.
Tony swept in the grand salon of the manor through the open window drawing
immediately Alfred and Leslie’s stares. As soon as he landed revealed his face
which shocked Alfred; it was so gloom and morose that it could belong to anyone
else than Tony.
He cursed through his gritted teeth and threw on the wall the things he was
holding; Alfred rushed to take them but his face paled when he recognized the
black stripped tie Bruce wore, his young master’s smartphone, another cell-like
gadget he had seen Bruce taking with him and…That broke the man’s heart: the
wrist watch that belonged to Thomas Wayne.
Tony noticed Alfred’s shock and sighed regretful for his actions. He rubbed his
forehead.
“I’m sorry, Alfred…” he felt that he should add something yet he couldn’t
although there were so many things to apologize for: for leaving, for failing
to stop Joker from hitting and holding Bruce, for failing to find him.
“It’s fine, Master Anthony” the old man answered without managing to accompany
it with his usual grin.
Alfred picked up the objects Tony brought swallowing hard yet not asking. They
didn’t find his young master; unconsciously he tightened his hold on them, a
knot blocking painfully his throat.
Tony averted his gaze from the kind butler; he couldn’t stand the sight of his
mute pain. He walked hastily to the bar and served himself a full glass of
bourbon; he didn’t even deactivate his armor because he intended to leave
again.
However Leslie couldn’t bear the silence. She approached Tony and looked him in
the eyes.
“What happened?”
Tony gulped his booze without answering; he was angry, frustrated, a bitter
fire twirling inside him. He shook his head disbelieving.
“Isn’t it obvious, Leslie?” he snapped because the doctor kept looking at him
expectantly and took the bottle to refill his glass.
Yet Alfred took the bottle from his hand.
“Alcohol won’t help, sir” he said composed but caring.
Tony lolled his head and closed his eyes; it wasn’t Leslie’s or Alfred’s fault.
“The bastard suspected that I could locate Bruce from these objects and
scattered them around! Even the tie…I had secretly put a transmitter there…’’
he lowered his head. “The vans Joker and his goons used to flee the Center have
dispersed all over Gotham…Police hunts them but Bruce and Joker aren’t with
them.’’
Alfred patted his shoulder.
“You’ll find him, young master Anthony” he smiled for his sake despite his own
distress . “Master Bruce is the toughest…” his voice cracked. “Everything is
going to be fine.”
“I didn’t mean to stop searching but I needed to talk Superman into taking some
rest so I used the excuse of a council.”
Leslie looked around; she was extremely pale and her shirt was stained with
some blood from Petrou’s wound. However what stood out were Bruce’s blood blots
on her face.
“And where is he?” she inquired pressing her guilt to pretend her casual,
strong self.
She was the reason Bruce was hit and fell unconscious to Joker’s hands. He
could have easily avoided that bottle but if he did the bottle would have
killed her. The thought that if she hadn’t moved Bruce would have been there
content for Joker’s arrest made her sick.
“I suppose he’s coming” Tony spat obviously moody. “I’m not his babysitter!”
“Indeed you’re not!” Superman answered as moody as Tony swooping in. “I thought
we were going to discuss our tactic that’s why I came here stopping my search.
Hi, Alfred, Dr. Thompkins” he greeted them blushing for his rudeness. “You
fooled me, didn’t you, Stark?” he felt his blood getting hotter. “You don’t
want me around Bruce even if his life depends on it!”
Tony’s eyes widened almost maniac and Leslie touched his hand to calm him.
“You’re an idiot! I thanked you when you saved Bruce the other time so what you
say is utter bullshit! We really need to talk and also…” he inhaled “you’re
exhausted.”
Superman narrowed his eyes and brought his hands on the waist.
“I? Exhausted?” he chuckled. “Superman never gets exhausted” yet he lowered his
voice “I’m just a bit…”
Tony nodded and walked away from the bar.
“Tired” he completed what Superman didn’t want to admit.
Leslie and Alfred exchanged worried glances and the doctor moved towards the
hero. She had her worry for Bruce but she couldn’t stay indifferent to that,
especially since she knew the secret.
“I’m not an expert in alien physiology but I can examine you.”
He shook his head in the negative keeping his charming smile.
“It’s really nothing, Dr. Thompkins… I guess” he laughed “I was a bit shocked
seeing Bruce unconscious and bleeding. Stark is exaggerating.”
Tony glared at him under his furrowed brows.
“Yeah…Because I’m so fond of you…” he jibed at him.
Bruce was Tony’s main concern yet he owed to his friend to look after the
alien.
Alfred cast a berating look at Tony and he shrugged.
“To be honest” Clark said hesitantly. “From the moment I saw Bruce in that
state, I feel a bit weak…” he laughed. “But it’s only psychological.” Yet
despite the exhaustion he had sent to the Planethis correspondence while
looking for Bruce.
Leslie nodded.
“Still I think that you’d better rest and stop the search until you feel
better.”
Superman licked his lips.
“I’ll feel better only when Bruce is safely returned here” he said throaty and
Tony rolled his eyes exasperated.
Clark was almost panicked though he hid it well; he couldn’t sense his Star so
he couldn’t locate him. He didn’t even dare to form the thought of what might
have caused that.
“You can’t chase Joker” Tony raised his voice. “It’s obvious that he holds a
special kind of Kryptonite that causes you those symptoms.”
Clark couldn’t stand this any longer: speaking for him as he was the important
and not Bruce.
“The only special Joker holds is Bruce!” he snapped and Stark’s widened eyes
puzzled him.
Tony rubbed his goatee uncomfortably; Superman without knowing uttered the
truth: Bruce was that special kind of Kryptonite.
Yet Alfred had his own agony and also wanted to change the subject before the
two young men quarreled. And they didn’t need that.
“Sir” he addressed Superman. “Are you sure Master Bruce was…alive?”
Tony bit his lip sensing the man’s agony even though his voice was collected.
“He was alive, Alfred, just unconscious.”
“You scanned his head?” Leslie asked touching unconsciously the dried blood on
her face.
Superman nodded.
“He suffers a concussion…” he hesitated looking from Alfred to Leslie “a severe
one” he pressed his lips. “But there was no hematoma or swelling in his brain.”
Leslie nodded pressing her lips.
“This is comforting but he needs to be monitored…he needs medical attention.
Ugh!” she lowered her head. “It’s my fault!” she cried out not able to keep it
inside anymore.
Alfred whose eyes were almost tearful held Leslie’s upper arms.
“Don’t say that, Leslie…”
“If I had stayed in my corner Joker wouldn’t have attacked me and Bruce
wouldn’t have taken the blow for me. I’m sorry, Alfred…”
Tony shook his head.
“Don’t blame yourself, Leslie…” he was thinking his own guilt. “We all carry
our guilt” he lowered his eyes “but it won’t help. What matters now it’s
finding Bruce as soon as possible.”
“What about the police?” Alfred asked.
“They chase the vans but Joker and Bruce aren’t in any of them; the clown must
have changed car at some point. As soon as they arrest the thugs, maybe we
learn where he took Bruce. But I aspire to find that bozo before the police to
show him some things!”
Superman nodded.
“Exactly!” he raised his fist in the air and took off from the window.
Alfred turned to Tony.
“Maybe you should have told Superman the truth?”
“I told him that Joker has a special kind of kryptonite and he didn’t believe
me” he raised his eyebrows. “And Lucius is at his lab fixing the last details
to his antidote while Pepper handles the mess…”
“Where’s Miss Kyle?” Alfred asked just before Tony lowering the face plate.
Tony shook his head.
“I don’t know; she must have left the Center before any of us. I guess she uses
her own ways to find Bruce…”
He covered his face and took off.
Alfred stared at the wrist watch and caressed it absent minded. Leslie closed
her eyes and brushed her friend’s hand. Alfred raised his eyes to her.
“They’ll find him, Alfred…”
 
Jim Gordon was in the police car Renee Montoya drove. Their car was the head of
a team chasing one of the vans Joker and his goons had used to flee the Center.
The vans had scattered to different directions in the city obviously aiming to
divide the police force and confuse them.
Yet Jim had given strict orders to not lose any of the vehicles following the
directions Tony Stark’s monitoring system was constantly feeding them.
He had left to Harvey Dent the official briefing of the press though he knew
that most of the reporters had witnessed the facts being at the atrium or
learnt everything from the guests. He touched the big cut in his cheek Joker
had given him; it stopped bleeding. Barbara had taken the kids to the house;
thankfully, the children partying at the Hostel didn’t understand anything.
He noticed Montoya glancing at him many times.
“Commissionaire, I think you should stitch that” she said.
Jim shook his head.
“It stopped bleeding and” he smirked “I don’t care for the aesthetics…”
“You need some rest, Jim.”
His eyes were focused in front of him and his reflection was returning the
gaze. He was indeed pale and his hair was messy while some bags began gathering
under his eyes. However Jim knew that all these weren’t from tiredness.
“Joker has Wayne; the boy just got free from a cruel abuser” he raised his
eyebrows “he struggles to overcome the past trauma and trauma is what awaits
him if we don’t find him fast. And tonight that boy saved our lives.”
“I thought Batman, Superman and Ironman did it along with us.”
Jim turned his head to her.
“If Wayne wasn’t there Joker would have killed many people before anyone
reached the place. The boy handled him into not killing anyone.”
Montoya smiled.
“Is that possible?”
Jim nodded.
“Tonight I witnessed it. Wayne saved us all and we let Joker take him; I don’t
want even to consider what that madman could be doing to him…” he shook his
head pressing his lips. “I can’t rest till we find the young man and take him
to a hospital, and to his people.”
Montoya turned to him with a witty expression and smiled.
“Am I right to say that you too believe that he is more than we thought?”
Jim stared at her and tilted his head slightly.
“I think that Mr. Wayne deserves our respect. And our every effort to save him
from Joker.”
The young woman nodded determined.
“Commissionaire, look!”
One of the vans they were following made a frantic turn on the crossroad and
headed towards them trying to escape the other police cars that chased it.
Montoya gritted her teeth and kept her foot on the accelerator facing the fast
approaching van. She could see the driver’s ashen face as the police car
approached them without decreasing its speed.
Jim grabbed the handhold but otherwise he watched completely unfazed.
“Gotcha, bastard!” Montoya exclaimed triumphantly when the thug turned abruptly
the wheel to evade the collision crushing on a traffic light.
Gordon rapidly snatched his gun and jumped out of the car rushing to the van
where more cops from his squad dashed. The police commissionaire opened the
back doors and several police guns pointed the goons who just raised their
hands in surrender while other cops disarmed the driver.
Jim looked frantic at the trailer and cursed frustrated. Althoug Stark’s
tracing system had already shown that Bruce wasn’t in any of the vans he still
hoped that maybe the system made some misinterpretation.
“Get out!” he yelled to the goons and his officers hurried to arrest them.
But Jim got inside searching with his small flashlight. Something caught his
attention and kneeled looking closely.
“What is it, Commissionaire?” Montoya asked kneeling beside him.
Jim touched the floor and showed his fingers to Montoya.
“Blood.”
“They had Wayne here.”
But Montoya noticed more blood opposite that spot.
“A second one bleeding?” she raised her eyebrow.
Jim shook his head.
“None of the goons we arrested was injured. Maybe Joker killed someone.”
He rose.
“Come on” he said sternly “those scumbags have many things to say.”
The young woman smirked jumping to the street after her superior.
“Maybe we should let Stark do the interrogation? I’m sure he’d be
very…persuasive.”
Jim stopped abruptly.
“Both he and Superman are scourging the city. And” he scolded at her
“interrogation is police’s job.” But then he raised his eyebrows. “Besides I
doubt Joker told them where he’d take Wayne.”
 
“We had a hostage situation. A security employee of the Wayne Enterprises was
injured but the doctors informed us that he was operated and now is out of
danger.”
Harvey looked at himself in the small TV screen on the nurses’ station at
Gotham General Hospital. He had arranged the emergencies as the press briefing
and now finally he was able to learn firsthand about his father’s condition and
maybe see him.
“Mr. Bruce Wayne was abducted by Joker yet the entire GCPD with the assistance
of Ironman and Superman pursue the man making it certain that soon Mr. Wayne
will be with us again.”
“Can you guarantee that you will manage to get Bruce Wayne back? Unharmed?”
What a sly question! Even now Harvey felt enraged yet he had kept his cool.
“I can guarantee that we’ll make everything possible and impossible to reassure
that.”
“Batman was there too?”
“I can’t answer that; everything happened in the dark. Yet I want to express my
gratitude to Superman, Ironman and of course the brave men and women of the
GCPD and SWAT who managed to cease the situation without further casualties.”
“Yeah…” someone said sarcastic. “Three superheroes and a unit of cops and SWATs
and still Joker and his goons escaped taking Wayne with them.”
Harvey clutched the podium and focused his stare on the smartass.
“Keeping Mr. Wayne alive was and is our priority” his eyes became steely “but I
assure you that Joker will face justice for his deeds.”
“The guests say that a…marriage between Joker and Bruce Wayne took place
conducted by Judge Vargas who is treated in the hospital right now.”
“Joker is insane” Harvey answered.
“They also say that Wayne somehow made Joker not kill anyone…”
And saved my father’s life; he had thought…
“Indeed” he nodded. “I can say that many people tonight owe their lives to Mr.
Wayne.”
“Is this why the Wayne Enterprises’ shares make a rally at the Asian Markets
despite their President’s kidnap?”
He had shaken his head and raised his hands.
“This is a question for the Enterprises’ representatives.”
He was perfectly collected during the brief although he was in an emotional
turmoil. His father had saved him; the man he had yelled at and shut the door
to his face didn’t hesitate to make his body a shield for him. He was an
ungrateful, bad son who didn’t want to reveal that this great man was his
father.
“Is it true that the man who was shot protected you?”
“Yes.”
“Witnesses say that you were very touched and distraught to tears…’’
Some laughed and Harvey stretched his posture.
“Someone must be emotionally dead to not be touched by such a deed of self
sacrifice.”
And you’re almost that…He rebuked himself and asked the nurse about Steve
Petrou; she told him that his room was at the end of the corridor but the
doctors didn’t allow any visit.
He dragged his steps there with his heart heavy. Yet the sight in front of him
brought a smile. Rachel still dressed in her evening dress was sitting outside
the room with a foam cup of coffee in her hand.
He hastened his pace and Rachel saw him and stood. He took her hand and kissed
it.
“You stayed?” he asked her pressing his lips.
She nodded.
“Of course. The man got shot to save you; I wanted to be sure he’ll be alright.
And…” she lowered her eyes “he doesn’t have anyone…”
Harvey bit his lips and Rachel noticed but didn’t say anything. She brushed his
upper arms.
“Are you alright?” he nodded. “I heard that Joker took Bruce…”
“Yes, unfortunately” he sighed. “But we’ll find him and Joker will take what he
deserves.”
“I doubt that…” she twisted her lips.
A doctor came out of the room and looked at them puzzled.
“Mr. Dent?” the doctor asked.
Harvey clenched his waist and nodded.
“How is he, doctor?” and taking in the doctor’s hesitation “he saved my life;
the bullet he took was for me.”
The doctor gave a slight nod.
“We operated him to remove the bullet; he is a tough man” he smiled “We didn’t
have any implications and his condition is stable; of course he lost blood and
we monitor him.”
Harvey couldn’t hide his relief and joy although he pressed his lips to cover
his smile.
“Thank you, doctor…” he rubbed his forehead. “I’ll cover the expenses…”
The doctor smiled and patted his upper arm.
“That is already covered by Wayne Enterprises.”
“Can I see him?” he inquired hopefully.
“He is sedated right now; visits at this stage are permitted only to family
members.”
The doctor moved to leave and Harvey lowered his head but immediately jerked
and grabbed the doctor’s arm.
“I’m family” he said determinedly. “I’m his son.”
Rachel stayed agape, her eyes widened in shock.
The doctor grinned and patted Harvey’s upper arm reassuringly.
“Your secret is safe, Mr. Dent. You can see your father.”
Harvey looked at Rachel and she nodded smiling.
“Go…” she whispered.
 
Luthor entered Talia’s office guided by Bane. The tycoon from Metropolis had
the same smug expression as always laced with abundance of irritation; he was
tired after the attraction during the reception and the statement he was
obliged to give to the police but the most annoying was the way that woman
ordered him to come at her lair.
He found her standing in front of the window watching with her hands behind her
back the battlefield. Actually there was only Gotham but the way she was
standing reminded him of a general inspecting the battle from afar.
“Sit” she said briskly and frankly Luthor was pissed.
But since he was smart enough to not enrage the one with the upper hand right
now he obeyed. At least she had the decency not letting him wait, Luthor
thought raising his eyebrow as Talia left the window and took her seat behind
the desk.
“Tell me what happened after the cameras were ‘magically’ shut off.”
Luthor knew that from the police but he thought that Talia had watched through
his satellite.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t thought of my satellite…” he snorted.
Talia pierced him with her black eyes, impatience written all over her face.
“Satellites were blocked from getting any visual or other information. Fancy
that…” she cocked an eyebrow.
Luthor was curious about how that happened yet he understood that now wasn’t
the right moment to ask.
“Joker had brought a Judge and made a travesty of a wedding with Wayne. Then
the lights suddenly went off, Batman stormed, fights began in the dark and when
the lights returned in the atrium were Superman, Ironman and police officers
with uniforms. Yet Joker had Wayne in front of him as a shield, unconscious and
bleeding from a crack in his head and of course Joker escaped with his goons
and our prize” he recounted fast and bored.
“Our prize?” Talia’s eyes were predatory and eventhough her voice was low yet
Luthor felt the poison.
He waved his hands in the air.
“I’ll be allowed to have my way with him before you take him forever, right?”
he answered exasperated. “That was the deal.”
Talia tilted her head to the side and smiled yet Luthor felt his blood
freezing.
“Of course” she nodded.
Luthor shook his head chuckling.
“I feel like an idiot…”
Talia yanked her head and knitted her fingers on the desk.
“Like-an-idiot?” she said dryly widening her shining eyes. “You could have
skipped the like.”
Luthor pursed his lips and gazed at her from narrowed eyes.
“Your humor is ill tasted!”
Talia shrugged.
“Only for those who miss the intelligence to appreciate it…” Bane snorted. “So”
she smirked “why you’re feeling LIKE an idiot?”
“For believing even for a fleeting moment that this weepy, weak thing can be
Batman.”
Luthor laughed yet Talia was studying him.
“The fact is” he sobered “that that loony ruined our plans: I was really
looking forward for that dinner at my suite.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“And why are our plans ruined?” her question was filled with genuine
puzzlement.
“Apparently you have already sent a squadron of assassins to find Joker and
take Wayne for you; it’s ideal! They’ll find Joker, they won’t find Wayne so
they’ll assume that the madman killed him and dissipated the body – so nobody
will suspect you or search for the missing Prince” he purged his lips
thoughtful “It won’t be the first time for him.”
Talia rose and walked towards him slowly and arrogantly.
“Is this your plan?” she asked him brushing her desk.
Luthor frowned.
“Isn’t yours? That clown gave you a great opportunity and…”
Talia stopped looking at the glistening surface of her desk and looked at him
almost pitying him.
“This is not my plan” she stressed each word. “Everything will follow the
initial plan.
Luthor was ready to utter his protest.
“Joker just caused a slight delay but that’s all. Soon they’ll find him and
Bruce.”
The billionaire shook his head in disbelief.
“How can you be so sure?”
Talia smirked; because Bruce could escape Joker and even if he was somehow
incapacitated there was Superman whose body was tuned to the human’s so it was
a matter of time to locate him – she had witnessed that. And there was Stark
and his creative genius that certainly had equipped him with some incredible
tracking system.
“If we took Bruce right now everyone’s efforts would be focused on finding us;
and they would have found us because every surveillance system is programmed to
find Wayne. A squadron, as you said, of assassins even highly trained roaming
the city would immediately caught their attention. You see, Gotham isn’t run
anymore by Falcone; it’s temporary but Gordon and Dent aren’t corrupt and won’t
be settled with a disappeared body. If I rush to grab my prize before
everything is perfectly timed and executed, Bruce will evade me and I’ll fail.”
She leaned to him. “And unlike you I never fail.”
Luthor grimaced and huffed.
“You can’t be sure that they would have found us…” he preferred to not protest
for that insult with that giant behind him. The truth was that he’d liked to
hit right now because that way he wouldn’t be associated with all this.
“Frankly, I didn’t have you for so timid…”
Talia yanked her head and gave a hearty laughter.
“Timid? That’s really nice, Lex. Timid because I want everything being perfect
so that you won’t be accused for anything?’’ it was quite the opposite; Talia
wanted Luthor to pay for his betrayal when he attempted to kill Superman behind
her back.
Luthor smirked.
“If you operate now how can I be associated with you?”
“Stark has a grudge against you; he believes that you want to take revenge for
your humiliation at the party. Not to mention your old time rivalry with
Superman. If a bunch of assassins kidnap their beloved boy you think that they
won’t search you and your shady deals with terroristic groups?”
Luthor nodded and Talia smirked.
“It will be the same if we follow your plan.” He grunted.
Talia returned slowly to her seat.
“No; because you’ll have proved your good intentions in the meantime.”
Luthor frowned.
“How?”
Talia stretched on her seat and crossed her legs.
“By letting Stark use your satellite to find Bruce.”
Luthor jerked to the back of his armchair shaking his head in denial.
“No fucking way I’ll give access to that dork…”
“To your meteo satellite not the secret one you use to your not so legal
activities.”
He licked his lips; that woman knew too much and he didn’t like it.
“Also, if we hurried to make our move now” she said serious “we would have to
face the Avengers as well.”
Luthor’s eyebrows jerked violently.
“I thought that Fury was kicked out of Gotham!”
“Stark was baited into leaving the party to stop a hostage situation in LA.
That’s why he was absent when Joker crushed the reception.”
“Yes, but he came back.”
She nodded.
“Exactly. Fury sent Captain America to catch Stark midflight to assure him that
he’ll settle the matter in order for him to help Bruce.” She took in Bane’s
surprise.
Luthor’s eyes widened.
“So Fury has a crush on the kid too!” he chuckled. “If Falcone had whored Wayne
he’d have gotten more than he got from guns and drugs smuggling! When you catch
him let me do some tests to him to find out the reason he has so much appeal to
people.”
That was out of question for Talia.
“I don’t believe that Fury’s interest on him is of that kind. But I don’t want
the Avengers meddling in my business.”
Luthor laughed amused.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of them?”
She cast him a serious steely gaze.
“I’m not afraid of anyone. I have my own reasons which aren’t of your
concern.’’
The billionaire shrugged. Indeed, he just wanted what was promised to him and
of course he had taken his precautions.
 
The car turned frantically into an alley that was already shadowy even though
the night hadn’t fallen yet. He knew that alley too well; he shuddered and
frowned: why he was brought here?
The door to his side opened and a violent hand grabbed his upper arm, dragged
him out and threw him to the wall. He moaned and tried to distance himself from
the wall but a body pinned him there cutting his breath.
It was a huge body and he must be small because a head loomed over his. Bruce
raised shyly his eyes and it was shocked to see Chill. Chill was dead, right?
But no, Chill must be still alive because he was no more than fifteen; he
remembered that scene.
“Master Falcone will be waiting…” he mumbled; it was after his training with
Ra’s: Chill had come to escort him back. “Why you brought me here?”
“To remind ya I’m yar first; ya belong to me!” he growled. “From that night in
this ver’ place…”
He pulled abruptly down Bruce’s gym pants and underwear and put his middle
finger harshly in his opening. He cried out.
Chill fisted Bruce’s jaw and yanked his head upwards.
“I knew tha trainin’ thin’ was bullshit; tha ol’ fool just fucks ya…” he roared
like a beast and stretched Bruce’s hands upwards holding his wrists with one
hand while his other hand raised Bruce’s T-shirt.
Chill mouthed Bruce’s pectoral that Ra’s said that was forming beautifully and
bit his nipple moaning satisfied.
“I lik’ how yar boobs shapin’…” he turned him to face the wall.
He closed his eyes gulping as the Vulture spread him.
“Not here” he whispered “not here, please…”
But the man snorted and pushed his erection in his opening that was still
irritated by Ra’s’ use. Chill spread more Bruce’s thighs till his length was
forced inside Bruce sobbing weakly; the huge man began thrusting.
“Her’…her’ to remember who claimed ya first when ya’re just a skinny filthy kid
without shaped boobs…”
Yet despite Chill’s grunts accompanying his punishing thrusts Bruce could only
hear his mother’s heartbeat when she hugged him in this same alley and his
father’s call to run… He could hear only their blood slowly slithering in the
same dirty concrete he was standing right now…
He felt a throbbing pain in his torso as Chill grabbed again his wrists and
stretched them over his head but what was unbearable was the increasing
drumming inside his head which began from the side of his face. Someone was
caressing his face and he could say that he wasn’t Chill and that his hands
were tied and not just held.
“He cries in his sleep yeeeet he pleads for other people” a nasal voice
breathed in his ear that was throbbing with pain. “Fa-lcone said that his eyes
are even more beautiful when tearful yet I muuuust make that goooorgeous thing
happy – his smiiile is veery beautiful.” Joker cupped Bruce’s chin and smiled
seeing his eyelids slowly moving. “I think that our honeymooooon begins!” 
***** Chapter 44 *****
The first time Bruce’s eyes opened he shut them immediately; it felt like a
spear pierced his skull from his left side. He moaned but the pain didn’t
subside even though he had his eyes closed.
A hand grabbed his chin and yanked his head.
“Nah, nah, nah, sleeping beauty. Youuuur Prince is here! Now open your eyes.”
His eyelids flapped hesitantly and rose to expose his eyes to a thick mist
covering things that were duplicated every time he was close to clear the fog.
But the worst thing was the shadow inside his head that thwarted him from
forming thoughts. The only clear thing in his world was the face in front of
him; the white face of a grotesque clown with green acid eyes painted black,
ruby red lips and a Cheshire smile made from harsh stitches formed with thick
thread.
Somehow this white face made everything clear although the mist didn’t leave
his eyes. He realized that the pain over his torso and hands was due to the
fact he was bound; his wrists were tied one upon another above his head and
held his body upright while his ankles were bound around a hard mass. A mass
icy cold and solid freezing and hurting his pinned back. He was on his knees
and the stone floor pierced his kneecaps. So familiar…
The realization hit him abruptly and he convulsed on the stone where he was
tied; yet he knew that it wasn’t a stone. He might not be able to discern
clearly but he had been bound to this so many times that just the feeling let
him know that it was the stalactite in his cage at Dolcetto. It wasn’t right
but panic flooded his aching head and tears run from his eyes without his will.
“Hush, baby, hush” the nasal voice tried to sound comforting yet for Bruce only
the straps that hurt his wrists and ankles counted. “Dooon’t be afraid, Joker
is here…”
A gloved hand cupped his unharmed cheek and a wet breath filled his vision with
red.
“Mesmerizing…really…Falcone was right…”
The red attacked his eyes and soft flesh tasted his tears and then his
eyelashes that fought to protect his eyeballs. The gloved hand brushed his
locks and Joker distanced letting him breathe although his lungs gave just
gasps.
Joker looked him lolling his head on the side to match the way Bruce’s head
favored his injured side. He took a bottle of water, uncorked it, pulled his
glove off and wet his finger. He brushed Bruce’s dried lips with his wet finger
and the younger man licked his lips.
“Thirsty, huh?” Joker asked interested. “I don’t want you dehydrated…”
He placed gently the bottle on Bruce’s mouth and he drank desperately sending
some water over his neck. Joker’s eyes watched as the water slid on the
stretched neck and then to the slightly unbuttoned shirt; he licked his lips
and removed the bottle grabbing Bruce’s head that tried to follow the water.
“Eaaaaasy, babe…You’re gonna throw up…”
Bruce looked at him his eyes managing finally to focus despite the golden spots
dancing around. Actually nausea was already there and worsening with every
throb of pain in his head.
Joker furrowed his brows.
“Youuuu know…we are married…” he grasped Bruce’s hair and glued his lips on the
young man’s sucking and pushing his tongue inside the hot cavity to explore.
Bruce closed his eyes; the pain, the constant drumming, the twirling
surroundings, the cut of the air supply, the taste of paint and sexual demand
in his mouth redoubled his nausea; he wanted to escape but his head weighted a
ton and his body was unwilling to follow a weak order so he sobbed and just
tried to bite the intruder.
But Joker removed his mouth immediately laughing.
“Noooot a kitten buuuut a tiger! I knew it! The first chuck of Joker you took
wasn’t enough, huh?”
Bruce couldn’t hold it any longer; his head dropped to the side and he threw up
the few things his stomach contained.
Joker scratched his head.
“Hmmm… I guess this isn’t a compliment…”
He took a paper tissue from his vest’s pocket and wiped Bruce’s mouth. The
younger man tried to evade him and Joker tightened his hold on his chin.
“I knoooow that marriages face some crisis at some point but it’s tooooo early,
babe. Now: doooon’t you ever again dare to vomit after my kisses!”
He slapped Bruce so violently that his head crushed on the stalactite and slid
downwards. Thankfully the new hit was on his uninjured side not that this was
much comfort… He was used to the metallic taste of blood and having his lips
busted but strangely this blow hurt more than it should…as if the one hit
wasn’t the adult Bruce but the untrained and frail little Bruce.
Joker sighed; took another paper tissue from his pocket and wiped the blood
from Bruce’s lip. The youth stilled his eyes on the painted face.
“I dooon’t want to abuse you, Brucey” he giggled “that would be booooring for
you and not so original, huh? Buuuut you left me no option with your deeds… No,
it wasn’t the bite on our first kiss: whoaaaaa! I looooved that, babe!” he
became dead serious in an instant. “Buuuut you tried to leave me…’’
Bruce was struggling to take in Joker’s rant, blinking constantly to remove the
mist and the spots from his eyes.
“I didn’t…”
Joker nodded erratically.
“Yep, yep, yeeeep! Batsy snatched you yet this isn’t an excuse…” his finger
spread the new blood on Bruce’s lips. “The blood looks nice on you…” he dragged
his words and suddenly yanked Bruce’s head backwards bringing his eyes right in
front of his captive’s. “You wouldn’t have come back to meeee…” his voice was
low and dangerous and Bruce tried to jerk away only for Joker to tighten his
grip on his hair. “Youuuu believe me a bad person like Falcone and you detest
me; but I’m the oooonly one for you…the only one that really careeees…”
His lips grazed Bruce’s cheek and although he shuddered disgusted he couldn’t
escape Joker’s grip. Bruce could escape his bonds yet he had to clear first the
haze from his mind; he had to concentrate but he hardly could focus on what his
captor was saying. And also he knew that he shouldn’t show to Joker his true
skills; he must wait not only for his brain to work properly but also for a
moment when Joker wouldn’t be absorbed in him.
“If you care for me…” he huffed “untie me and let me go home…” being the
fragile, weak Bruce was safer for now and honestly he wasn’t feeling any
differently right now.
Joker nuzzled Bruce’s neck grunting satisfied and began sucking the flesh at
the jugular where Bruce’s pulse made his scent stronger. Bruce trembled and
with a wave of panic felt his right arm sending throbbing pangs: both arms were
protesting due to the stretching yet his right arm was behaving as if it wasn’t
healed twelve years ago. His heart began beating fast and that made his
headache worse and along the nausea.
“Sooooo soft…” Joker mumbled “sooooo deliciously smelling… Your home is where
your heart is, baaaabe and your heart should be with me… That’s the reason I
brought you here: this is your true home not that Manor; youuuu spent your
whoooole life here… Your soul is still he - re.”
Bruce felt the humidity and hotness of Joker’s full lips nibbling the crook of
his neck and this was unbearable for his flapping heart and his nauseating
stomach.
“Please…stop…I’m going to be sick again…”
Bruce didn’t expect it yet Joker gave a playful sigh, patted the younger man’s
neck and raised his head.
“You’re good at that, huh, Bru - cey?’’
Bruce raised his head breathing hard and looked at Joker puzzled.
“In what?” his voice was unrecognizably low.
Joker patted softly the youth’s heart and stood.
“Calm down, babe…After all you’re used to being fucked in this place…” he
cocked an eyebrow.
Bruce moaned and bit his lip; a vicious spasm pierced his head to the core of
his brain. He clenched his hands only to have his right arm scream in pain.
“I’m sure…” Joker said cunningly “that Chill was fucking you too. He was
manhandling you every - where” he smirked. “I’m sure he couldn’t or didn’t care
to resist the temptation of fucking the boss’ pet.”
Bruce tried to control his uneven breaths as Joker’s towering form changed into
Chill who sniggered at his tied body. He convulsed in the ropes but he only
managed to enhance the pain at his stretched body. He was shivering
uncontrollably.
Joker pouted his lips and shook his head disapprovingly.
“It must have been quiiiiite painful judging from your reaction… Of course: his
huuuge dick in your delicate little asshole… Ouch - y! I bet he tied you
exactly as I did.”
He tittered and his gaze wandered the small cell. His eyebrows were furrowed in
deep thought. Bruce tried to exploit the moments of silence to force a
meditation technique to his exploding mind.
“How can a child survive in a place like this? Huh?” Joker asked serious
brushing his lips.
When he didn’t take an answer he squatted abruptly in front of Bruce and cupped
his chin.
“I’m taaaalking to you, honey! How did you last sooooo long? I mean look at
this…cell: it’s a cave, freezing cold, humid, filled with bats’ droppings –
these flying rodents are very dangerous” he said matter-of-factly and lolled
his head “especially when they are above 6 feet tall, like our mutual friend.
Hihihihi! Tell me, Brucey: doooo you fancy Batsy? Is that why you dropped your
husband right after the oaths?” he pursed his lips. “I’m an understanding man
you know…” he shook his head. “I can fix a trio with the big guy…” he winked
“What do you say?”
Bruce had managed to control somewhat the paralyzing pain in his head and was
very pleased to hear that Joker didn’t suspect who Batman was.
Joker brushed Bruce’s stretched ribs causing a jerk from the young man.
“Nah…” the clown tilted his head on the side. “A trio would be too much for
you; you’re still too frail, too scared…”
He looked at him frowning.
“Buuuut at the same time you’re brave, huh?” he tipped Bruce’s nose. “You’re a
fascinating specimen, Bru-cey: frail and brave. I know that you act” he pouted
“yet I doooon’t know which of the two is the act…”
Bruce raised his head; he couldn’t feel his fingers from the block in the blood
circulation yet he made the small moves Ra’s had taught him to recover
somewhat.
“I’m not brave…” he whispered and his voice shook.
Joker shook his head with his lips pursed.
“You’re sooooo good at that, dar - ling. Denying your bravery, manipulating
others…As you did with me at the party” he gave a Cheshire smile to Bruce’s
widened eyes. “Manipulating me to noooot kill people…What? You thought that I
didn’t understand?”
“I was…just pleading with you…” Bruce gasped the drumming giving traces of
returning “You…you wanted me…to beg you…to play with me…”
Bruce wanted to stop him from believing that he could manipulate him and Joker
narrowed his eyes.
“Play with you?” he protested “I. Married. YOU. With a Judge and guests and…”
he scratched his head “whatever.”
Bruce shook his head in denial though this move was too painful.
“No. You just ridiculed me; you used me to show yourself off like Falcone did…”
He was prepared for Joker’s violent outburst but still his blow was strong. The
clown caught his head before it could crash to the stalactite; he cupped both
sides of Bruce’s head and yanked his captive’s head to his.
“Dooon’t. Compare. Me. With. Them!” he barked and Bruce felt his breath burning
him.
However Bruce, the hurting all over Bruce, didn’t cower.
“You’re exactly like them” his eyes flared up and Joker just gaped. “You just
want to play with me; humiliate me, torture me” he huffed tired but didn’t
close his eyes “use me and when you'll be fed up with me kill me! They used me
for many years as a lifeless toy and I can tell when someone wants the same
thing. But you wanted to make other people your toys too; you tortured, you
killed on my name…I’m not brave but” he stopped to breathe “I wouldn’t have let
you kill more; so I played along begging you as you wanted…”
Joker without letting Bruce’s head shook his head.
“That’s truth, litt- le gem…”
Bruce closed his eyes exhausted.
“Stop calling me that…Please…”
Joker pecked his nose.
“You’re right; Fal - cone called you like that so I’m just copying him. People
used you like a toy. Buuuuut for me you’re muuuch more. You COMPLETE MEEEE! If
I just wanted to fuck…use you I’d have done it right here…” his eyes savored
Bruce’s tied body “Believe me” he shook his head “it’s not easy to resist;
Jokey there” he glanced to his groin “protests constantly; he’ll raise a
placard sooooon: poooor Jockey!”
Bruce blinked uncomfortably and cringed but the older man tightened his hold.
“Buuuuut I thought that marriage is more than a union of bodies and that your
happiness is important. Sooooo before I put my…flag to your…peak, I’ll make you
laugh.”
The younger man frowned.
“You’re going to slice my face…” he whispered.
“No, no, noooooo…You see that would be stupid of me or it’s too early for that
solution.”
Bruce thought of the laughing gas.
“I have a gas that makes people laugh. Yet with you I’ll try a different way.
You see, you complete me: you’re the tragedy to my comedy. I want you to
realize that your tragedy have a core of comedy as I am your core, the one
who’ll liberate you. I’ll make you re-evaluate your life; see the hilarity in
all these horrible things that happened to you.”
Bruce understood: he would experiment on him in his bizarre way.
“No…” he muttered.
Joker frowned.
“Why? I want you to see life as I do: as the bad joke it is. To think like me.”
“But then I won’t complete you, I’ll be just your replica…”
Joker scratched his head thoughtful.
“Naaaah! You won’t be like me; you’ll just smile more…”
He submerged his hand in his pocket and pulled out a syringe filled with a
transparent liquid. Bruce’s eyes bulged.
“What are you doing?!”
Joker grabbed his hair and crooked his neck; the clown had his tongue a bit out
of his mouth concentrating on his task. Bruce tried to resist but his bounds in
the weakened state he was thwarted him.
Joker pierced his neck with the needle.
“No!”
“Ssssss, babe…” he mumbled pressing the liquid in Bruce’s blood. “I just want
youuu to relaaaax… Don’t be afraid: it’s legitimate; what doctors use…”
Bruce made an effort to resist to the impact but his head was already in a
thick shadow and his effort to talk with Joker had weakened him more; also all
the accumulated pain from his body pushed him to the relief that the liquid
temptingly offered. His eyelids were flapping rapidly in his desperate effort
to stay alert.
Joker’s hands cupped his face looking intensely in his exhausted eyes.
“Lullaby and goodnight, thy mother's delight
Bright angels beside my darling abide
They will guard thee at rest, thou shalt wake on my breast…” the nasal voice’s
echo escorted Bruce as he succumbed to the soothing calling of the ebbing pain.
The clown brushed the younger man’s eyelids and kissed fervently his lips
letting gently Bruce’s head fall to his chest.
“Soon, honey, sooooon…” he said as he stood keeping his eyes on the half
covered from stray locks face; the way Brucey was breathing was enchanting and
he felt like staying there and just watching but someone was there.
He turned his head squinting.
“Hellooooo, sugar” he exclaimed stretching his arms wide. “I thought you’d be
with dear Harv…”
Rachel emerged from the wall and stood at the threshold. She wore her military
attire, her eye mask and red wig.
“You have to let him go” she said with her detached and flat voice.
Joker approached her slowly with his hands behind his back and a wicked curious
stare.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk… That Bru - cey… Made even you care…”
She pressed her lips and huffed impatiently. She gestured to Bruce’s vomit.
“The blow to his head is very bad; he bled much and was unconscious for
considerable time” she shook her head “he threw up. He definitely has a
concussion!”
Joker smirked.
“I thought that law was your area of exper - tise…” he taunted “aaaand…some
other things…” he lolled his head.
She rolled her eyes and crossed her hands furious.
“C’me on, Jackie, it’s obvious! He needs to be examined and observed and you
just gave him…what?”
Joker was staring at her amused.
“It’s scientifically approved; I wouldn’t risk my mate’s life. Doctors were
giving that to me all the time and loooook at me…” he made a twirl.
She blinked disbelievingly and shook her head.
“Exactly! Jackie, this isn’t funny! You can’t give psychiatric drugs to someone
healthy, especially suffering a concussion.”
He rubbed his chin thoughtful.
“Heal - thy…How could he survived aaaall this ugliness and horror keeping his
sanity? I must peel his layers and soooolve his mystery…ugh! I’m thrilled! I
can’t wait!”
Rachel yanked her head backwards and rubbed her forehead.
“Everyone is looking for him…They’ll find you soon and if anything happens to
Bruce you’ll be in serious trouble…”
Joker giggled.
“We’ll have fun then! Nobody can imagine that I brought Brucey to Dolcetto -
only Batsy” he shook his index “buuuuut I’ll enjoy a new meeting with him and
Brucey in the middle” he leaked his lips. “As for Supey and good ol’ Tony, they
wouldn’t approach: the first because I have made my provisions in Kryptonite
and the second because I have trapped the place. Doooo you think he’d risk his
littl’ friend’s life?”
Rachel closed her eyes and jerked her head sighing.
“He’ll die in your hands!” she exclaimed and Joker blocked her mouth with his
palm.
“My baby had a difficult day and is at last asleep…Why are you soooo caring
about him? Should I be jea - lous?” he frowned and Rachel rolled her eyes.
“I’m not…I…I don’t care about him…” she snapped.
Joker nodded satisfied.
“Nice, dear! Now go back to your job with Harv and keep me informed…”
She cast a fleeting last glance at Bruce and left while Joker curious followed
her with the eyes and then looked again at Bruce.
“Finally! Just the two of us!”
 
Superman was floating over Gotham trying to find again the familiar and so
loved heartbeat. He sighed and wished he could see again Batman’s dark form
patrolling his city and evading Superman only to lure him in a thrilling game.
Where are you, Bruce?
His eidetic memory flooded his mind with Bruce’s unconscious form embraced by
Joker who had a triumphant expression jeering him for his failure to protect
and take what he desired. The side of his head was drenched in blood. Clark had
seen Bruce again sleeping and always his beauty impressed and melted him but in
the atrium he wasn’t sleeping; he was unconscious and suffering.
His panic made his heartbeat unbearably fast and heavy and his weakness
tormenting. He closed his eyes trying to focus.
You can’t continue like this, he berated himself. Bruce needs you and your
panic doesn’t help him. You’re Superman, damn it! The most powerful being on
the planet… though right now he felt like the most powerless being in the
galaxy. He failed Bruce.
Drop the self pity, he heard his own voice but it was as if the words were
dictated by Bruce. You didn’t fail me; his eyes widened at Bruce’s voice. You
just need to calm down; forget the blood, forget the fucking concussion. You
can find me…
Don’t panic, Kent, he said to himself.
He brought back Bruce’s image as he saw him at the atrium defending him against
Luthor’s insult.
“Mr. Kent isn’t stupid; he's an acknowledged and moral reporter!”
Bruce’s eyes had shined so enchantingly when he said those words and his
heartbeat was strong and calm although manifesting signs of anger.
And suddenly Clark’s heart gave a happy jolt; he could hear again his Star’s
heartbeat! He was alive! Weak, unconscious but alive! And he was hearing him
again his heartbeat leading him where he was…
His fist tore the air and Clark launched clenching his teeth. Suddenly his
weakness wasn’t there or wasn’t important enough. Bruce was waiting for him,
calling him…
A thought crossed fleetingly his mind; should he inform Stark? He angrily
erased that immediately. He could save Bruce alone to show to Stark who was
really connected with the young man and prove to Bruce that he cared about him
more than anyone else.
 
Ironman was flying above the docks: Bruce had told him that Joker was using an
abandoned warehouse as his lair before the attack at Wayne Tower and Tony
wanted to test the possibility Joker took Bruce there ignoring that Batman
discovered his hideout.
It was most helpful that Bruce told him which warehouse was because the docks
were covered by endless rows of same buildings. Of course the half derelict
building had police tapes all over that would have immediately warned the
madman that his hideout was discovered yet Joker didn’t work like most people.
He scanned the place crossing his fingers for getting indications of people
there. He wanted this kidnapping to end now before Bruce suffered anything
worse than a concussion; he wanted to end Alfred’s and Leslie’s despair…and his
own. But his scan was fruitless…No indication of life there except than some
rats.
“Fuck!”
He had already scanned the warehouses on his way there but he didn’t find
anything interesting apart from some smugglers that in this state let him quite
indifferent.
Where had the madman taken Bruce? Gotham surely was a vast city but the crazy
bastard couldn’t have disappeared. When he’d find him he’ll make sure that
Joker will stay a very long time out of action… As long as Bruce was still
alive…No! Joker wouldn’t kill him and Superman said that he was alive. Yet the
alien’s well hidden panic was disconcerting; they shared a connection due to
the substance’s effect but the alien wasn’t able to locate Bruce and that could
mean only one thing: he couldn’t hear Bruce’s heartbeat…
Tony gritted his teeth and fought the urge to launch some missiles to punish
that horrible city but he was the only responsible for this ordeal…He had
hosted that party where Joker with Jack Napier’s identity met Bruce… Idiot! He
cursed himself; you should have realized that he wasn’t Jack…
“Tony” it was Pepper’s strong voice that took him away from the self
accusations; besides they didn’t help.
“Hearing, Pepper”
He heard Pepper coughing.
“Lex Luthor is here and says that he has something that might be helpful.”
“I doubt it!” he snapped.
Tony preferred to ask the Avengers’ help in turning that city upside down than
wasting his time with this worm.
“He says…” her voice was hesitant “that his satellite caught Joker the moment
he left the van and took another car…with Bruce.”
Tony came to an abrupt halt.
“He was still alive, Stark” Luthor’s smug voice somewhat changed into feigning
sympathy reached his helmet; he must have taken the receiver from Pepper’s not
too resisting hand.
“Are you sure?” Tony asked his frown passing in his voice.
“Yes” Luthor sounded like smiling relieved. “You can take full access to
LEXSAT; it’s focused on watching Gotham and surely will have Joker’s car’s
route.”
Tony didn’t like it even if it offered him a great opportunity; it could be a
lie after all or just an attempt to fool him into believing in his reform.
“I have my own satellites constantly on line; I don’t have time for your games
Luthor.”
Thanks to the highest technology of his communicator he was able to hear Luthor
grinding his teeth.
“You know that not every satellite can catch the right thing the right moment:
we were lucky, Stark that LEXSAT caught Joker. Don’t waste that opportunity:
it’s better to have crossed coverage from many sources. We’re talking about
Bruce, Tony…”
Tony pressed his lips.
“Don’t speak to me about Bruce as if you care more for him…” he shouted.
“Tell that to yourself… I was sure you loved him as your brother” he said slyly
“but right now you’re putting your grudge for me and your stubbornness above
him!”
Tony would have punched that motherfucker if he was near.
“I offer you access to my sat, Stark without asking for anything; there’s no
trap, I just want to help and every second you spent with your stupid denial
Joker may be…”
“Shut it!” he said throaty because horrible images of what might this madman
doing to his friend were tormenting him all the time.
He heard the tycoon gulping his saliva and his hurt pride.
“For God’s sake, Tony” Tony cocked an eyebrow “you trust the alien into finding
your friend…” and not a fellow human being, Tony understood the hint.
Indeed, at least Luthor had clues. And there was no harm in getting a glimpse
inside LEXSAT.
“Okay; give me access.”
Pepper saw shocked Luthor smiling relieved.
 
Catwoman was watching Narrows over a rooftop. She had ferreted her old
acquaintances from the underworld: small time crooks and punks not mobsters but
people who knew the city and the way its worms slowly ate the city’s corpse.
People she had helped to survive or escape Falcone’s wrath either as Selina or
Catwoman.
Most of them either didn’t know anything or were reluctant to open their
mouths. But some of them, those who were friends told her that Narrows had a
strange activity tonight. The area was low in activity – illegal activity – all
this time since Falcone’s arrest and with the works in the Haven yet tonight
when the police dispersed to the entire Gotham searching frantically Joker and
his goons some moves were made. And not from the resident players.
Selina focused her gaze on the streets that were too clean and illuminated
since the Haven began working with Police’s protection. Yet Catwoman had the
feeling that all these were the perfect camouflage for their enemy.
She realized that Joker had tricked them; he had sent them all over Gotham
searching desperately while he returned near the ‘crime scene’ where nobody
would suspect him to be.
Her eyes sparkled; Narrows wasn’t a small area and Joker could be anywhere… She
thought of notifying Stark and Superman to search too yet she didn’t have
proofs that Joker was indeed there and didn’t want to distract them from their
own efforts. If she found Bruce she would alarm them to hit Joker
simultaneously; she craved to show to that clown what an angry cat could do to
someone taking her kitten but she wouldn’t risk Bruce’s life. Attacking the
dangerous criminal together would be more effective and safer for Bruce.
She jumped to the opposite rooftop.
 
Joker sank his fingers in Bruce’s sweaty brown locks and inhaled deeply.
Jack Napier had just crossed the hospital’s gate and looked for the cab he
called. He was happy that morning and felt light as a feather or a newborn: he
was healed, he had won his addiction to alcohol and his other demons and now he
was ready for a new beginning. A new start that he promised himself that
wouldn’t have any similarity with his life till now. His useless life that led
him to alcoholism.
The only thing that made him sad was that his new friend, Jackie the Clown died
trying to escape the hospital. He had told the poor man that he was to leave
and surely he felt bad that he would continue being in here without him.
He pressed his lips. Poor Jackie was a good man and had helped him to handle
the hospital and the rehabilitation process. He felt guilty; maybe he shouldn’t
have said him that he’d leave or he should have tried to help Jackie leave that
hospital too…
He sighed but he saw his cab and walked there.
The driver didn’t come out to help him with his only suitcase and Jack rolled
his eyes and put it in the trunk himself. He wouldn’t let impoliteness ruin
that day.
“Downtown” he said flatly and the driver tipped his hat and took off.
Jack was trying to catch a glimpse of the driver’s face through the small
mirror; he had a strange feeling but he couldn’t discern the man’s features.
“Aaaanything wrong, mistah?” a nasal voice asked him giggling.
Jack’s eyes widened in joy. This was a miracle!
“Jackie?! You’re alive? They said that you drowned…”
The guy hugged the passenger’s seat and turned his head to him; he had his
shoulder length hair groomed in a ponytail and wore sunglasses. His smile was
as wide as every time yet the scars weren’t visible and Jack marveled.
“Youuuu know what they say: noooo body noooo murder, huh?” he raised his
sunglasses and winked.
“Where are your scars?”
Jackie smirked.
“The guy that owned this cab helped me cover them…”
Napier thought that the cab’s owner hired Jackie as driver and gave him money
to buy makeup to cover his appalling scars. Well, Jackie saw in his friend’s
eyes his thoughts and chuckled. The stupid, crappy comedian would never imagine
that Jackie killed the owner, grazed his skin and patched his scars.
“So, Jackie, you faked your death to escape from your past; I like it and I’ll
help you as I can.”
Jackie gave a Cheshire smile that made Napier shudder.
“Ooooooh, I liiiike it too, Jack. Aaaand I know you’ll help me…” he stopped the
car in a secluded part of the highway and put his hand inside his jacket.
“To make a new start with your life!”
“Naaaaah! To make a new start with YOOOOUR life, buddy!”
Without Napier even catching the rapid move, Jackie stabbed a syringe to the
shocked Napier’s chest whose bulged eyes stared at him confused and scared
believing that he was going to die.
“Hehehehehehehe!” he couldn’t stop giggling till his “friend” collapsed to the
back seat.
He turned on the engine and span the car to the woods.
Bruce stirred weakly letting a low complaining sound that Joker found cute. The
clown cupped the side of Bruce’s face that was up; the one with the wound
because Joker didn’t want it to be aggravated from friction.
Bruce tried to move because despite the throbbing pain, the dizziness and the
nausea that hand touching him was unbearable and he wanted to avoid it. But as
the fog in his eyes began clearing a bit he took in his surroundings; what he
could of them because his body was trapped somewhere unable to move. And his
blood froze in his veins as his heart gave some violent jolts. He knew that
room!
His hands couldn’t move nor his legs; he was laid on his stomach; he was tied
spreadeagled on a surface and he knew that surface: he knew its hard textile,
its smell, the ropes that bounded his wrists and ankles to fasten them to the
legs of the large table.
Chill had tied him for Falcone to whip him and then…no! For an instance he
cowered in his bounds ready to accept his fate as always did but then his mind
in a throb reminded him that he wasn’t that kid anymore. He clenched his jaw to
keep that clear thought before it slipped in the fog.
Joker…That hand petting him wasn’t Falcone’s was Joker’s. But his head hurt so
much and spread such haze that he had to fight to keep those conclusions.
Bruce raised his eyes seeing Joker towering him and gazing his captive tenderly
but curiously.
“I hope you appreciate my sacri - fice here, babe. I delay my pleasure to help
you get over your traumas.”
Bruce tried to touch his head to the surface in order to cool it but Joker
cupped his jaw and yanked his head gently.
“You can tell that I’m not Falcone, right?”
He nodded.
“Good boy! This is THE place, huh?” he roamed the space with his eyes. “Falcone
told me what he did to you in here… Not just once…”
He squatted and looked Bruce in the eyes while the younger man was struggling
to kick the golden spots out of his sight.
“How a little child could survive all these and keep his sanity?” he tilted his
head on the side curious. “How you survived, Bru-cey, without getting mad?”
He closed his eyes.
“Like thousands of children all around the world!” he snapped his anger boiling
along with the pain and the mist in his head.
Joker squinted.
“Youuuu mean that there are thousands of kids who had been abducted, had their
toe chopped, seen their parents shot down, were almost drowned, were made
slaves working their asses out only to be beaten to a pulp, whipped and raped,
penetrated with dildos until they cursed their own parents?” he caressed
Bruce’s sweaty forehead rubbing between his fingers the stray locks. “I’ll redo
everything Falcone told me he did to you…”
Bruce writhed in his bounds.
“No!”
Joker grabbed his captive’s face with both hands and kissed his lips.
“Sssssss… I won’t do it to torture you, honey…I’m going to suuuuffer as much as
you” he whined. “I washed your mouth, I hope you don’t mind; puke flavor isn’t
my favor – what I was saying? Ah! But it’s the only way, baby; to make you re-
evaluate your trauma, to make you get over it by being over-exposed to it.
You’ll learn to laugh with your past, to make fun of it, to not pain” he kissed
his cold cheeks. “And I will find out how you managed to get out of this sane
and caring for people. Hey, babe! You should hate everyone for letting you rot
in Falcone’s hands not spending millions to make their lives better!”
Bruce jerked his hands trying to escape the ropes. Joker stood and walked
slowly to the spot where Bruce’s wrist was tied to the table; he brushed the
limb and Bruce felt his right arm crying in agony.
“You believe that you can rip youuuur bounds?” Joker jeered. “The fact that you
grew up in a smaaaall cave with bats as pets doesn’t make you Batman!” he
giggled.
That was good, Bruce found the clarity to think; Joker doesn’t even suspect
that he was Batman.
“But you’re pathetic, child…how could he think otherwise?”
Bruce felt cold sweat running his spine; Ra’s was also in the room. He gulped
and let his cheek absorb the cold of the table. Ra’s was dead; he closed his
eyes. You’re confused and in pain and you must rope off these to find a way to
escape.
He heard the so familiar sound of the belt crawl on fabric; Falcone would lash
him with his belt… He clenched his fingers. No, concentrate: Falcone is dead;
Joker just plays with your mind before tortures you as he did with his victims.
He felt the leather feathery touching his back.
“Is that how you torture all your victims?” he inquired calm but letting a
slight tremor color his voice.
The belt stopped moving.
“Meeeee? Torture?” Joker protested. ‘I’m just trying to make people appreciate
how beautiful life is despite the problems…” he raised his brows. “It’s not my
fault they die in the process… But you should understand: I’m not tormenting
you; I’m struggling to save you from that corrosive inner pain. Because. I CARE
FOR YOU!”
His hand pawed Bruce’s buttock which lay so enticing on the table even under
the fine pants and Joker pouted embarrassed.
“Well, I’m a man, after all and the temptation…” his other hand grabbed the
wrist of the pawing hand and removed it.
Bruce had managed to cage all these things tormenting his head clearing
somewhat his thoughts. He was at Joker’s mercy so he could try to learn things
for him till he found an opportunity to escape.
“You say that you care for me but you didn’t tell me even your name …”
Joker run to him and took his chin in his hand.
“I’m Joker, honey” he whispered sweetly, flapping his eyelids.
Bruce’s eyes filled with innocence invaded Joker’s.
“This isn’t your name: it’s your title” he saw Joker frowning and gulped. “You
know everything about me and I don’t know anything…” the clown caressed his
head’s wound. “You…you told me to…love you” he bit his lip “how can I love
someone I don’t know?”
Joker pressed softly his lips on Bruce’s forehead.
“Tender thing… I’m Jackie…” he breathed.
“Do you have a surname?”
Now Joker tittered.
“I doooon’t need it, babe; I can be Jack Sparrow or Jack the Ripper or Jack
Daniels… Falcone didn’t have you a name for eighteen years; you were just his
thing, his toy, his pet…”
Bruce moaned as a pang pierced his head.
“You had the same life as me?” he asked the madman.
“No, babe, noooo” he shook his head. “I could never have a life like yours or
else you wouldn’t complete me” he combed Bruce’s hair with his fingers.
“Then? How was your life?” he smiled shyly. “I like to hear about lives
different than mine.”
Joker’s lips touched the dried blood over his wound and Bruce inhaled deeply
trying to fight off the nausea.
“My life isn’t important, Bru-cey; Hey! If it was important I would remember
it. The important is you, honey. Who remember everything in detail and suffer.
But your Jackie is here, doooon’t be scared! You may think that I’m tormenting
you but in the end you’ll see that I’m the one who cares for you.”
He pulled out of his pocket another syringe and Bruce cringed. Joker grabbed
his head and dug the needle in his neck.
“You’re insane!”
“Exactly, dar-ling! And I want to find out why you are not after everything you
suffered; I’ll help you see your trauma with other eye. Because I. Complete.
You! I care for you!”
Bruce felt a new wave of mist attacking his brain enhancing the pain he had
managed to press.
“You don’t!” he spat at his tormentor’s face and saw Joker’s eyes glistening
thrilled.
“I loooove your fire, babe; Falcone failed to quench it! But I truly care…Who
else do you think that cares for youuu?” his eyes came closer so that Bruce’s
field was filled by their madness. “That old guy Alfred?” he shook his head.
“You’re not so naïve to believe that! Falcone told me that Al knew from the
start that you weren’t dead…yet he let you in Falcone’s hands...alone in the
dark and cold…helpless…he saw what Falcone was doing to you…” he spat his venom
slowly caressing Bruce’s locks comfortingly.
Bruce saw again Alfred at the Manor’s entrance just watching as Chill dragged
him away while Falcone laughed; his eyes were begging Alfred to help him, to
take him from these people, to make the pain stop. But Alfred just stood there
staring at him without moving, without saying anything, just letting them take
him. Just without making anything.
As he didn’t do anything that day at Dolcetto who saw what Falcone did to him.
Falcone was holding him so tight that it hurt; once again he begged Alfred with
his eyes to help him, to make that stop, to take him from them; he was tired,
in pain, cold, so hungry that it hurt, his ass still bled…Yet Alfred didn’t do
anything; just looked at him sad and turned his back on him leaving him in the
dark.
Joker nodded and licked his lips.
“Exactly, babe…”
But Bruce re-lived Alfred’s hug when he went to the Manor after all these years
using the tunnels; he saw again the butler’s tears…Alfred loved him and he
suffered too…
The clown stood.
“We’re going to repeat what Falcone was doing to you in this very place.
Besides you’re a big boy now” he pushed a machine exactly the same with the one
Falcone used to penetrate him with huge dildos; the clown had already attached
one.
Nausea filled with bile his throat and Bruce convulsed on the table desperately
yet the liquid Joker gave to him had weakened him or just worsened his already
ill state.
Joker patted his head.
“Your hole isn’t so small as then though it must be four months since you had
anything inside. Relaaaaax, cutie; I have even lubricated it. Our session is
only for therapy after all…”
He pushed the machine to the other end of the table.
“Please, sir, no…” they were the only words that came to him.
“It’s that how you pleaded with them?”
He didn’t wait for a reply and struck Bruce’s back with the belt he had let
folded on his captive’s waist. It wasn’t a strong lash to draw blood or tear
his shirt and Bruce could have taken it without a flinch however he gave Joker
the gasp he expected and the frightened whine.
“Falcone whipped you almost eeeevery night, right?”
Bruce couldn’t reply because Falcone was standing before him holding three
leather belts; the mobster showed them to him.
“I’ll let ya choose tonight…Which ya prefer for whipping your back?” his smile
was evil.
“Please, sir…I was a good boy…I did all my chores…please…”
Falcone shook his head angrily.
“If you don’t choose, I’ll do!” he snapped impatiently. “And ya know I always
choose the heaviest…”
He gulped and nodded; his tied body shaking from the expected pain.
“Th…this” he showed with the head the one looking more thin.
Falcone stared at the belt and shook his head.
“Nah…This one is too light; it’d be like your mom stroking you…” he threw the
belt behind his back and he heard Chill’s shrieking laughter. “Well, which
one?” his master showed him the two remaining belts.
Bruce closed his eyes abandoning every hope; Falcone was just mocking him.
However if he didn’t play along his punishment would be worse. He nodded to the
one without engravings because the other with the raised designs hurt more.
Falcone regarded the chosen belt and twisted his lips.
“Nah…” he tossed it to the floor. “Yar no good in choices; I’ll stick to that”
he brushed his heavy, carved belt smirking at his frightened eyes.
“I’m talking to you, baaaabe” Joker’s nasal voice laced with impatience
distorted Falcone’s face and reality welcomed him with a new lash from his
captor.
He writhed clenching his hands and Joker caressed fondly the places his belt
hit. Bruce sobbed.
“You know, dar-ling” he said thoughtful “this is stupid; I can’t destroy
something so beautiful…” he lolled his head “I took a sneaaaak preview – I hope
you don’t mind… Soooooo, I’ll treat you without ruining you…Yep! That I’ll
doooo!”
Bruce’s heart which was already beating too slowly and heavily to be normal
stopped for an instant; he knew that this wasn’t good. Joker would do something
worse.
Indeed, with dread felt Joker’s hands slipping under him and unfastening his
belt. He gritted his teeth and tried to breathe; he shouldn’t show him that he
wasn’t a victim. Yet Joker’s hands unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and he
couldn’t stop his body from convulsing; his wrists twisted in their bindings
asking to snap them yet he didn’t want Joker to realize his true strength.
Joker giggled and greedily yet reverently lowered Bruce’s pants and underwear
revealing his buttocks. The clown whistled and Bruce closed his eyes feeling a
gloved hand brushing his exposed flesh.
“Your ass surpasses my wildest fantasies! Too bad we have a therapy session to
do and the dildo will enter first that delicious looking hole.”
“No, Jackie, please…” he sobbed.
Yet he heard the evil machine rolling to come near him. Joker’s hand was again
on his buttock rubbing soothingly.
“Jackie wants the best for you; after we finish your therapy you’ll be
liberated: trust me.” His eyes savored the naked flesh and he sighed. “Believe
me: it won’t be easy for me watching something not mine getting inside you…”
“Bring it on!”
Falcone’s jeering voice pierced his ears and he felt something cold and solid
touching his anus; his nails dag his own flesh.
“Ow!” Joker exclaimed. “It’s still too big for your hole…”
“Use s’me lube?”
Chill asked.
The solid, wet object poked at his flesh and Bruce sobbed like the ten year old
whom Falcone tortured to force him curse his dead parents.
“You must give them what they want before you snatch from them what you want,
child.”
Ra’s smug, sly voice told him and he saw the lion-like man smiling.
“All these years you were a whore; now you’ll be a useful whore…”
Bruce laughed: Joker wanted him to laugh, right? Maybe he could bring him here
and make him forget the therapy confusing him with the technique Ra’s taught
him. He knew that Joker was above average intelligent yet Bruce had
other…skills though he never wanted to use them. He concentrated jailing the
pulsing pain somewhere too far away.
Joker’s face was in front of him; his eyes were curious.
“You…laughed?”
Bruce smiled letting something deep inside him guide his lips in something that
he saw in Joker’s eyes that was seductive. His eyes as got focused on the
madman’s green eyes were possessed from something first known.
“I know how to laugh, Jackie; though my laughter isn’t as beautiful as you
deserve I’m sure that it’d suffice for now… So you don’t have to proceed with
the therapy right now…” his lips approached as much as they could Joker’s ruby
lips and sighed causing a shudder to the clown. “I want you to have a terrific
first time with your mate” he lowered his eyelids softly and pouted his lips.
“Dildo will leave a horrific aftermath and you deserve better than that…” he
smiled “I know you’re waiting anxiously for this…” his lips surged to joker’s
purged lips failing to reach them just letting the air from his chest caress
the madman’s flesh.
Joker closed his eyes unable to remember what he was going to do. His groin
twitched demanding.
“Why waiting any longer?”
Joker savored those rosy, perfectly shaped lips with his eyes and then captured
them violently with his mouth. Bruce moaned letting more of the hot air from
his chest pass Joker’s walls and enter his lungs. The clown’s hands cupped his
captive’s head and caressed his locks without releasing Bruce’s lips which
pressed softly at the spots that made Joker numb.
“Oh, baaaaby…” the clown whispered.
And suddenly Joker detached himself though he still rasped from desire. Pulled
out of his jacket a small bottle, drenched his glove with its content and
pressed his palm on Bruce’s mouth and nose.
Bruce looked at him panicked: chloroform. Yet Joker brushed his hair
soothingly.
“Huuuush, angel. I just want to make everything perfect…”
Bruce twitched some more and surrendered.
 
Superman floated over Narrows indecisive; hours passed since he first found his
Star’s heartbeat again. That moment he believed that he would locate Bruce
instantly but unfortunately it wasn’t so easy: something blocked their
connection making the heartbeat inconsistent and disappearing. The first couple
of times that he lost the familiar sound he panicked that Bruce had...He
couldn’t even form the thought. Had stopped having a pulse. Yet when the beat
returned after a while he was sure that the reason of this inconsistency had
nothing to do with Bruce.
It was outrageous that he needed so many hours to finally discover where Bruce
was; he should have guessed. Dolcetto. Bruce’s prison and Hell. Joker brought
him here to play his sick games and fool those who were looking for him.
 
Tony constantly watched the footage from different satellites, his own and
LEXSAT, coming to Ironman’s system. Luthor’s satellite gave him the car Joker
used after he left the van with the goons. Then he was crossing different feeds
into drawing Joker’s and Bruce’s course.
As fast as he worked with the help of his gadgets it took too much time to find
that Joker had ended up to the Narrows; he was flying there. Once there he
would be able to locate Joker despite the fact the clown abandoned the car and
continued on foot getting lost in the dark alleys. However he was optimist; his
search would be much easier now that it was limited to one area.
He alerted Jim Gordon.
Damn! The clown had fooled them being all the time near the crime scene while
they looked for him around the city.
He gritted his teeth.
 
There were goons guarding the cabaret from outside and others inside. Everyone
carrying loaded rifles but the most dangerous thing was the explosive devices
set in the main entrance, the back door and the windows; there was only one
window in the corridor of the upper floor which was guarded by two goons.
Superman frowned; why Joker left one window without explosives? It wasn’t his
style to let loose ends. Maybe he had set booby traps for anyone who’d discover
him. He should be very careful and study more the place.
But suddenly his body’s cells screamed pushing him with an invincible force, an
irresistible desire – need... Bruce was there, in the office at the upper
floor! And then every warning for caution, every second thought was erased
leaving only one fiery desire enhancing with every needy beat of his thirsty
heart: he would get Bruce and take him to his Fortress to protect him from
every madman in the world. To have him only for himself...
He stormed from the window with the speed of the wind and knocked out the thugs
with two punches. He looked ardently around him, his eyes red with rage: he’d
kill that clown for stealing his Star.
And then as he made to run to Bruce he realized that his legs didn’t obey; a
corrosive fatigue flooded his entire body with the flow of the blood. He
grinded his teeth and made two hopelessly slow steps and fell on his knees
unable even to clench his fists; even his respiration was strenuous and
insufficient.
In a flash he realized what was that blocked his connection with Bruce and why
Joker had left that window clean from explosives: kryptonite. He lured him
inside only to kill him with kryptonite and ensure that Bruce would remain
his...
He closed his eyes in despair; he hadn’t informed Stark and the police. He had
thought selfishly; he wanted Bruce for himself and now Joker would have the
time to do whatever he wanted to him. Hopelessness squeezed his heart as he
slumped to the corner; at least he didn’t feel pain...physical pain because his
guts were twisted and his chest smashed by a gravestone. His nightmare four
months back returned to mock him...
“Please, Clark...untie me...my arm hurts like then...”
Bruce’s begging voice from the nightmare echoed in his ears.
And then he saw again Bruce’s eyes: the sapphire shining blue and the sparkling
emerald star in them...And then the emerald star became a glowing green rock.
His breathe stopped on the revelation: Bruce was that special kind of
kryptonite that lured him here to be killed by the common kryptonite!
At least his Star kryptonite was sparing him from the pain...
 
A gasp kicked Bruce’s chest and his eyes opened bulged in panic; his heart
ached and he couldn’t stop the gasps. He disciplined his exhausted mind into
controlling his body despite the drumming that seemed to have intensified; he
talked his respiration into becoming even and his heartbeat to normal levels
though the nausea was stubbornly sending waves of dizziness. He became aware of
his condition.
He was laid on his back on a bed, thankfully dressed. His hands were stretched
above his head; his wrists tied one upon another and strapped on the railings
of the headboard while his legs were spread wide bound separate on the two
corners of the bed.
No need to panic, he thought. He could escape the straps of his hands yet he
could hear Joker’s breath, feel his predatory eyes so he had to wait.
“Youuu did it aaagain, huh, babe?”
“W...What?” he turned surprised where the nasal voice was heard.
Joker stood from an armchair that Bruce recognized as Falcone’s and walked
towards the bed. He was in Falcone’s office; he squashed the wave of numbing
fear that attacked him.
“Mani – pulate me, honey!”
Bruce shook his head in denial.
“I didn’t.”
Joker giggled and waved his hand.
“You used your charm aaaaand” he purged his lips and frowned deep in thought “I
don’t know what else to stop me from applying my therapy.”
“I...I don’t have...” he gulped uncomfortable “any charm.”
“Hahahahaha! Suuuuure, baaaabe...” he sneered “Is that how you persuaded
Falcone to keep you alive?”
Bruce gritted his teeth but only inside because on the fore he lowered his eyes
shyly.
“No...I didn’t...”
Joker sat on the mattress, took out his glove and brushed Bruce’s cheek, the
younger man shuddering.
“You were a little whore, huh?”
“Prince slut!” Falcone sniggered.
“And you still are, honey...A whore and a virgin at the same time... Those
contradictions in you fascinate me, Bru-cey! I want to dissect you and find
your every secret...” his voice was low and Bruce blinked frightened. “You
didn’t want it and still you don’t but it was the only way to gain some time
hoping that your friends would save you.”
Bruce closed his eyes desperate while his fingers worked with the bindings.
Joker opened his arms widely.
“SUR-PRISE!” he brought his mouth before Bruce’s eyes and goggled. “Nooooobody
came...” he furrowed his brows. “Strange, huh? Okay, Batman maybe has someone
else to save aaaand to be honest: he is a nutcase; you can’t rely on his whims.
Buuuut Supey?” he blinked innocently pouting. “I saw how he looks at you...” he
dragged his words. “Oooooh, boy!” he whistled. “He wants to screw you so hard,
so deep to jolt your eyes out! I saw how bulged were his red briefs... Awwww!
His super dick must be bigger than any dildo Falcone put in your little ass...”
 
Clark was hearing Joker’s words as if he was Bruce or through Bruce’s ears; he
could hear his Star’s sorrowful heartbeat. He couldn’t hear his own heart but
he could hear Bruce’s; his entire collapsing world was his Star’s sad heart.
 
“Yeeeeet Supey didn’t come to the rescue... Mmmm... I think he realized that
you’re a whore and decided that he shouldn’t waste his time with a
whore...Suuuuure, he gladly would pin you to a wall aaaaaand...” he jerked his
hips suggestively “Ugh! I’m horny, baaaabe! Buuuut nothing more... He’s a boy
scout, you know; he has better things to do than saving a whore” he smirked.
“Even an unwilling one: a hero like him wants to save pure people. CLEAN
PEOPLE!”
 
That’s a lie, Bruce, don’t believe him...I’m here...
Clark yelled in his thoughts because he didn’t have the strength even to
whisper; he prayed that Bruce could feel his presence, his thought, his love...
 
Bruce let his eyes fill with tears and kept Joker’s gaze trapped in his; that
way in the semi darkness of the room the clown wouldn’t notice his fingers
bending like snakes and work with the knots. What the madman said was his
belief too; as much as it pained him he knew that he was too filthy for Clark.
He knew that this good, beautiful man deserved something pure and clean... Also
he was sure that after he took the antidote Clark would forget all this
nonsense and relieved would search for his true love.
“And Toooony?” Joker cocked his eyebrow while his voice waved with faked shock.
“Youuuuur Tony? The Ironman supposedly is your best pal, huh? Where is he,
baby? I bet you were sure that when you opened your eyes you’ll find his stupid
face smiling at you.”
He looked around.
“Buuuuuut nooooo!” his naked hand slipped under Bruce’s shirt which was
unbuttoned to the chest and grabbed his breast; he moaned. “Youuur Tony has
better things to do; as a matter of fact, he always had” he twisted Bruce’s
nipple between his fingers. “You know broads: female and male, booze, dance,
parties, orgies! Eighteen years” his eyes sparkled evilly “he nnnnnever
searched for you.”
Bruce’s breathe stopped and Joker smirked.
“Didn’t that puzzle you?”
“He believed me dead...” he snapped.
Joker shook his head pursing his lips.
“Naaaaah...You’re not so naive, babe; Stark isn’t a fool and everyone knows
that without body there’s no murder.”
“He was too young then!”
“Really now, sweetie... Too young... He wasn’t too young though to go to the
university, to take over his father’s industries, to make inventions...”
Bruce didn’t lower his eyes and Joker pinched viciously his nipple making him
flinch.
“He was too young only to figure out that you were aalive and to save you; and
every night when Falcone whipped you and then fucked you for Chill to come
next; every night in your cold cage with your little stomach aching from hunger
you begged for him to come and get you, to save you from your Hell. Buuuut he
never came...like now...” his voice was low but leaked acid, he leaned over
Bruce’s head. “Not because he was too young to figure out...No... Buuut because
he didn’t care” he shrugged.
“Tony cared...cares” he whispered though he wanted to punch him but he had to
pretend.
Joker gritted his teeth and pulled a box under the bed; he dove his hand and
brought on his knees a pack of old magazines.
“Aaaand he was mourning for his dead baby friend, huh?” he took one of the
magazines and read loud: “Tony Stark in new orgy...” he threw the magazine to
Bruce’s face and took another. “Stark’s new...affair”.
He showed to Bruce the front page with Tony beaming clearly drunk with his tie
askew between a half-naked woman and a young man; Joker threw the magazine away
and took another.
“Tony Stark rocks the Metropolitan Museum; fucks his new starlet in public and
pays huge refund...” he slapped Bruce again with it and took another. “Stark’s
scandalous party at MIT’s hostel gets him expelled?” Joker lolled his head.
“Obviously not...”  he took another “Stark protagonists in new orgy-party at
Boston – bystanders speak about three women and a man...”  Joker giggled“Stark
rocks the party! Strips along with his new flirt...” the clown coughed “Holly
ass; Tony’s stark naked butt caught in action over blond super model.”
Bruce was rasping.
“Stop please...”
Joker massaged his captive’s abused breast and leaned to him.
“Is it enough? To understand that ‘your Tony’ didn’t give a damn about you? He
learnt that you didn’t die and he rushed to act the caring friend just to find
the opportunity to fuck you. Buuuut now that you need him, he probably found
something more interesting: a jubilant orgy probably... You see, Bru-cey; you
were always alone, abandoned by everyone...And even now with all these
sycophants around you that pretend that they love and care, you know deep
inside that you’re still more lonely than before...” his lips brushed Bruce’s.
The straps were loosened.
“How you know so much about Tony?”
Joker gave a crooked smile.
“I know his world...”
“Jack Napier knew that world and you killed him” Bruce narrowed his eyes. “I
think you were jealous for Napier’s success...”
Joker grabbed his chin and yanked his head.
“He had nothing to make me envious; his success was all mine! He became famous
because of me! He was nothing before me!”
Bruce’s eyes shone.
“You didn’t kill him because he insulted me, did you? Why you killed him?”
Joker pulled Bruce’s lips to his and sucked them.
“His role had ended; I liberated him as I will liberate you...”
Bruce’s eyes shook frightened.
“You’ll kill me?”
Joker let Bruce’s chin and frantically took off his jacket tossing it on the
floor.
“No, honey” he shook his head and took the blade he had in his belt. “I’m going
to fuck you!”
 
No! Clark screamed with the power of his thoughts, desperate. Please, Bruce,
don’t let him...Where are you, Stark?
 
Bruce gasped as Joker’s blade slipped inside his shirt and in one swift move
ripped it along the button’s line. The madman grabbed the two sides of the
fabric and revealed Bruce’s torso setting the fabric under his body.
“W-O-W!” he whistled and his hand roamed Bruce’s abs. “You’re really a wonder,
boy...”
Bruce closed his eyes and tried to forget that touch that enhanced the nausea
and pushed his mind to sink in the swamp of his past. He had already untied the
straps holding his wrists to the railings and the rope that bound them together
was ready to fall.
Joker’s wet lips were traveling his abs but stopped abruptly when reached the
scar in his stomach.
“What’s this, hon?” his narrowed eyes pierced his captive’s.
Bruce kept his cool.
“Falcone...Some times” his breathes were uneven “he...he was carried away; once
I was pierced by the fireplace’s railings...”
“I’m happy I killed him then...”
He jumped on the mattress and straddled Bruce’s pelvis. His gaze savoured the
younger man’s dressed groin licking his lips.
“Paaaarty time!” he unbuttoned hurriedly Bruce’s pants and he convulsed.
“Don’t!”
Joker stopped abruptly and looked at him frowned.
“You asked for it, honey! Aaaand I chose that place because you’re used to
being fucked here!”
He sprawled over Bruce, ensnared the youth’s torso and sank his head in his
captive’s breasts sucking and biting while his already hard penis rubbed
demanding on the groin underneath him. His fingers grabbed Bruce’s waistband
pulling down the pants.
“No! Please... I have gonorrhea...” Bruce yelled desperately and Joker yanked
his head smiling witty.
The madman put his hand in his pants’ pocket.
“Aaaand I haaaave: CONDOMS! Tadaaaa!” he pulled out of his pocket a small box
and showed it to his captive triumphantly. “I wouldn’t put Jockey without
precaution somewhere that so many others have been before.”
He made to lower Bruce’s silken black boxers and Bruce’s body sent a new stream
of sweat.
“Don’t!” he cried again and this time when Joker raised his head every trace of
amusement was lost from his eyes giving its place to pure malice.
 He yanked his hand ready to smack his misbehaving spouse yet Bruce clenched
his teeth and jerked his head butting Joker who gave a gasp-giggle and
collapsed over Bruce’s half naked body hit simultaneously with a heavy object
in the back of his head.
Bruce stared at the one holding the log that hit Joker glad that he didn’t let
the ropes drop from his hands yet.
 
 
***** Chapter 45 *****
Ironman was flying full speed to Falcone’s old cabaret; he had informed Jim
Gordon about the location where Joker held Bruce and his indicators showed that
every available unit changed its course to head to the Narrows.
Yet he couldn’t wait them: Bruce had been too many hours at Joker’s mercy and
Tony didn’t know in what condition he’d find his friend. He was in a hurry; his
flying following the frantic pace of his heartbeat. He’d take Bruce out of
there and to safety and for that he didn’t need the cops’ help; they could
‘mop’ the aftermath.
Suddenly his systems seemed to flicker; he frowned under the face plate and
started a full scan keeping his course albeit lowering his speed.
“Damn it!” Ironman couldn’t betray him right now! In the most urgent time!
But the scan illuminated the orange alert almost in every weapon and navigating
system which was rapidly worsening into lessening his power supplies. His eyes
widened; that was impossible! He was flying like a plane of the First World War
and in a few seconds he wouldn’t be able even to float!
Maybe he should feel dread but right now anger was the only emotion that
motioned his heart. He’ll find the responsible for that and then he’ll wish he
was never born! Though he already knew who the culprit was...
“Stupid Tony!” he berated himself. “You trusted that rat and he backstabbed
you!”
But now wasn’t the moment for meaningless curses; he activated the emergency
intercom, the experimental one that worked with brain energy. He smiled:
Bruce’s mind power inspired him to try this; if Bruce’s mind was so strong to
keep him alive through all these shit, then his could do something so mundane
as to energize his communication with Jarvis during emergencies.
“Sir!”
He heard the AI’s emotionless voice expressing...emotion?
“Thank God, sir!”
Tony cocked an eyebrow at the AI’s exclamation: probably he had made Jarvis so
autonomous in its function that it searched on its own for human behavior
patterns. He was a fucking genius but that hadn’t any meaning right now.
“Can you find who sabotages Ironman’s systems? It’s Luthor, right? Through that
fucking satellite.”
“No, sir; LEXSAT doesn’t manifest any sign of such activity.”
Tony was dumbfounded; he pressed his lips.
“Then who?” he uttered his inner puzzlement but the sudden loss of height got
him out of his reverie. “Never mind! Jarvis, take control of every system
including the weaponry and activate the secret backup energy generator. Guide
me to Dolcetto, the highest speed you can afford!”
He could feel the emergency energy generator fuelling his armor, recovering his
lost height and speed. Yet he still didn’t think it wise to attempt taking
control himself. Jarvis fed him with scans of the area in front of him. He
could hear police sirens in a distance. And then what he laid ahead made him
frown.
“Jarvis, is it safe to take control yet?”
 
Bruce gaped at the person holding a short log: it was definitely a woman
although dressed in a khaki military uniform; a wide khaki eye mask covered her
half face and a deep red wig with short hair hid her real locks. At first he
thought that she was a hallucination product of the impact with Joker’s
surprisingly strong head; in normal conditions his head wouldn’t feel any pain
yet he was already suffering a concussion.
The woman pulled out of her wide belt a big knife and Bruce – still playing his
role – shuddered at the shine of the blade in the semi darkness.
She tried to give a reassuring smile but it was rather flat and cold so she
dropped the effort and just shoved Joker’s unconscious body from the young man
to the floor and approached Bruce’s head.
“Don’t be afraid” she whispered in a throaty voice and Bruce was sure that
wasn’t hers and she wanted to cover her identity. “I’ll help you.”
The blade cut in a fluid motion the ropes that Bruce kept attached to his
wrists and the woman supported him in a sitting position hurrying to cut the
ropes fastening his ankles to the bed.
Bruce rubbed his wrists that carried scratches from the friction and tried to
recover the blocked blood flow. He looked at his ‘savior’ hiding a smirk:
undoubtedly she was Rachel Dawes; he recognized her body and her eyes. He was
content that the young woman wasn’t a lost cause though she was Joker’s
accomplice: she not only disapproved of the Phelps’ murder and possibly felt
guilt but also knocked out her boss to save him.
Remembering that his pants were lowered, Bruce hastily grabbed them feigning
clumsiness due to his fingers’ numbness and covered his pelvis, buttoning and
zipping trembling.
Rachel cast him a sympathetic glance and took Joker’s jacket from the floor.
She returned to him the moment he tried to cover his naked torso with his torn
shirt; he raised his eyes shyly to her and she smiled really soothingly and her
eyes shone in a way that was strangely familiar to Bruce.
“It’s alright, Bruce; don’t be shy of me” she said and put Joker’s jacket over
his shaking shoulders. “I know you detest that piece of clothe but it’s cold
outside” she pressed her lips. “Can you walk? I hate to rush you but we must
leave: Joker’s head is too thick so it won’t take much time for him to wake...”
He nodded and let her support him to stand which was strangely difficult after
so many hours of being immobile. His legs bent and he didn’t stop them to
maintain his cover; Rachel hurried to catch him.
“I’m sorry” he mumbled shyly “my legs...and I’m dizzy...”
She rubbed his back.
“It’s okay; just hold on...”
Bruce supported his weight enough to not tire much the woman but at the same
time to not make her suspicious. They came out of Falcone’s office and Rachel
turned them towards the back stairs yet Bruce stilled his legs and looked at
the slumped form in the niche of the corridor.
Superman was barely breathing yet he raised his eyes immediately to Bruce as
soon as he felt the human’s eyes on him. A smile flickered at his death pale,
sweaty face: his Star was safe!
Bruce’s heart gave a painful jolt under Rachel’s annoyed and impatient stare
that followed his eyes to the fallen hero.
“He’s ill; he’s dying! We must save him” he looked desperate at Rachel’s eyes.
However she gave him an exasperated sharp glare and huffed.
“I’m here for you not a fucking superhero!” she snapped and Bruce’s eyes sank
covering the anger he felt. “I know your stupid good heart but Joker’s goons
will hear us if we don’t hurry up” she shook her head frustrated seeing Bruce’s
unwillingness to follow her. “Do you want Joker rape you?! He’s Superman for
fuck’s sake! He’ll make it.”
Superman felt an agony worse than that deriving from Kryptonite: Bruce
shouldn’t risk for his sake...even if the younger man’s concern about him made
him feel exhilarated.
“Mr. Wayne...” he gathered every ounce of his remaining strength “go...I’ll be
alright...” he attempted to smile.
Rachel pushed Bruce and he gritted his teeth and followed promising that he’ll
come right back to take Clark away. Superman’s eyes stayed with him till he
couldn’t see him anymore; he was happy that Bruce escaped although the erosive
illness took over him again.
She led Bruce to the back door from where he took the garbage outside every
night during his captivity and to the dark alley behind Dolcetto.
Bruce followed the woman’s quick pace huffing to pretend that he was too weak.
“Hold on, Bruce; a bit more and you’ll be safe” Rachel encouraged him and he
nodded smiling at her warm eyes that she hurried to take away from his.
“Exactly, dear!” a jeering but really angry female voice filled the empty alley
and a black figure like a flash fell smoothly from the sky to squat before
them.
 
“A few inches more, sir and you will be out of the range of the waves that
blacked out your armor.”
Just the description of what had happened made Tony blush with hurt pride;
someone managed to inflict chaos on his impenetrable system with some kind of
waves – that was outrageous! Yet what was important lay ahead: ten armed men
hidden behind parked cars and bins were waiting. Tony clenched his teeth: of
course, the clown was prepared in case someone discovered his hideout. His
thugs waited the cops and him.
Their guns couldn’t hurt him even in this...bizarre state which made him very
happy that the weapon that smashed the Wayne Tower’s windows was disarmed and
safely locked in the bat cave. However the approaching police cars weren’t as
durable as Ironman.
“Get me Jim Gordon’s cell now!”
“As you wish, sir.”
Now the thugs saw him and began shooting at him.
“Jim Gordon speaking” the commissionaire’s tired but firm voice filled his
helmet as Tony kept avoiding the bullets diving and twirling in the air.
“Commissionaire, you must slow down; there’s an ambush ahead. I’ll clean the
field and give you the OK to continue.”
“Alright, Mr. Stark. We’ll wait your signal.”
“Sir, you can take the control now; you got away from the field.”
“Finally!” he uttered and armed the stunning wave weapons in the forearms’ part
of the armor.
He felt the impulse to kill yet he knew Bruce’s views about the matter so he
just hit the goons with the energy waves which knocked them out immediately.
Without touching ground aimed his low range and power missiles and destroyed
their weapons, living the handcuff thing to the cops.
At last, he could run to Bruce.
 
 Bruce’s eyes flashed recognizing Catwoman, her eyes two fires in the deep
darkness of the alley that was dimly lit by the distant street lamps. Selina
smiled fleetingly to him but instantly glared at the woman who held Bruce.
Rachel pulled out her big knife unfazed by the impressive figure that stretched
impressively to block their path. There’s no chance she’ll let someone harm
Bruce.
“Back away!” Joker’s right hand snapped. “He will return to his people; he has
had enough!”
Catwoman snorted and crossed her arms; she liked the fact that Bruce had found
someone protective but she didn’t trust any other but herself around him.
“Then we want the same thing, honey” she dragged her words.
“I’m not sure if I can trust someone dressed as a cat...”
Selina lolled her head at the side and smirked.
“I see you don’t love animals...”
“I used to” she cocked an eyebrow “but living with a certain animal changed
that!” she lolled her head remembering Joker.
Bruce rolled his eyes.
“Girls, sorry to interrupt but we have to get away from here...” he rasped.
Rachel looked at him.
“You know Catwoman?”
He nodded.
“I heard that she helped many people during Falcone’s rule...”
Catwoman uncrossed her arms and walked elegantly closer and Rachel lowered her
knife but didn’t hide it.
“I can take it from here, dear...” she said to the woman who saved her friend.
Rachel cast a narrowed, estimating glare at her and then she turned to Bruce.
“Do you trust her?” she asked flatly.
Catwoman snorted.
“Yes” Bruce answered.
“Police is informed and already on the way here along with Ironman” Catwoman
said.
Rachel nodded and put the knife in her belt.
“Take care of him” she snapped and began walking towards the end of the alley.
Bruce made to follow her and Catwoman supported him because she wasn’t sure
about his condition.
“Wait!” he yelled to the woman’s back.
Rachel sighed and halted, turning slowly to him.
“What?!”
“You saved me: you don’t have to avoid police...”
She cackled.
“Bruce, the blow in your head must have shaken your brain badly.”
She turned to leave and Bruce hurried to speak.
“Thank you for everything!”
Rachel stopped dropping her head exasperated.
“Don’t!” she spat without turning to him and ran.
Bruce followed her with the eyes despite the humid darkness till she got out of
his reach.
“Are you alright?” Selina asked letting her worry flow freely to her voice.
However she didn’t wait for an answer and hastily scrutinized him, her always
undeterred flashing eyes bulging at the bruises on his face, the nasty red mark
on his forehead where he crushed with Joker’s head and then even more at the
marks Joker’s painted lips had left on Bruce’s face and naked torso. Bruce
noticing how she was looking the marks on his exposed torso put on Joker’s
jacket and covered himself.
 “He touched you!” she cried out and motioned to storm at Dolcetto. “He laid
his filthy hands on you! I’m gonna rip that motherfucker with my nails!”
Bruce grabbed her shoulders giving her a tight, respectful smile.
“I’m fine; nothing happened; that woman saved me.”
Selina cocked a disbelieving eyebrow and crossed her arms.
“That woman saved you?” she lolled her head and smiled smugly. “Aren’t you
exaggerating?”
Bruce blinked and shook his head; he couldn’t fool Selina.
“Well...I was on the way of saving myself but she contributed...”
Selina nodded pressing her lips and sighed.
“Saving yourself. We should have done that... I swear I won’t ever follow your
stupid plans again!” she yelled. “I’m gonna stick to you like a mite!”
He smiled to her calmly.
“But the plan did work: everyone is fine, right?” he winked but immediately
lost his playful mood as his confused memory gave him new information. “Mr.
Petrou! Don’t tell me he...”
She hushed him raising her palm.
“He is alright: they operated him and said that he is out of danger” she rolled
her eyes seeing him huffing in relief. “Ugh! You’re unbelievable! I’ll tell
Alfred to spank your ass for the agony you made us suffer!”
“Okay, okay... But now we must get Superman out of there: Joker must have put
Kryptonite in the corridor and in his weakened state...”
He motioned to the building but stopped abruptly because Selina didn’t follow.
Bruce took in her frown.
“What?”
“He figured out where Joker had you and he didn’t inform us...”
He heard her anger; she was feeling as if Superman betrayed them.
“He is under the effect of the substance and...” he lowered his eyes. “He isn’t
himself... Don’t be mad at him... It’s not his fault...”
She rubbed her forehead.
“You always make excuses for him... But the fact remains that because of his
sneaky attitude you could have been...” she sighed unwilling even to utter the
word.
Bruce blinked impatient.
“Selina, as soon as he gets the antidote he’ll regret his actions; he isn’t
himself. This thing weakens and corrupts him.”
However she didn’t seem convinced; Bruce knew that when Selina was dissatisfied
and angry with someone she didn’t change her mind easily.
“You must be taken to the clinic immediately” she said unfazed. “When I figured
out about Dolcetto I called Alfred and both he and Leslie wait there. Tony and
the cops are near: let them save the alien – a little pain will serve him
right!”
Bruce couldn’t believe his friend’s cruelty; she didn’t understand. However he
couldn’t let Clark dying slowly there. He clenched his jaw to her and turned
towards the cabaret.
Selina uncrossed her arms and made a step.
“Where are you going? Alfred and Leslie are in agony!”
“Superman is dying, Selina! He is too weak to bear for much longer the
Kryptonite’s radiation...I’ll go alone if you don’t want to come!”
He began running and Selina growled but followed.
“I swear, buster” she told when caught up with him to the store’s back door “as
soon as Leslie fixes your head I’ll break it myself!”
Bruce chuckled but brought his index finger to his lips to silence her.
“Joker’s thugs are inside and that goes for Joker too: I head butted him and
the woman hit him with a log.”
Selina’s eyes glistened along with a witty smirk on her lips.
“That was THE argument for me to come!”
He smiled and entered the building with Selina scanning the place with a small
device.
“Five thugs in the great hall at the ground level; two unconscious on the
corridor of the upper floor, one man very weak near the two and one unconscious
at Falcone’s office. That last one must be Joker, huh?”
Bruce squinted at the gadget and Selina winked.
“Stark gifts things to me too... Except than that cute little gadget that finds
combinations and fools security systems – I bet he deactivated it after Boston;
it’s dead now…” she sighed and narrowed her eyes. “You told him about
my...extracurricular activities?”
“I believe he figured out either by hearing about the notorious cat – thief or
when you sneaked it when the mission ended.”
They ascended the back stairs to the upper floor. Both of them were so stealthy
that could pass even a dog so Joker’s thugs didn’t suspect anything.
“They have trapped the whole building, the main entrance and the windows apart
from the window in the upper floor and the back door” she whispered.
“The woman who helped me must have deactivated the trap in the back door; as
for the window that was an ambush for Superman” Selina gritted her teeth
remembering Superman’s attitude. “Is Tony flirting with you?” Bruce asked
nonchalant.
Selina gave a mute laugh that despite the darkness Bruce discerned from the
change in her breathes.
“Because he gifts me things? Nah... I think he feels...” she gulped
“obliged...for me being there...” her voice was throaty.
Bruce pressed his lips but didn’t say anything. He ran to the niche where he
had left Clark; the Man of Steel was breathing in rasps and his face was ashen
with fat drops of sweat. His eyes were closed and Bruce thought that he had
fainted yet Clark as soon as felt Bruce’s return opened his eyes which shone
jubilant as if he was seeing the life – giving sun.
Clark was sure that his Star wouldn’t abandon him but on the other hand
preferred him to go to a hospital. He felt completely lifeless yet his hands
clutched desperately Bruce’s neck when the younger man crouched to hug him in
order to support him. It was like his hands were pulled to a powerful magnet.
Bruce brushed Superman’s locks that had stuck to his sweaty forehead.
“I’m here, Kal...You’ll be alright...”
Clark’s smile was happy but flickering.
“You...should…have…gone...to...a...hospital...”
“I’m fine.” He searched for Selina and frowned not finding her there; he rolled
his eyes exasperated.
He put Clark’s hand around his shoulder and clenched his jaw to heave him. He
managed to make him stand although it tired him: Clark’s muscle-bound body was
heavy and Bruce wasn’t at his best. Yet he gritted his teeth, concentrated and
shuffled to Falcone’s office where he knew that Selina had gone.
Clark’s eyes were all the time focused on his Star’s battered, sweaty but so
beautiful face. He could see Bruce’s irritation for the adoration that Clark’s
crystal blue eyes showed and that made him smile. The fact was that albeit his
total weakness he didn’t feel like dying anymore; it was like…a pleasant
paralysis…a happy surrendering…the let go feeling after an orgasm… Oops! He
hoped that Bruce hadn’t noticed the blush over his face.
And indeed Bruce was absorbed in the sight in front of him, sighing.
Catwoman was kicking Joker’s still unconscious body; her teeth were bare and
clenched while her forest green eyes sent flames to the madman. Bruce
remembered bitterly of the night she killed Chill.
“Selina, that’s enough!” he barked yet didn’t manage to completely expel the
pleading.
She raised her feverish eyes to her friend and Bruce saw an angry tigress who
didn’t want to lose her prey.
“Why?” she demanded. “Because of the ‘we-don’t-kick-one-who’s – already-down’
thing? That’s for humans and animals and he doesn’t meet the standards for
either! The bastard dared to lay his filthy hands on you!”
Superman nodded, very comfortable in Bruce’s one armed hug,
“I agree with that!” he offered to receive not one but two annoyed glares not
only from Bruce but also from Catwoman.
“Shut up!” both of them spat.
Yet Bruce was puzzled by the fact that his close proximity hadn’t deteriorated
Clark’s condition.
“We must get him out of here” he nodded to Superman. “Bind Joker to the heater
and go!”
Selina rolled her eyes and growled.
“You always insist on saving them!”
Bruce pressed his lips and Superman felt the deep exhaustion in his Star’s body
which he didn’t manifest.
“I don’t do it for them…” he whispered and Selina closed momentarily her eyes
and set to tie the clown’s hands with the scattered ropes the clown had used to
tie Bruce.
But seeing that Joker’s hands were ungloved Selina was mad because that pervert
was touching Bruce bare handed, so she pressed her 6’’ stilettos to his palm.
She looked challenging her friend.
“What?” she growled. “Nobody touches you and gets away with it!” her teeth
rattled.
She dragged the madman to the heater and bound his hands to the pipe under the
window. Then she rushed to help Bruce with Superman’s load.
They had descended the stairs to the back door when police sirens reached the
building and Clark reluctantly leaving his dreamy state jerked his head.
“Joker has trapped everything with explosives: when police raids the building
or guns begin shooting Dolcettowill explode taking along the neighboring
buildings, the officers, Stark and…us!”
 
Tony was seeing the dark cabaret that till few months ago was vibrating from
activity, lights, music and laughter every night. Now it seemed haunted, giving
the impression that through its derelict gaunt windows you’ll see ghosts.
Ironman closed his eyes to avoid that: only one ghost, the small ghost of his
friend’s child soul screeching the cold walls trying to escape.
He was unable to withhold a deep sigh.
“Sir, the entire building is trapped with explosive material and the triggers
are set on the entrance and the windows; there’s only the back door and one
window at the upper floor that are clear.”
He had kept Jarvis constantly alert in case of another unpleasant surprise and
the AI noticing that he didn’t scan the cabaret offered the information.
“I’ll get inside from the window.”
“I wouldn’t suggest that, sir: any firing of guns could set off the
explosives.”
“Fuck!”
The police was almost there; he would warn them to not open fire but Joker’s
minions would do the damage.
He made a detailed scan of the place: five goons were guarding the building
from outside hidden behind bins that were brought there for that purpose; other
five were in the foyer, two were stirring at the corridor of the first floor.
In what must be Falcone’s office someone was tied in the heater; he used his
elaborate zoom and saw with glee that the bound unconscious man was Joker.
Tony smirked: Bruce had neutralized his kidnapper. However that same
realization created a painful twitch in his guts because once again his friend
was forced to save himself since his best friend had failed him…
But where was Bruce?
As his scan covered the entire building he spotted three figures moving towards
the back door: two men and a woman, one of the men where supported. He zoomed
and sighed in relief seeing Bruce, Selina and…Superman.
He didn’t have time to elaborate on the presence of Superman there and
especially in this state; Selina had alerted him that she discovered where
Joker kept Bruce almost the same time he did.
“Gordon” Commissionaire answered immediately his call, his voice firm as he and
his officers were approaching Dolcetto. “What do you have, Mr. Stark?”
“Stay away from the building till I tell you otherwise; Joker has explosives
everywhere able to blow out the entire neighborhood. Bruce is safe: Batman has
taken care of that. Joker is unconscious yet there are twelve armed men.”
Tony heard Jim’s sigh; the man was relieved that Bruce wasn’t in danger yet he
wanted for all this to end.
“OK, Mr. Stark.”
“Jim, do me a favor and call me Tony…”
 
Bruce remembered the foreign jacket he wore and his eyes flashed.
“Maybe we’re lucky this time…” he smirked and began ransacking the endless
pockets of the cloth.
Superman and Selina stared at him puzzled as his hands were lost inside the
pockets; Clark to ease his effort clenched his hands to Selina though he felt
the woman’s anger.
“You’re heavy metal, huh?” she snapped and rolled her eyes taking in Clark’s
confused gaze. “You’re the Man of Steel – Steel is metal – and obviously you’re
quite heavy so you’re ‘heavy metal’.”
Clark chuckled; he shouldn’t have the mood to chuckle being poisoned by
Kryptonite but Bruce’s presence was soothing. He remembered his thought of
Bruce being that special Kryptonite Tony told him and jeered himself.
“Ouch!” Bruce exclaimed as his finger was pierced by one of the many hidden
blades.
“What?” both his comrades asked.
“It’s crowded there…” he felt a folded piece of paper and gave it to Selina to
continue the search. “Bingo!”
He recovered a small rectangular device with one sole button and a green light
blinking.
“Selina, scan it with your gadget” Bruce told her and she obeyed. “It’s the
detonator; Selina, call Tony and tell him about the explosives and that we have
the detonator: he can tell us how to disable it.”
She shook her head rolling her eyes.
“We haven’t reached the exchanging-phone-numbers point…” she said slyly.
Bruce pressed his lips and gave her the emergency sat number that connected
immediately to Ironman’s communicator.
“Speak, buddy”
Tony’s tired voice sounded relieved because this number was known only to
Bruce. Selina offered her cell phone to Bruce but he looked at it reluctantly
and nodded to the young woman to make the talking; she frowned.
“Sorry to disappoint, handsome” she dragged her words “but it’s Cat…”
“Is he alright?” Tony cut her unable to suppress his worry.
Selina rolled her eyes purging her lips to Bruce disapproving.
“Obviously…Otherwise how could I speak to you in this number? Anyway, the
building is trapped with explosives but we have the detonator so can you…”
Tony understood immediately and scanned the device they held.
“Press the button”
“Are you sure?” Selina asked.
“Is not a trigger; it just activates and deactivates the system of the
explosives like the control of an alarm. Press the button, leave the building
and let the rest to me and the cops. Take Bruce to Leslie’s clinic.”
“Okay, bossy boy…”
She hung up and Bruce stared at her ignoring her curious glance. Selina raised
the gadget dramatically and brought her thumb over it.
“He said to push it…” she shook her head. “I love fireworks” she purged her
lips nonchalant and pushed the button.
They kept their breaths yet nothing happened and the three of them exhaled
simultaneously.
“Fancy that” Selina shrugged one shoulder. “Your friend knows his shit…” she
stressed the ‘your friend’ part watching closely Bruce’s reaction.
His behavior towards Stark was odd and she wanted to find the reason. Yet Bruce
tightened his hold on Superman.
“We must get out of here…”
Selina grabbed Superman’s other side and shuffled to the back door.
“You want that paper you gave me?” she asked Bruce as they got out of Dolcetto.
 
Tony was confused and some bitterness lurked in his guts: why Bruce didn’t talk
to him and asked Selina to do it? He shook his head: you’re an idiot, Stark! He
suffers a concussion and for hours he was forced to endure Joker; it’s normal
to act a bit strange. But Selina will take care of him now: she was always
there for him; the only reliable…
He pointed the upper side of his wrists to Falcone’s cabaret and roamed it with
explosive defusing rays because he didn’t want to risk a random ignition.
He smirked and alerted Jim to start the raid. While he demolished a part of the
wall to enter the ground level causing the shocked stares of the goons.
“Hello, lads” his cheery voice greeted them. “A wicked night for party, huh?”
One of them recovered first from the surprise and pointed his gun to Ironman
who sent a microwave beam from his shoulder that melted the metal in the goons’
hands. Immediately he hit the man with a stun ray and as the thug flew to the
opposite wall, Ironman repeated the shots to the other four who showered him
with useless bullets before ending up in the same wall.
The police sirens rapidly became louder along with the sound of screeching
tires and the thugs guarding the building from outside began shooting at the
cars.
“I’m coming, fellas…” Ironman walked to the foyer.
 
“Joker has prepared a hit…” Bruce said thoughtful looking at the paper he had
found in the clown’s jacket; it was a map of the city.
They had covered some distance from Dolcetto but the sounds of the battle
reached them. Bruce yanked his head towards the sounds of blasts like a hound
eager to catch its prey. Selina noticed and coughed leading them in an alley.
“My bike is here” she said and let Superman in order to drag her bike from
behind the bins.
Bruce touched Clark who was feeling better to the wall and studied the map:
there was a line that followed the route of Gotham’s underground. The madman
obviously planned to hit the underground if anything went wrong and he lost his
captive.
Selina returned and took Superman’s other arm giving the signal to Bruce to
hoist him from the other side. They reached the small but powerful bike.
“Well, boys, we’ll be a little crammed but I don’t want any naughty thoughts…”
Selina said slyly.
However Bruce’s body tensed and the young woman noticed and narrowed her eyes.
Bruce cast a meaningful glance at her and she understood. Soon she could hear
the approaching man too.
“Hehe! It must been a wicked ball masque: a cat, a superman and a…what?” Bruce
hurried to hide his face in Clark’s chest. “Now, boys and girl, gimme
everything you got an’ we can continue the party…”
The cold, drunk voice came from behind them; the crook must have entered the
alley from the other entrance. They heard the click of the gun that was
pointing them.
However Selina shook her head and rolled her eyes.
“No way, Jose…” she said seductively and jolted her leg in a back kick that
found the mugger on the chin and sent him flying to the wall where he crushed
and collapsed slowly down.
Selina shrugged and huffed.
“I don’t believe these people! Bruce, help me lift Superman to the bike; better
to have him between us in case he falls…”
“I can hold on…” Clark offered.
Yet Bruce was absorbed in the map and both of his partners looked at him.
“Bruce, we must go to the clinic!” Selina said impatiently.
Bruce folded the map, shoved it to his pocket and supported Clark to mount the
bike under Selina’s frown.
“Take him to the clinic, Selina; Alfred knows what to do” he said holding her
shoulders. “I’m fine. I’ll go back to make sure that Joker is under custody and
inform Tony about his plans!”
“No!” she cried out. “Leslie and Alfred wait for you sick from worry; you want
to kill them?”
Bruce closed his eyes irritated and Clark slumped on the bike turned his eyes
on him.
“Selina is right, Bruce; you can alert Tony for Joker’s plans from the clinic.
You need medical treatment too!”
But the intense of the effort made Superman lose his balance and Selina rushed
to catch and lift him. When they looked again the spot where Bruce stood was
empty and their friend nowhere.
“Ugh!” Selina gritted her teeth and punched her bike.
Clark closed his eyes.
“Go after him; I’ll be fine…”
Yet Selina mounted the bike behind him.
“There’s no use: nobody can find Bruce when he doesn’t want to. I’ll take you
to the clinic and then I’ll return to Dolcetto.” She replied determinedly and
ignited the engine.
 
Bruce watched from the fire escape of a neighboring building the cops dragging
half conscious thugs out of the cabaret; he narrowed his eyes trying to find
Joker among them. He grinded his teeth: as he feared he managed to flee during
the battle. Jim Gordon kicked the tires of his car.
He sensed it long before he heard the subtle sound yet he was indecisive to
leave.
“Little guy, you intend on getting on our nerves? Why are you here and not in
the clinic?” Tony’s voice was light though Bruce could hear his frustration
from Joker’s escape.
He turned slowly to face his friend. Ironman had deactivated the face plate to
reveal Tony’s beaming face; it hurt Bruce to see his friend’s benign, glowing
eyes.
Tony couldn’t fight it any longer; he ran to his friend and hugged him. He
distanced a bit realizing that he was in armor and that Bruce was in a fragile
state.
“Mmmm…Did I hurt you?” he blushed and noticed for the first time the purple
jacket of Joker.
His friend shook his head in denial.
“Joker plans to hit the metro” he said instead of answering and remembering the
question: “No, you didn’t…”
Tony didn’t like how Bruce sounded yet the younger man opened the map and
showed him the madman’s designs.
“Okay, little guy” Tony said soothingly. “I’ll handle it with the police. But
first I’ll get you to Leslie’s and Alfred’s good hands.”
Bruce however gritted his teeth and his eyes flashed. Tony frowned puzzled but
before saying anything his friend gave an awesome jolt and landed on the
opposite rooftop.
“Damn!’’ Tony surged behind him yet upon landing Bruce wasn’t there. “Come on,
buddy; you know you can’t evade Ironman, or…can you?”
However his scan of the building didn’t help; it was an inhabited multi-
apartment building and there were too many human bodies to discern Bruce among
them more so since his cunning friend didn’t run.
“Why are you doing this, Bruce?!” he yelled frustrated and flew to the alley
between that building and the neighboring one hoping that Bruce went there.
Bruce emerged from the shadows slowly restoring his minimized vitals – Ironman
systems could catch normal vitals, vitals showing illness and no vitals but
couldn’t catch subliminal vitals. He jumped to the rooftop from where he came
and then to the alley where a manhole would lead him to his emergency cave to
change.
 
“We broadcast footage from the arrest of Joker’s thugs after GCPD’s successful
raid under Commissionaire Gordon and Ironman’s assistance.”
The live images showed handcuffed thugs shoved into police cars while the
cameraman chose to shot some images of the cabaret’s main entrance where cops
constantly moved in and out.
“Joker was keeping the Wayne heir at Dolcetto, the notorious cabaret of the
late Carmine Falcone and the place that for eighteen years hosted the martyrdom
of Gotham’s little Prince. Unfortunately, the dangerous insane criminal managed
to escape and we saw Ironman launching to search for him as well as most of the
police cars. The good news, Mike, is that Bruce Wayne is safe. Our sources
state that Batman saved him from Joker just before the raid began…”
Talia smirked and cocked an eyebrow to Bane.
“I was sure that Bruce would get out of this by himself, even injured.”
Bane hated that smugness in her voice because it was for that brat and not for
him.
 
Selina’s bike stopped at the alley behind Leslie’s free clinic; the
establishment was fully restored yet the old secret door was still there. She
just put her heels on the ground and the door opened Alfred and Leslie rushing
to the bike.
“Where’s Bruce?” Leslie asked frowning.
Selina knew that the same agony in Leslie’s voice was beating in Alfred’s heart
though the polite man helped her silently to dismount Clark.
“He…went back to make sure that they caught Joker. Superman was under
Kryptonite’s radiation and Bruce told me that you know what to do.”
“It’s not so bad” Clark intervened.
“We’ll see that, young man” Leslie snapped sternly and turned to Selina. “How
was he?”
Selina lolled her head.
“He had bruises and blood but externally he looked quite good” she sighed “Yet
you never know, right?” she cast her worried eyes on the doctor.
Leslie crossed her arms.
“He needs to be examined not to roam the city in his condition!”
Selina looked at the pale, tired face of the silent Alfred and gave Superman’s
other arm to Leslie. The young woman patted Alfred’s upper arm.
“I’ll bring that brat back, Alfred; I promise!” she gave him a tight reassuring
smile and Alfred answered with one of his.
“I know, Miss Kyle…”
She nodded, mounted the bike and turned on the engine disappearing in a
roaring.
Leslie turned to Superman.
“Let’s get you inside” her voice was firm despite her boiling emotions.
“Can you heavily sedate him into not sneaking away?” Clark inquired shyly and
Leslie smiled.
“He has a severe concussion, remember?”
“We do yet Master Bruce forgets it…” Alfred answered stoic as they entered the
building.
 
Batman studied Joker’s map; he was still following the caves’ complicated
system because it was the closest to the subway. It was obvious that Joker
would hit the entire subway tube but how? He couldn’t have such gargantuan
quantity of explosives nor the ability to cover the kilometers the underground
veined.
A huge red smile was scribbled on the central station of the subway and
suddenly it occurred to him: laugh gas. The central wasn’t too far from where
he was right now and the caves didn’t have traffic to stale him because on the
surface it might still be night but Gotham was a city that never slept.
Selina’s old bike roared and sped forward; he had made some adjustments to the
old bike in case he had to use her instead of the bike Lucius made him.
He halted the bike exactly at the spot where an old, long forgotten manhole led
up to the central underground station. During the road there he figured out how
Joker would hit simultaneously the entire subway: through the ventilation pipes
that began from there to ramify everywhere.
He activated his forearm scanner and immediately the pattern of the pipes
emerged. Something blinked exactly at the main body of the big pipe where an
alarming mass stood.
Batman pressed his lips and used the manhole to get to the station. Once inside
it was easy enough to access the ventilation system; he jolted and opened the
big tile that covered the central huge pipe. Batman slithered inside satisfied
that the small space was isolated.
There were at least one hundred laugh gas bombs piled and an explosive bomb
connected with them. Batman clenched his jaw: Joker would detonate the
explosive bomb and the blast would free the laughing gas channeling it all
around the underground with the boost of the explosion.
He opened a compartment from his belt and glued a tiny rectangular gadget to
the bomb which immediately stopped blinking. Batman smiled: after the bomb
situation in the Opera House Lucius manufactured this tiny miracle that stopped
the functioning of every explosive device. And then he had just to cut the
wires and remove the bomb.
He called Jim from his wristwatch-cell phone.
“Joker has piled a hundred laughing gas bombs at the central pipe of the
subway’s ventilation; it’s at the central station. He had an explosive device
attached planning to trigger it and free the gas all over the subway. I defused
the bomb but you need to send experts to take away the bombs without much
fuss.”
“I’m sending right away; B, thank you.”
He hung up before Jim finished his thanks and he jumped out of the pipe. Now he
had to find Joker. He headed for the exit of the station when he heard it from
the TV one of the guards was watching.
“Someone took my mate away from me” the nasal voice echoed so serious that was
terrifying. “No time for jokes; this city will pay the price and I’ll watch as
everyone will see the world as I see it: comedy in the center of tragedy.”
Batman nodded: dying from laughter…
 “Unless…What is mine is returned to me! You have 30 minutes to bring my baby
in front of Wayne Tower…”
And in thirty minutes the first waves of commuters would be inside the trains
to their work so Joker would have killed hundreds of people.
 
“I finished scanning the west wing of the subway” Tony told Jim Gordon.
“Everything clear; I’m going for the east side.”
“Tony, Batman called: he found out Joker’s plans and difused the explosive
device. Joker had stuck bombs with laughing gas in the subway’s central
ventilation pipe. Bomb experts are heading there to dispose of the bombs.”
“Batman…” Tony muttered thinking how Bruce avoided him on the rooftop.
“Tony?”
“That’s great news, Jim. Now let’s kick that bastard’s ass!”
“Sir?” Jarvis’ voice disrupted his connection with Gordon. “Joker on TV.”
“Give me image and sound.”
 
Joker stood on the round shaped rooftop of the building opposite Wayne Tower;
he wore a different purple jacket not as fancy as the lost one. The air was
blowing and the first light blue of the dawn colored the sky.
He stared at the Wayne Tower and then at his wristwatch with the face of the
clown from the movie “It”. If they didn’t return Bru-cey he’d kill hundreds of
useless Gothamites. He smirked. Batman in his haste to take Bruce away from
Dolcettohad left him unconscious and tied to the heater believing that it’d be
easy for the cops to capture him.
His shrieking laughter filled the cloudy sky like a bad omen as he recounted
how he woke up to find his wrists bound to the pipe and how he dislocated the
pipe freeing his hands. Having the ease of moving, it was piece of cake to cut
the straps with a letter opener forgotten on Falcone’s old desk and escape from
the window. He rubbed between his fingers the straps and then sniffed them;
these straps bound Bru-cey’s wrists and his scent was still there…
He closed his eyes in delight: even if they chose to sacrifice citizens instead
of giving Bruce he’d get his baby otherwise to finish their first night…
A crushing weight fell on him sinking him to the concrete and before he
realized what had happened a powerful fist began plummeting his face: mouth,
nose, eyes…whatever.
“HEHEHEHEHE!!!! BATSY!!! I was afraid that youuuu wouldn’t play with me now
that you got Bru-cey… Ouuuuuch!” Batman’s fist connected with his mouth. “You
shouldn’t hit me like that: we could have Bru-cey together…” Batman stopped the
bombing and stared at him. “Better…” Joker lolled his head. “I’m not used to
sharing myyyyy things buuut for a triiio with a tough guy…rodent…whatever… like
you I’d make an exemption to the rule… Besides, Bru-cey can get two dicks at
the same time…”
Batman clenched his jaw and punched him lolling his head to the side.
“HUHUHUHUHU! That’s whaaaat I call perpetual energy source! HUR…” a blow to his
ribs caught the word in his lungs. “I guess…” he coughed “you don’t like trios,
huh? Tell me something…” he winked “between girls: you fucked Bruce after you
took him from me? C’me on, kiss and tell…”
Batman grabbed him from the lapels and heaved him upwards.
“I’m not like you!” he rasped gritting his teeth.
Joker gave his Cheshire smile broader than ever.
“You are, dear, you are; from a different ankle buuuut you are…” he squinted.
“Why you didn’t fuck sweet little Bruce? I had him wet and ready, mooooaning to
be stuffed…” he roared. “It’s been four months since he was last fuuuucked” he
narrowed his eyes and licked his lips “the boy begs for a big fat dick…”
Batman punched him so hard that sent him few feet away and Joker gathered his
legs and jolted upright, shaking his head and hitting his ear to wake up his
buzzing head.
Joker saw his opponent clenching his fists and sniffing like a bull ready to
attack. He raised his index finger and shook it warningly, pulling out of his
jacket a detonator.
“You oooowe me my best jacket, you thief!” he hissed angrily but immediately
lightened. “Look what I haaaave here…” he sang. “If I press this buuuutton” he
spat a little blood “something veeeeery tragic will happen in a comic way… So
give me back my wife or else… KAAAAABOOOOM!”
Police sirens were fast approaching and Batman could hear the low sound of
Ironman’s motors muffled by the news’ helicopter hovering above them. He yanked
his head upwards casting his glowing glare at Joker, grinding his teeth.
“You’re going to Arkham…” he growled and charged so rapidly that Joker didn’t
see what hit him.
“And youuuu” Joker shouted as he was tackled to the cement “just” he twisted
his hand in Batman’s grip “killed huuuundreds!” he head butted his opponent and
though Batman wore his cowl the impact stunned him for a second.
The clown found the moment he was looking for and pressed the button of the
trigger.
“BOOOOOOOM!!!”
Yet nothing shattered the dawn’s atmosphere apart from the sirens that were
coming from the street bellow and the helicopter that was taping them. Joker’s
eyes widened for an instant; the device he connected with the gas bombs had
plastic explosive enough for a spectacular blow…that didn’t come.
“Hehehe…” Batman was glaring at him with his lips pressed in a tight line. “You
saw the map and figured out… Who could have guessed that you’ll steal my
precious jacket? Nooooot even me! Oh! C’me on, suuuugar, crack me a smile: you
won after all… Do you want meeee to give you something to celebrate since Bru-
cey doesn’t turn you on? Huhuhuhuhu!”
Batman began punching him again until Ironman’s landing took him out of his
reverie. He jumped to his feet gazing at Joker who was still conscious and
smiling jeeringly at him. He wanted to hit him again but he had to get out of
there a disorganizing drumming filling slowly his skull.
“Batman!” Tony yelled as his friend ran to the edge of the rooftop.
Batman halted for a second and turned slightly his head towards Ironman but
immediately jumped to the void. Ironman launched to follow him yet he caught
with the corner of his lenses Joker slowly rising and grudgingly returned to
land in front of him.
The madman giggled, wiping his bloodied mouth.
“He is a bit xeno-phobic our friend! Why doooon’t you…”
Tony didn’t let him finish; he was sick of that man. He blasted him with his
stun-rays and the criminal fell like a log to the ground.
Jim rushed to the rooftop with his gun stretched and his officers following.
The Commissionaire lowered his gun seeing Joker knocked out.
“Keep him sedated” Tony said to Jim “till I make a cell appropriate for him. I
don’t want him to bother ever again Bruce!”
Jim Gordon and Montoya at his heels nodded and Ironman launched searching for
his friend.
He roamed the area scrutinizing the buildings and especially the alleys yet
after ten minutes he landed disappointed. He deactivated the face plate to have
the cold air of the dawn refreshing his hot face; the sweat was really
tormenting as the feeling of hopelessness. There was no chance to find Bruce if
his friend didn’t want.
A bike halted behind him and he turned to see Catwoman.
“Don’t lose your courage, handsome. I know where he is…”
 
Batman had returned to the caves heading to his first operating cave where he
had left his torn clothes.
The bike was in full speed; he halted abruptly entering the cavity that hosted
his first steps as Batman and dismounted strenuously, the day’s exhaustion
finally catching up with him. As the rush of adrenaline ebbed away his body
felt like being submerged to the ocean with concrete built around his feet.
It was as if everything he had cordoned off to a secluded area of his mind in
order to be able to act was boiling all these hours and now broke the fence and
spurt out carrying away everything it found on its path…
Every single wound he got from the last hours throbbed persistently; the crack
on the side of his head crying out loud and piercing his flickering mind: he
could discern every tiny stuck shred of glass to the wound  from the bottle he
was hit with.
His forehead was drumming constantly, hot from the swelling and possibly the
fever. The bruises from Joker’s slaps burned and he could even feel the mild
sting where the clown had whipped him with his belt. And his anus gave a shy
pang where the dildo had touched.
The confusion and the dizziness full returned along with the mist around and
inside his head; a wave of nausea hit his stomach making his heart kick
frightened. He tried to breathe slowly and calmly to control his heartbeat but
the cowl suffocated him. He moved his hands to pull it off but the shadow in
his head was so thick that he forgot how to do it.
His legs stopped being solid and he fell on his knees a white hot spear
impaling his head in a repeating pace that followed his heartbeat. He clutched
his head and gritted his teeth; he had to stand and change his clothes. He
should dress and go to Alfred and Leslie who definitely were sick with worry
for him.
“This is a lie, you know it and you’re just fooling yourself with their
supposed worry!”
***** Chapter 46 *****
Selina halted her bike in an alley not very far from Dolcetto and dismounted.
Ironman landed just a second after and withdrew his face plate. He looked
around and followed Selina in her search.
“Are you sure it’s here? I mean we’re far from Wayne Tower; you think that he
came back here to go to his cave?”
Selina clutched her waist and lolled her head backwards.
“I didn’t say that Bruce came here” she retorted continuing her search. “He
knows many manholes that lead to the ancient burrows and to Gotham’s caves; I,
however, know only that one…”
She kicked the debris and garbage that covered the metal plug and squatted to
lift it. Tony rushed there to help. A dark gap stared at them and Selina
smirked.
“I knew it.”
Tony gazed at her.
“You were always there for him; he shared everything with you even his
underground lair.”
The young woman sensed the regret in Tony’s voice; his inner turmoil for not
being with Bruce all these years.
“He only took me there once” she said dryly. “And…I wasn’t always there for
him: the tortures and rapes were only for him…”
Tony touched her upper arm as she made to dive in. Selina looked him puzzled.
“Don’t underestimate the meaning of your presence…” he shook his head and
Selina thought that he was too serious for the frivolous playboy. “If you
weren’t there I don’t know if he would have made it…”
She pressed her lips together and yanked her head.
“He’d have survived anyway” she cocked an eyebrow “he is a very strong boy, you
know.” Her eyes pierced Tony’s. “And I’d prefer I never had met Bruce if that
meant that he’d have grown up happy with his parents.”
She jumped inside and Tony followed her down gazing around as soon as he
landed. He was awed and appalled at the same time with the environment which
for so many years offered the only escape to his friend.
Selina looked ahead and nodding set off determined; however she halted
immediately when Tony followed her. She turned to him regretting what she had
to say but sure that it was the best after the odd way Bruce was reacting
towards Tony the last hours.
“It’s better if you stayed here…” her voice was throaty yet firm. “I don’t
know…”
Tony bit his lip and nodded understanding what she meant. He gave the most
lifeless smile of his life.
“You’re right” he sighed. “In his sensitive condition it’d be better to see
only you.” He took a small, button-like thing from his armor and gave it to
her. “Take that and press it if something goes awry: it will give me your exact
coordinates even underground. I’ll be here waiting.”
Selina took it and smiled to him patting his arm.
“Everything will be fine, Tony…”
He nodded not totally convinced and Selina left him to be enveloped by the
thick shadows ahead.
Tony rested his back on the wall and closed his eyes. He felt so tired and so
drained of life while he should be happy that Bruce was safe at least from
Joker. Alright, he had a serious reason to be worried since his friend suffered
a concussion and who knows which other things. Yet he knew that his turmoil had
more to do with himself.
And he was selfish! Because Bruce was suffering and he just cared about the
cold way his friend treated him: once again he was thinking only himself. He
deactivated his helmet and ruffled his hair so hard that he ended up pulling
them: inside Falcone’s office was a bed where Joker had his friend and
scattered around the floor was every kind of rag with headlines covering his
outrageous useless life the years Bruce was captive. He punched the wall
roaring.
“Stupid! Idiot! Stupid! Why you didn’t…”
He couldn’t even utter it because it would burn his throat. He had left his
little friend rot in Falcone’s hands while he was partying and wasted in
orgies. He was sure that Bruce’s avoiding behavior was caused by this… That
madman tortured his friend’s wounded mind using also drugs: he had found the
syringes and gave them to Leslie for analysis. But it was the very true
uncaring old behavior of his that made Bruce’s psychological suffering worse.
He touched his forehead to the wall. He always knew that the fact he didn’t
search for Bruce would come over some time and bite him hard; and it came now
that he once again failed to save him from a new tormentor. Bruce’s generosity
couldn’t save Tony now that his friend was under a head injury.
He yanked his head upwards. The only thing that mattered was Bruce returning
and recovering and…if his buddy didn’t stand his presence anymore, he’d spare
him…
Tony sighed remembering how happy they were just a few hours ago at Martha’s
Park and his guts twisted.
 
Selina lowered her night vision goggles as she walked deeper in the sewers. She
might be Catwoman and see quite well during night yet technological help was
much appreciated.
It must be here somewhere… She remembered the place with the distant roaring of
the sewage waters and the stale air: it was a forgotten spot of the sewers
where only some rats dwelled.
There! Where the cement ended giving its place to a void.
She jumped and kneeled on the wet stone. The grating was so rusty that it
didn’t look like metal anymore; it had the same appearance with the stone as
rich moss had covered it. Selina dragged it and a rectangular opening was
revealed; she felt the same chilling as the first time she laid eyes on the
awaiting dark underneath.
“What?”
Bruce had told her smiling mockingly but always warmly.
“I thought that cats didn’t fear the dark…” he jeered and jumped. “The sure
thing is that bats don’t…” he sang from the depths the hole led to.
Selina clenched her jaw as she had done then and jumped. She landed on her
heels, righted her body and inhaled deeply. The clean air down there surprised
her exactly as that first time. She began walking determined looking the stone
walls of the cavities and the arches that were created from stalactites.
“Isn’t it awesome?” Bruce’s excitement was vibrating in his voice though it
wasn’t the first time he went there.
She looked at his eyes and their shine made her somewhat clenched heart loosen;
it was obvious that her friend loved that creepy and claustrophobic albeit
gargantuan place and was excited to show it to her. She was feeling like the
entire Gotham was going to fell on her head or a nasty creature would jump them
at any time.
Bruce chuckled careless and took her hand in his.
“These caves are here for thousands years and supported Gotham through history
and I wander here for…” he thought “eleven years and nothing attacked me.” He
laughed. “Actually, the bats are extremely hospitable…”
Selina frowned; he couldn’t have read her mind could he?
“I felt the same the first time I found myself here…” he smiled taking in her
puzzlement.
A flock of bats flew around them from a small cavity behind a large stalactite
and Selina squatted afraid that the flying rodents would hurt her. Bruce hadn’t
followed her down and she raised her eyes that widened in awe: her friend stood
with his hands loose at his sides; he had his eyes closed in an expression
filled with contentment and breathed in complete ease as the bats flew around
him as if welcoming him.
Selina shook her head trying to clarify if what she was seeing was true and it
was… Bruce was one of the bats, their leader and she recalled all the rumors
that filled Gotham’s shady streets about a huge man – bat who punishes the bad
guys and saves the innocent; she was laughing with their terror and especially
with the fact that nobody could imagine that this creature of the night wasn’t
a ghost or a demon but Falcone’s toy who the mobster showed off and tossed here
and there.
As the wave of bats ebbed away Bruce turned to her unaware that she had
squatted. He smiled.
“I told you that they are very friendly!”
“Rrright…” she mumbled crooking her mouth in disbelief.
They began walking and Selina was impressed with what she saw.
“It’s an entire world…” she whispered.
Bruce nodded gazing around with love.
“Bats led me here…” he said proud.
Selina rolled her eyes.
“C’me on, Bruce…”
He turned to her and pierced her with a serious stare.
“It’s the truth, Selina; bats were keeping me company all these years in their
way and then one night…” he furrowed his brow “I think I was twelve years old
but…I’m not sure…Days and years were melt together…” he lowered his eyes and
Selina’s heart kicked in her chest because she wanted to see the enthusiasm and
the shine radiating from him again.
She touched his forearm and smiled when he looked at her.
“What happened that night?”
“Falcone with Chill were busy so I was taken too early to my cage. I couldn’t
sleep though tired so I watched the bats: most of them had already left and I
always wondered how they did it; you know, leaving and coming back... And then
the last bats detached from the ceiling and flew behind the stalactite in the
middle of the cage and disappeared. I crawled there and I saw it: a crack in
the wall hidden by the stalactite, it seemed very small but I searched it with
my hand and it was rather wide. I thought that it might fit me as well but that
night I didn’t dare to try. I was too scared…And then one night when they
tossed me there after I finished my…work…” Selina understood that he didn’t
want to tell her that Falcone and Chill raped him every night and played along.
“I decided to try and if I stuck there and died” he pressed his lips and
shrugged “big deal! But I didn’t. It was a burrow and I slithered and I found
myself in a huge cave that opened to other caves. And the bats were there
flying around me as if they were happy I finally followed them.”
Selina nodded smiling hesitantly; caves weren’t the nicest place for a kid but
still they had offered Bruce a haven. She followed him through the stone
surface.
“You use my bike down here?”
“Yes; the surface is stony and a bit steep but the bike can move with ease;
it’s wide enough for a bike.”
Selina pulled her goggles on her head.
What surprised her was that down there the light was enough and you didn’t need
a flashlight.
“I expected it to be very dark…” she said brushing the unused flashlight in her
hand.
Bruce halted and looked at the flashlight.
“I should have told you.”
“How?”
He shrugged.
“Lucius told me that the minerals cause that.”
“He knows about the underground caves?”
“He used to explore them when he was young.”
Selina sighed and they began walking again.
“C’me on, spill it…” Bruce mumbled sensing her hesitance.
“Do you trust that man, Bruce?”
He nodded.
“He was the only one that tried to stop Falcone from getting the control of my
dad’s company. And Alfred trusts him too…” he lifted a shoulder laughing.
“And…I’m still alive, right? He could have alerted Falcone for my escapees and
my plans to take my mom’s fortune. But he settled things so that our access to
the money will be easier and…he provided me with the suit, weaponry and
gadgets.”
“The air is clear…” she pointed satisfied from Bruce’s explanation.
“Hm. There’s an underground river and some small lakes throughout Gotham and
some holes that reach the surface in the fields; I think they do the trick.”
He stretched his hand and showed her an arch shaped by two stalactites.
“We’re here. Come!”
They passed the arch and Selina felt a shudder entering a small cave that was
definitely the bat’s lair – Bruce’s suit was placed erect in a corner like a
scarecrow only far more scary with the hollow eye-holes looking gloomy and
threatening while the empty lower part of the face seemed ready to throw fire
at you like a broken ancient cursed scull; certainly the surroundings added to
the effect.
In a flat rock lay a lap top and Selina smiled to her friend.
“I see that you really love these things.”
“Your lap top opened my eyes; thank you for letting me use it in the small
meeting apartment: I have a soft spot for it.”
Selina shrugged.
“I guess I’m rather old fashioned concerning tech…” she retorted and brushed
the key of the apartment in her pocket that Bruce had given her.
The building was an inhabited condo and although she had witnessed Bruce’s
skills still was afraid that someone could see him and tell Falcone or that
Ra’s’ spies would discover them.
She walked to a niche covered by multi – shaped and sized stalactites and saw a
small trunk. Bruce followed her and she raised an inquiring eyebrow.
“Some supplies Lucius gave me; first aids and forensic tools.”
Selina smiled.
“You’re a detective then?”
Bruce shook his head and shrugged.
“I aspire to be; I read interesting things on the net and…I improvise.”
Selina looked around sighing: the landscape was familiar but down there things
were alike – stalactites, stalagmites, arches, cavities, flat surface replaced
by curves. And she came only once down there. She had immense trust to her
orientation skill yet…maybe she was…lost?
 
“Who are you?” Bruce called to the cave, Batman’s menacing growl flickering.
“I can be anyone” a jeering voice answered.
Bruce made a huge effort to move his head around but he didn’t see anything
only glowing stony walls and even if someone was there his sight was so misty
that he doubted whether he’d discern him.
“Maybe I’m the one whom you met the first time you came down here…” he taunted
him and Bruce saw himself no more than twelve years goggling around.
It was the first time he slithered through the long natural slide and landed on
his butt; for an instance the cold grip of fear tried to catch him yet the way
the bats tittered reassured him. His flying friends had always that soothing
effect on him.
He stood and brushed his aching butt as he made the first hesitant steps on the
steep surface of what he later labeled as the central great hall’.
He realized that the place wasn’t dark as he had feared; there was a dirty,
brownish light that sometimes gave some colored glow. He rubbed his tired eyes
with his small fists: there was a hunched figure in a rock. Bruce was scared;
if someone told Falcone he left his cell his master was going to punish him. He
turned his back ready to run back.
“Four years were enough for you to forget me? Bruce…”
It was his father’s voice and he halted abruptly on his heels. He wanted to
turn but he knew that it wasn’t true because his daddy had died and dead people
didn’t return no matter how much you beg them to…
His exhausted heart kicked needingly in his ribs pushing him to go back to his
daddy’s voice and defeated he walked hesitantly to the figure stopping two
steps before him.
The figure having heard him turned slowly and Bruce gasped: it was his daddy as
he last saw him the night Falcone killed him. He lowered his head: a lie, it
couldn’t be: his mind created it but it was so good to deny it...
His ‘daddy’ stroked his chin with one finger and yanked gently his head.
“Open your eyes, Bruce: you don’t want to see me again?” he could hear the
smile in his voice along with a playful complain. “Don’t you remember when I
was making you “fly” in the Manor’s grounds?”
He opened his eyes and tears rushed all over his face: his daddy was with him
again! Yet he couldn’t laugh due to the burning ball in his throat that sent
violent sobs from his lungs to the emptiness of the caves.
And then his ‘daddy’ dragged him to his arms and squeezed him bringing his head
to rest in his chest. Fingers combed his filthy locks.
“This isn’t a place for a little Prince…” he whispered sniffing the boy’s hair.
Bruce shook his head in denial without leaving the nest of his daddy’s chest.
“I’m not a Prince…” he sobbed as his life in Falcone’s hands flooded his mind.
“But you’re still a kid and kids shouldn’t wander the earth’s guts.”
Bruce yanked his head and looked his daddy’s face behind a water wall.
“I’m not a kid anymore…”
His ‘daddy’ cupped his face with both hands and brought his sapphire blue eyes
on the boy’s teary eyes.
“Then what are you, Bruce?”
Bruce wanted to give an answer but there wasn’t any; he wanted to say that he
was nothing yet it wasn’t true: being nothing was good. It didn’t have pain or
shame or…all the things they were doing to him. He wished he was nothing. He
began trembling, a new wave of sobs torturing his chest.
His father’s face was painfully beautiful exactly as he remembered it from the
good days, the days they played together at the Manor’s grounds with his mom or
when he was teaching him medical stuff. But what he was seeing was a lie…
“You live here?” he asked with his voice shaking uncontrollably; he wanted to
stretch the lie, to lengthen the presence of this fake ‘daddy’. “Is mom here
too? She’ll come?” hope was vibrating his words that mixed with his sobs – he
wanted to see her again even if she was a lie too.
“Why you don’t call me ‘daddy’, Bruce?”
The lie caressed his messy locks and it was too much for Bruce’s aching heart:
it brought him pain as much as happiness: as the happiness increased so did the
pain.
“Because I know you’re not my daddy…” he cried and sank his head in the lie’s
chest.
And then the caves echoed from laughter; his father’s laughter that became
something completely foreign, a mean, jeering, cruel laughter and Bruce slumped
on the stone floor alone, crying both because his ‘daddy’ was only a lie and
because even that lie ended.
The cruel tittering continued as long as his crying and then Bruce supported
his body on his left hand and stood on his knees still unwilling to force his
body on his feet; his heart was once again broken and he was drained of
courage.
Suddenly he listened to the familiar sound, the loved sound of hundreds of
small, velvet wings and his friends were all around him chirping desperately as
if urging him to not give up: to stand up because they were real, not a cruel
lie and they will be always with him.
And Bruce stood clenching his teeth and still sobbing from the effort and he
brushed his friends’ wings before beginning the hard way back to the Hell
casting fleeting glances to the rock hoping that he’ll see again that beautiful
lie and promising that he’ll return whenever he could. Because there was his
Heaven, the only place he could have a reflection of his daddy and maybe his
mommy even a phony one…
The caves dissolved to Bruce’s horror and reshaped to make Falcone’s office.
No! He wanted to scream yet he didn’t dare as he stood with his master’s
squinted eyes glowering at him and Chill behind him.
“Strip!” the Grey Wolf ordered and Bruce didn’t raise his eyes from the floor;
he was used to hear that word those almost two years he lost his parents and
became that man’s property.
It was difficult to get his clothes off with only one hand especially when his
master and the Vulture were grunting impatiently making his heartbeat frantic.
Thankfully, his old, filthy rag of a shirt had only one remaining button
allowing the freezing cold attacking him from everywhere but in this case
making it easier to unbutton it and pushing it with his sole hand from the
shoulders to drop to the floor.
The loose pants were always the easier part as they were oversized needing only
a slide push to slide down his skinny short legs and since his master decided
that he didn’t need any underwear he stood completely naked in front of them
wondering why they liked so much that spectacle. However as many times as he
had repeated the same thing the shiver running his back was always there.
He sensed Chill’s thrilled breath before the giant grabbed him from the arms
and lifted him slightly; Falcone must have ordered him with a nod.
He knew that resisting was stupid and only worsening things so he kept his
mouth shut and his limbs immobile until Chill put him on the big table at which
point once again panic clouded his thought and he began twitching.
“Please, no! Please, please, please! I was a good boy!” he felt stupid as he
uttered these because they never had any result but still he hoped that maybe
this time…
The punch crushing his head to the table answered him that indeed he was
stupid; the taste of copper nauseated him as the blood dripped from his tore
lip.
Chill brushed his hand satisfied from his work and stretched the boy’s
surrendered hand to the corner to fasten it to the rope there. Bruce closed his
eyes discouraged as the giant ended binding his legs stretched wide to the
table’s corners.
He was spread on his back so he could see Falcone coming, his insides twirling
panicked but his limbs unable to move. He felt the mobster’s hand pawing his
breast resting at his nipple to rub it crudely between his fingers while his
other hand did the same thing to his other breast.
Bruce whined because it felt like his master wanted to squash his nipples.
“His teats are very small and so soft like butter” Falcone told sniggering to
his thug.
“His weenie is like lace; short an’ thin, boss, but it seems too soft as his
littl’ balls.”
Falcone left his nipples and Bruce inhaled hastily because till then his breath
had been caught in his lungs. However he gasped desperately when his genitals
felt like being crushed inside a greasy, sweaty hand that he knew too well.
“I know his goodies; I watch them grow…” he sniggered “though I doubt whethe’
they’ll ‘come any bigger. Do ya like that, bastardo?” he squeezed both Bruce’s
penis and balls and his pelvis jerked upwards as much as the binding permitted.
Bruce whimpered.
“Please, sir… It hurts…”
Falcone laughed and slapped the boy’s genitals.
“I know, ya fool! For that I do it!”
Both men gave loud, horrible laughs and Falcone retreated to his desk returning
holding something. Bruce was already sweaty and sobbing trying to sniff to keep
his mucus from running yet when his master showed him what he held he gave up
every effort shaking his head desperate.
“No, sir, no…I’m a good kid, I swear…Don’t…Don’t hurt me…”
Falcone cupped sexually his jaw and left the long, thin needles on the table
keeping one.
“Nah…Ya’r a bad… bad boy, a pampered, spoiled bastard who needs to be
chastened…”
He was crying now, his tears watering his face and the mobster took his small
nipple and pierced it slowly with the sharp needle, chuckling with Chill on
Bruce’s howl. The needle impaled his nipple and then the mobster without
letting his nipple took another one.
“No…please… enough” he pleaded yanking his head as much he could.
“Ya’ll become a good boy, sonovabitch” he stabbed the needle to the little
remaining flesh of his nipple and let it go to continue with his other nipple.
He felt every painful drip of blood while his heartless owner was piercing his
other nipple; he clenched his only working hand and tried to take in some air.
His whines ebbed to give their places to mute sobs that became whimpers as
Falcone impaled slowly the skin of his penis with many needles.
The Grey Wolf left once again the table and Bruce’s teary eyes followed him,
not daring to plead in case he enraged him more. His penis was bleeding as his
nipples and it hurt so much… He abandoned his effort to see what his master was
up to because his craned head made his neck ache unbearably. He was met with
Chill’s cruel gleeful eyes and Bruce wondered why an adult would hate so much a
boy…
Falcone’s steps sounded as heavy as his heart’s beats and Bruce closed his eyes
deciding that he didn’t want to see more. Yet the lashing sound and the
crushing of leather on the floor made him shiver and cold sweat covered his
naked body.
“Open yar eyes, littl’ slut.”
He showed him a long thick thing like a rope but from leather and brushed the
boy’s chin with that; Bruce’s eyes bulged spurting new tears.
“Tonight we’re gonna test something new…”
“No…Please…Not …” his voice was husky because of the knot that blocked his
throat; Falcone used his belt on him almost every night and this thing looked
worse, heavier and sharp.
As floppy his pleading was so loud was the scream as the bullwhip crushed his
tortured breasts making the needles cutting sharper. Bruce’s tired, bound body
twitched on the cold surface like a fish out of the water. Falcone waited to
savor his slave’s pain and whines and then whipped his pierced penis causing
his pelvis convulsing spasmodic unable to bear the pain.
And then a loud bang took down the office’s door and his tormentors jerked
their heads shocked; Bruce opened his eyes to see who came to stop his torture.
Tony entered the room imposing  taller than Bruce remembered him but with the
same features that was distorted from anger as every time someone dared to
trouble his baby friend. His eyebrows were knitted, his fists clenched at his
sides and Bruce could tell that his abusers were scared despite the fact Tony
didn’t carry a gun; Tony never needed a gun to save him…
“You’ll pay for what you did to my friend, motherfuckers” he roared and Bruce
smiled though his lips were swollen; he knew it! Tony would never let them
torture him, he always saved him, he was always there; his guardian angel…
And then an excruciating pain in his belly yanked him back to the reality of
Falcone’s whipping and the ridiculus of his daydreaming.
 
“You’re too smart for that, Brucey…”
“Stark rocks the party! Strips along with his new flirt...” Joker’s nasal,
jeering voice screamed to him. “Youuur Tony has better things to do; as a
matter of fact, he always had. You know broads: female and male, booze, dance,
parties, orgies! Eighteen years” his eyes sparkled evilly “he nnnnnever
searched for you.”
 
“Why ya don’t fuck ‘im, boss? He’s old enough; few months ago he sneaked out to
fin’ some’ne to screw ‘im. I tell ya: his daddy was stuffin’ ‘im…”
Falcone let the bloodstained bullwhip on his desk.
“Untie him” he ordered Chill and sprawled on the old sofa. “I wait for the
special moment; it won’t be long… Bring him here.”
Bruce had stopped a while ago crying because his drops of strength had
evaporated; he was just sobbing, twitching feebly from the pain and trembling
as Chill grabbed his cripple hand and thrashed him at his boss’ feet.
Falcone grabbed him from the waist and placed Bruce’s stomach on his lap.
“However till then…” he smiled wickedly and slapped Bruce’s buttocks stretching
them and shoving two fingers in his opening.
Bruce had no strength to stir or convulse just gave a loud sob and Falcone
answered shoving another finger to the boy’s desperate cry. Chill laughed and
Falcone began thrusting his fingers deep and fast and then deeper and faster,
Bruce crying and screaming to their delight.
When Falcone was satisfied having forced his slave to pump his penis to
ejaculate Chill dressed the almost unconscious Bruce and grabbed him from the
locks to drag him to his cage. Only that he made a detour and walked in a room
before his cage. The giant placed him on a barrel on his stomach. He pulled his
pants till the knees and Bruce having a superficial knowledge of the world
understood immediately.
“My roun’ now, huh, littl’ Prince?”
Three fingers penetrated his abused anus suddenly and Bruce didn’t have the
strength even to sob just let his eyelids cover his spent eyes and the pain
conquer his very existence as Chill thrust him with pure hatred: deep, fast,
stretching and folding his fingers in a frantic pace, the nails aggravating the
scratches Falcone did.
Signora Bruna dragged him violently all over Dolcetto. She clutched his
crippled arm, dangled him like a rag doll and cursed with her croaky voice.
He was just following around like a newborn kitten; diarrhea had erode him
eating away his few stored strength and fever was still tormenting his head;
some pangs still pierced his empty belly but at least the humiliating constant
run to the toilet stopped after Falcone’s doctor made him some injections and
gave him some pills.
The scraggy woman halted him reaching the back of the cabaret and pushed him
inside a parapet and a small cabinet- like space; she hastily stripped him,
twisting her lips in disgust.
“Ya reak of shit an’ cum, ya grungy litl’ maggot! But boss wan’ yar ass clean
so good ol’ Bruna has to gulp yar filth…Ya lousy, stink’ bastardo!”
He just closed his eyes unable even to mumble an apology, he was shaking from
cold and shame; and a freezing waterfall suddenly crushed on him as Signora
Bruna opened the makeshift shower. He gasped his body involuntarily convulsing.
“Wha’?” she croaked looking at him with a smirk twisting her face. “Ya wanted
hot water?” she tittered. “Maybe a porcelain tub? Even the littl’ Prince of
Gotham got a 6’ of dust; why a street rat like ya wantin’ more? Ya shoul’a be
grateful to the boss for takin’ ya in an’ fancin’ yar skinny ass…”
He was absorbed in the dirty cement under his feet and the monotonous sound of
the water that made his body shake uncontrollably…
 
“How you survived, Bru-cey?”
Yet for Bruce the right question right now wasn’t ‘how?’ but ‘why?’ Why he
survived through all these? For being free? Who was he kidding? He wasn’t free
from them… For exacting justice? For getting revenge?
Batman clutched his head.
“I’m sick of these coming again and again!” he shouted. “I want them to stop!”
his voice cracked with despair.
“I can make them stop…” the same voice slithered like a snake in his head. “I
can erase all of them, gifting you the bliss of oblivion… Just ask for it…”
Bruce closed tightly his eyes without answering and another voice began.
“You see, Bru-cey; you were always alone, abandoned by everyone...”
 
Selina was there as every night behind the bin waiting for him. He looked
around and slipped close to her. His eyes bulged in horror; his friend’s eye
was bruised.
Selina rolled her eyes.
“It’s nothin’, Bruce; honestly now, you come always with bruises and even
tonight your eye is worse than mine!” she protested.
“This is my world not yours…” he replied and touched her bruise with his left
hand. “It hurts? They punished you beating you?”
Selina shook her head in denial.
“Only with detention: most of the orphanage’s staff was appointed by your
parents and they’re good people.”
Bruce felt his heart elevated with pride for his parents.
“Then you were in a fight?!” his voice was awed and frightened.
The girl lolled her head to the side and twisted her lips.
“It’s not a big deal, kiddo!” she bragged as if she was older than Bruce. “Eat
your sandwich now.”
She unwrapped it because Bruce couldn’t do it and gave it to him watching him
affectionately taking small hesitant bites as if someone was to take the
sandwich from him even if four years now nobody did.
“You should see what got the other…” she chuckled.
“Who?” he asked eagerly with his mouth full and with a pang heard Alfred
berating him for that in his seeming too distant past.
“That prick Carl…” she rolled her eyes at his disapproval for the ‘bad word’.
“You live with creeps, you hear worse than this…Uuuugh! Anyway, we were
watching a TV program for…” she hesitated “for your parents’ murders and that
punk said that you were a filthy, spoiled brat and that you deserved what you
got…Of course I worked him over and he won’t ever again dare to speak badly of
you…”
Bruce lowered his sandwich and stopped chewing; his eyes staring his friend
touched.
“Selina, you shouldn’t…for me…You could be harshly punished…I’m not worthy of
this…”
She grabbed his shoulders cautious to not cause him pain; her green eyes were
shining.
“You worth more than this! I want you to remember it…Look me in the eyes,
Bruce” he obeyed. “I’m gonna smash everyone hurting you with words or…deeds!
I’ll be always here for you…” her lively voice bent and her strong eyes became
teary.
She hugged him and he felt her tears soaking his shoulder.
Two other teary eyes, brown, with a familiar shine. A little girl in his age;
she was still skinny and pale with her hair now growing again.
“They’re gonna get divorce, Bruce…” she mumbled stopping abruptly her sobs.
He shook his head in denial; that was outrageous after all the things his
friend – her name was blurred – suffered; after the fight she gave to live…And
her parents were going to split up. He hugged the girl with both hands and
brushed her back.
“They’ll continue to love you…You’ll see, everything will be alright…” he tried
to soothe her imagining how horrible would be if he was forced to live without
one of his parent.
“No…They’ll forget me, I know…and I’ll be alone!”
“Sssss…You won’t be alone; I’ll always be with you…”
She raised her round shaped head with the drained from cancer cheeks; her eyes
had hope and he smiled to her.
“We’re friends, remember?”
But she closed her eyes and shook her head desperate.
“You’ll leave me too…”
Bruce furrowed his little brow; he’d never do that to his friend!
“I won’t!” he protested and ran to the basket with his favorite toys. He took a
fluffy toy -animal, his most loved; he gave it an affectionate glance and
nodded pressing his rosy lips dogged.
He stormed back to his lady friend and slumped on the fluffy carpet of his room
beside her; she looked him puzzled and he offered her the stuffed animal
smiling.
“Take it! As long as you have that I’ll be with you no matter what…Cross my
heart!”
The little girl whose face now seemed so familiar smiled, wiped her nose with
the back of her palm and hugged the animal.
“…and that is what makes you so afraid of me being exposed as Iron Man! You’re
thinking as a victim through and through, like the weak abused child… Always
mortified that you’ll be punished by your masters if discovered! You can’t stop
being a victim whichever mask you wear! Only victims hide in the shadows! At
least normal people who suffered ask for help but you don’t do even that to be
normal again!”
No… He cowered in his spot.
Quiet, light steps sounded on the stony surface and Bruce’s body tensed without
however turning his head to see; it was so heavy and the drumming so loud that
he wondered how such a light sound made it through.
And then something echoed that made Bruce forget the pain and jolt to his feet.
A happy meow; a beloved meow.
His feet moved on their accord because he was simply stunned by the sight… A
woman around thirty five was standing at the arch of his cave, smiling with her
warm, sweet smile, caressing a white kitten with brown and black smudges
sprawled in her arms that had its eyes on him.
“Mom!”
She was exactly as the last time he saw her: at mid thirties, lean, tall,
beautiful, blonde with shining sapphire eyes. She even wore the same silk white
dress on which the blood was so blatantly evident that night; but now the dress
was clean and shining.
Bruce knew somewhere under the mist and the pain in his skull that she wasn’t
real yet he didn’t have the power to deny her even as a hallucination…And Hero
was with her!
“Bruce…’’ the way she uttered his name was the same as he remembered from the
good days.
She stopped caressing Hero and touched Bruce’s cheek that he realized was
uncovered – the cowl wasn’t on his head anymore. He shivered pleasantly on the
feeling of that unbelievably soft hand and kissed it every pain leaving him.
“Hero is with you!” he exclaimed and it sounded childish even in his own ears
yet Martha chuckled.
“And where else could he be?” the kitten gave a meow as if declaring his
agreement and Bruce couldn’t hold his tears anymore. “He’s the best kitten in
the world and carried your scent.”
Bruce smiled between his tears.
“I stank those days…” he mumbled but Martha kissed his hair.
“My baby never stinks: he always smells that mesmerizing aroma of cinnamon
biscuits, orange, hibiscus and your special scent…”
Hero jerked his little head and stared at Bruce and Bruce’s eyes widened in
pleasant surprise.
“He has both eyes!” he exclaimed and kissed the kitten. “Selina will be so
happy hearing it!” he motioned to take Hero yet hesitated. “Can I…?”
Martha gave him Hero who instantly began purring as he did in his mom’s hug.
Bruce caressed his fur and it was exactly the same feeling, the same smell, the
same laugh as his little friend licked his hand. Bruce couldn’t believe it: he
had wished so many times to pet Hero again… to make the time go back before
Chill killed the unfortunate kitten.
“He should hate me…” he whispered while the kitten worshipped his fingers. “He
was killed because of me…” he raised his eyes to look his mom’s serious face.
“You and dad were killed because of me…”
Her eyes filled with sorrow and she cupped his chin.
“Not because of you, baby; you did nothing wrong. People sometimes are greedy,
evil and don’t feel other people’s pain…”
He lowered his head and tickled Hero’s belly as he had dreamt many times after
the kitten’s death; he wanted to make the better of it before it ended. He
looked again at her mom’s sweet, soothing face.
“I don’t want it to end” he said determined. “I don’t want to stop seeing you,
to lose you again. And I know that you’re not real but I prefer to live in this
unreal world than the other…”
His mom sighed.
“Everything inside your heart is real so am I and Hero… But you’re not alone,
sweetheart” she read his thought “you have many people who love you.”
She pressed her lips and Bruce gaped at the similarity of her grimace with his.
Her velvet hand was caressing again his cheek.
“You’ve grown through pain and torture to become a beautiful, brave, remarkable
young man” a sob escaped her lips “Thomas and I are so proud of you…” she cried
now and Bruce realized that he hadn’t seen his mom crying again. “That night
behind the Opera…it was difficult…not taking the bullet…not dying…but knowing
that I was leaving you…so young, so small and fragile…that I won’t be able to
protect my baby ever again…to do anything for your happiness…”
Bruce touched his mom’s tears and it was the most soothing thing in the world.
“You never stopped protecting me…you saved me again, mom” his teary eyes met
hers and he smiled to her. “You left me the means to fight my captors and gain
my freedom and my life back! Just…just stay with me…don’t leave me again,
please” his eyes glowed.
But Martha’s face became sad and Hero stirred in his arms and Bruce understood.
“No!” he yelled. “You can’t leave me again all alone!”
“You’re not alone, baby…” Martha’s eyes were begging of him. “Oh, Bruce! It’s
so difficult…”
Hero meowed in his special way that reminded of a cute sigh and Bruce held him
with one hand close to his heart as Selina helped him do those nights at the
alley and with the other hand grabbed his mom’s forearm.
“You can’t leave me…”
Yet the small weight of Hero stopped warming his heart and Martha purged her
lips, her sapphire eyes shining like gems from the tears.
“Don’t think that it’s not painful for me too, baby…” a sob vibrated her voice.
“Be happy, Bruce…please, be happy…”
He collapsed on the floor, folded like a fetus, his cowl suffocating him more
than before: even hallucinations didn’t last. He was tired.
“You asked me who I am” the cold metal voice came closer without steps
escorting it.
Bruce didn’t care of who he was, probably another taunting hallucination though
the voice wasn’t Falcone’s or Ra’s’ or Chill’s or Bane’s.
Suddenly he felt a presence looming over him.
“Look at me, human child” Bruce opened his eyes and saw a statue-like gigantic
body reflecting the caves around.
He was completely naked, his enormous penis hanging between his muscle-bound
long legs; he had small silver spikes instead of hair that ended up in two
ivory horns at his temples. His square face was covered with facial hair and he
was beautiful in his way though he had only fuming nostrils and no nose.
“You remember me?” he asked jeering him.
It was just like in the dream and as if reading his thought he began shifting
his transparency to take the glow of sapphire, emerald, ruby, citrine, blue
topaz, amethyst in a row…
“What gem do you prefer, little gem?” he lifted a thick eyebrow and croaked in
laughter.
Bruce was feeling like his head blew leaving his skull opened in two; he shut
his eyes.
“You’re just a hallucination! Nothing more than a lie as in the nightmare!”
Yet the hallucination clenched his right arm that felt again exactly like when
it was crippled and Bruce was jerked upright.
“I’m the one who housed you for fourteen years; the one who gifted you the
headquarters of your war. YOUR world” he brought Bruce’s cowled face in front
of his and gritted his teeth “is MY REALM! You are MINE! I was given your soul
from your nine years!”
Bruce saw again the fourteen year old Bruce being tied on the stony floor of
Ra’s’ basement with the giant demon stuck inside him rocking him in his
frantic, punishing thrusts. He saw the demon pludging his fangs in the boy’s
jugular and tearing his neck, the boy’s cries gradually weakening as his blood
was gulped by the creature.
I know what your master wants and I’ll give it to him as he gave you to me…
Bruce could hear the crystal clear voice in his head and while the demon kept
thrusting in him pulverizing his insides, he saw a replica of the demon
detaching from his body, standing and sinking through the floor in the earth’s
guts and then minerals and shadow and flame became a blur as he was flying in
the speed of mind.
Suddenly he halted abruptly stretching his over eight feet broad body that now
bore the color of graphite before a green glowing vein of small rocks dispersed
between layers of grey and brown minerals; he yanked his head backwards and
roared like an exploding volcano to empty the contents of his mouth over the
lazy glowing rocks: a deep red boiling liquid that Bruce knew that was his
blood spurt and drenched the stones, eroding them to penetrate the mineral that
instantly re-solidified jailing the liquid inside.
The demon extended his hand and dag his 4 inches nails into the stone cutting a
small piece that glimmered happily green with veins of black that clearly moved
inside the rock.
The creature turned his head and smirked to him revealing his ivory teeth and
then all of a sudden the interior of the earth became again Ra’s' basement and
Bruce felt a small weight on his throbbing belly button as a blinding green
light illuminated the dark space.
The basement dissolved and Batman was again in his first cave slumped on the
floor.
“I can be anyone…” the voice dragged slyly the words and a wet breath burnt his
aching ear under the cowl “or maybe I’m in your head… or your entire world…the
only place where you are safe…”
A happy click-click was approaching echoing on the glittering space and the
voice stopped abruptly. And then the click-click became hasty.
“Bruce! Bruce!”
Two delicate but strong hands wrapped his torso and supported him in a sitting
position. He knew that voice; it was his solace all these endless years, his
rock. Selina…
She held his head with one hand and tried to figure if he was conscious; his
lenses were active yet she couldn’t know if they covered open, seeing eyes.
“Bruce, do you hear me?” her voice was calm unlike her heartbeat but when he
nodded weakly she closed her eyes and sighed. “You know who I am?”
He stirred slightly.
“Selina” he answered tired.
“Nice, Bruce, nice! Now can you pull out the cowl for me?”
“I don’t know how…” he whispered and Selina bit her lip.
“You do but you don’t remember right now…that’s okay, sweetie” she said
soothingly and thanked mentally her memory for bringing up the scene where
Bruce took off the cowl the first time she met the Bat. “Can I take your
hands?” she must try.
He mumbled his agreement and Selina took gently his palms and touched the
thumbs to the sides of the cowl; she didn’t know the exact spot where the
system acknowledged Bruce’s thumbs yet when there her friend’s left arm moved
automatically to the exact spot that glowed green. However Bruce’s right hand
remained still in her hand and the young woman moved it to the right spot that
gave a green light and with a click the cowl was ready to be taken off her
friend’s face.
She threw the cowl and caressed Bruce’s sweaty face; his sight frightened her.
His locks were glued on his head and many of them on his cheeks and forehead;
she brushed the stray hair back and felt his extremely pale face that socked
her with its coldness. At least Bruce’s breathe was easier and his eyes were
watching her.
“Now we must take off the costume and dress you to go back home…”
Bruce closed his eyes.
“This is my home!” he said determined.
Selina felt the cold clench of panic.
“Listen to me, Bruce: you don’t belong here; this isn’t your home. Your home is
where the people who love you are.”
He opened his eyes which were shining.
“My mom was here with Hero…” he smiled happy. “You know, Selina? Hero is with
my mom and he has his both eyes now and…and…he still loves me; he doesn’t hold
me a grudge…And mom was exactly as the last time I saw her…”
Now Selina’s respiration was strained; she shouldn’t cry for Bruce’s pain, not
now.
“I know, Bruce” she inhaled deeply “but they don’t dwell here; they are in your
heart and follow you everywhere…C’me on, buddy…” he clenched her teeth and
began feeling the complex suit for clasps or hidden buttons. “Alfred and Leslie
are waiting…don’t you want to see them? Help me take off that…thing!”
“But this is my home, Selina…Here…here it’s safe from…them…”
“You defeated them, Bruce; you’re free now…” she said desperate.
“Then why they’re still torturing me?” he whispered, all his exhaustion clear
in his voice.
Selina closed her eyes discouraged.
“Because everything is engraved in your mind…Please, Bruce; for me…Don’t…don’t
give up…make an effort.”
Selina’s tired voice cleaned somewhat the fog in his mind and he began
unclasping the parts of the armor but only with his left arm and clenching his
teeth to bear the deafening drumming. Selina frowned at the way his right arm
hanged from his shoulder, like a dead weight; exactly like then. She shuddered.
“I can’t move my right arm and it hurts like…back then” he said indifferently
reading her eyes.
“It’s fine, Bruce; we’ll fix it…Can you support your body? I must get your
clothes…”
He nodded and she rushed to the corner of the cave where he had discarded the
remnants of his fine suit and Joker’s jacket. She glanced disgusted at the
purple clothe but she took it because her friend was shivering.
She dressed him with Bruce helping her but only with one hand; Selina noticed
how the young man flinched and grimaced in pain whenever she touched his right
arm. Finishing she put the purple jacket on him and Bruce stared at it puzzled.
Selina shrugged.
“It’s the only thing we got…”
It was a nice surprise for her that Bruce managed to stood on his own yet she
hurried to support him. As they passed the arch of the cave Bruce looked
regretful behind and Selina didn’t like it a bit so cupped his chin and forced
him to look her in the eyes.
“Tony is waiting for us!”
“Tony?” he asked as if what she said was the oddest thing.
“Yes, your friend Tony, Bruce! Your best buddy, your childhood friend!” she
brushed his cold face. “C’me on, Bruce; you know who Tony is and how much he
loves you!”
He nodded but didn’t speak just let his eyes sank in the stony surface.
They walked the distance with Selina supporting Bruce who to her relief was
walking on his own only with a slight tremor; they were almost at the secret
manhole that led upside to the sewers and except than his shallow breathes
Selina hadn’t heard nothing else from Bruce.
“Hero was very happy with my mom…” he said suddenly and Selina smiled to him.
“Of course he was, Bruce…”
But then his breathes became uneven and he turned his head away to throw up
collapsing on his knees.
Selina’s eyes widened; she was fearless yet at this very moment was scared.
There was no chance she could bring Bruce to the ‘upper world’ alone. Her quick
mind remembered the little gadget Tony gave her and she pressed it.
She kneeled beside Bruce and caressed his forehead that was now feverish; he
was breathing in rasps and was shaking uncontrollably. She cupped his face and
turned it to her; he was regarding her but she could say that he was hardly
grasped to consciousness.
“Hold on, sweetie; Tony is coming…”
He saw his eyes blinking discouraged and she frowned: could Bruce be in doubt
that Tony will come for him?
“He will…” she stressed and wiped his mouth with a paper tissue.
She heard a distant humming sound and almost immediately saw Ironman landing in
front of them yet Bruce’s eyes were focused on the stone floor.
Tony deactivated the face plate and grabbed his kneeled friend hoisting him;
Bruce’s body strangely limp in his hands though his friend was still conscious.
“I’d have come sooner yet the place isn’t for much speed. Selina, climb outside
the manhole and I’ll hoist him to you: the hole isn’t enough for both of us.”
Selina nodded and did what Tony said which procedure was followed for the
second manhole that brought them to the surface. The young woman inhaled
deeply.
“I never imagined that I’ll be so happy to breathe Gotham’s stinky air!” she
said slyly rolling her eyes.
Tony supported Bruce in an one-arm hug yet his friend’s low temperature worried
him.
“Heat armor” he ordered and turned to Selina. “I can get both of you to the
clinic at the same time.”
She gave him her smug smile.
“No, handsome; I’ll go change and I’ll find you there. Just be very careful
with him…’’
Tony took off to the first shy light of the dawn; a red sun was just emerging
from the horizon. Bruce’s left hand touched softly Tony’s shoulder to rest his
hand to his neck and the billionaire felt his friend stirring in his arms; his
right arm lay completely limp on his belly as Tony had placed it; he hadn’t
seen again Bruce’s hand like this and it was another shock for him because he
knew of the years Bruce’s hand was crippled.
Bruce was seeing Tony’s mature face but this time he knew that he wasn’t a
hallucination because his head ached and the drumming was echoing in the
caverns of his skulls. He knew it because he was seeing his black carbon eyes
behind the dancing golden spots.
“You did come…” he whispered and his eyes shone teary.
Tony understood in those sapphire-emerald eyes the pain and the despair of the
thousand times he had betrayed his friend’s despondent begs. He sighed wanting
to caress his friend but not daring afraid that he’d drop him.
“Yes, buddy; this time I’m here for you…You’re safe.”
Bruce looked affectionately his friend’s uncovered face and placed his head to
Ironman’s warm armor closing his eyes relieved and Tony wished his armor could
transform in something dreamy soft for Bruce’s sake…
 
***** Chapter 47 *****
“Wayne Enterprises along with Stark Industries hit a record, marking an
impressive rally and an astonishing rise of their shares as the Asian Markets
closed; the ‘Wayne’ tornado hits next the European major markets as we expect
the same frantic rally with the Wall Street’s opening…”
Talia watched behind her knitted fingers the morning news coverage in GCN. She
was irritated because someone had attempted to sabotage Ironman and he did it
using the information she had given him. Her eyes flared up: she felt the
thirst to kill him for acting without her permission but she should be patient.
Obadiah Stane and Lex Luthor considered themselves clever; that they could
outsmart her.
She shook her head and smirked: when she’d get what she wanted these foolish
men would be cast in the flames of their arrogance, paying their disobedience.
Till then she’ll give them the illusion that she was lenient… She had sent Bane
to…chasten Mr. Stane because she didn’t want to leave Gotham now or bring the
businessman here so close to Stark.
“If you take into account that Joker is under custody then I’d say that a
brilliant day starts for the young Wayne. Don’t you agree, Tyler?” the younger
journalist asked his co-presenter.
“Mmmm…I don’t know, Brad; Mr. Wayne achieved a spectacular amount of things in
a very short time, picking up his father’s company in a very crucial moment
when Falcone Scandal almost ruined it – always with the help of the Stark
behemoth” he raised his eyebrows “which is a great asset for the youth. Yet,
Brand, unfortunately I doubt that this would be the day of triumph for Bruce
Wayne” he shook his head “though it should. We heard that the young man was
rescued by the vague Batman but while we saw Batman squashing Joker on Corolla
Building’s rooftop opposite Wayne Tower…”
Footage taken from the news helicopter was played with the presenter’s
reference to Talia’s relish and smirk for the ignorance of these people.
“… The young heir is still missing and all witnesses have testified that he was
injured when the criminal abducted him…”
“Let’s hope that Mr. Wayne would be back with us soon.”
Suddenly, Brad touched his earbud and nodded.
“We have news from our reporter Vicky Vale…”
 
Clark lay on his bed in a solitary room of Dr. Thompkins’ clinic. The room was
drenched in artificial sun light with solarium-like lamps and though the
authentic sun light was his remedy Superman felt quite better – besides the sun
had already rose and in some hours it’s charging power would be in the fullest
for him to completely recover.
At least, he hoped so because these days his powers seemed rather reduced even
without the presence of Kryptonite and the oddest thing was that the sun
radiation couldn’t make its trick. He was sure that it was due to his fervent
desire and Bruce’s cold and hostile behavior; truth be told, he never searched
the Kryptonian crystals in the Fortress for his kind’s mating behavior. Till
now whenever in love…well, “in love” was an exaggeration when used for his
flirts till now: looking backwards and comparing with what he was feeling for
that special human being named Bruce Wayne, his past sexual adventures were
lukewarm. And that probably explained that he was turned upside down now…
He should visit the Fortress some time to consult Jor El though he was sure
that all this abnormality would go away as soon as he got what he desired:
Bruce’s gorgeous body…he had seen many times that body under the expensive
suits or Batman’s armor…And he knew…academically that it wasn’t right or moral
to peek yet…frankly…honestly he didn’t give a damn…well, it didn’t feel wrong,
on the contrary it was the only thing that made him feel whole, his powers
fully back.
Well, he knew that ‘conquering’ Bruce’s body unfortunately had to wait because
his Star had a very traumatizing past and he didn’t want to frighten him – mmm…
that didn’t fit Bruce - push him. But he knew that even Bruce’s smile and
affectionate behavior would do the charm.
He yanked his head and closed his eyes in exhilaration letting his mind dive in
the replaying of his rescue from his Star. He inhaled and Bruce’s scent was
still in his nostrils paralyzing and enchanting as the younger man albeit tired
and injured supported him whispering to him reassurance and dragging him away
from death.
It was exactly why Clark was sure that as soon as Bruce admitted his feelings
for him and treated him all the time as he did that night, all these strange
things would dissipate. Even if he would have to wait before his body united
with his Star’s. And he had fleetingly thought that Bruce was a special kind of
Kryptonite killing him… He shook his head exasperated from his stupidity; okay,
he felt like dying those moments but considering Bruce a…human-Kryptonite… It
wasn’t his Star’s fault that Superman was in love with him so his enemies used
him to lure him in traps…Bruce a Kryptonite because the emerald star inside his
eyes glows so mesmerizingly…Kent, you’re preposterous!
He didn’t sleep at all because he was trying to keep some connection with his
wayward love to make sure he was okay. And since he was awake he fed The
Planet with juicy articles that nobody other would have: he narrated how Joker
trapped Superman with Kryptonite and how Batman saved him along with Bruce
Wayne and cleared the path – in this case, the trapped with explosives Dolcetto
– for Ironman and the GCPD to arrest Joker and his goons.
Of course after he heard that Joker had escaped the building kept his ears to
Batman in his confrontation with the madman over Corolla Building – actually,
he included in his article parts of their dialogue that even the GCN’s
helicopter that captured the scene didn’t have. The parts Clark listened made
him furious to the point of feeling for the first time the urge to…erase the
clown that dared to say such things and touch HIS Star.
However, the fact that he lost contact with Bruce made him completely forgot
Joker: he knew that he was alive but he had gone to places he couldn’t reach
and Clark was scared because he had scanned Bruce and he had a concussion even
though probably his extraordinary training permitted him to do all these
admirable things. Still the Man of Steel didn’t know what all this effort could
have cost Bruce…
He sighed and sighed and sighed with every minute that passed torturous slowly…
And then his hearing caught Leslie’s nervous voice saying probably to Stark
that they will be waiting and to hurry up. And then Alfred keeping his poised
tone asked her and she confirmed that Selina and Stark found Bruce and Stark
was on his way here. Leslie’s hastened footsteps sounded on the corridor
probably to arrange things for Bruce’s treatment and Clark with a shudder
listened to the always calm butler’s deep sigh and whisper: “Thank you, Lord!”
Clark blushed, feeling suddenly for the first time how immoral eavesdropping
was but he forgot it right away sensing the most joyful thing in the world: his
mate’s approaching…
 
“Brad, Tyler, we see Ironman aka Tony Stark heading in full speed to Dr.
Thompkins’ free clinic…”
The camera zoomed as much as it could to the shining spot in the sky.
“We’re not sure…Yes, yes…He carries someone and certainly is Bruce Wayne! GCN’s
crew is in front of Dr. Thompkins’ clinic because it is known that the
formidable, legendary doctor is the young heir’s personal doctor and for hours
we’re waiting for this exact moment: to capture Mr. Wayne’s relief as he
reaches safety in the powerful arms of his beloved friend…”
Dagget cocked an eyebrow and gulped his whiskey.
“You stupid bitch!” he spat to the blond reporter “Obviously, you didn’t make
the reportage of the century…Idiots!”
Luthor laughed and lowered his legs from the huge desk inside the office of his
suite, winking to Mercy Graves who was glaring at Dagget.
“Oh! Enjoy the collective elation, John!”
The other man grunted and turned his head to the huge plasma TV on the shining
furniture. The camera was following Ironman’s flight while the excited and
expectant exclamations of the reporters gradually lost enthusiasm as Stark
didn’t land.
“He is going to land on the helipad at clinic’s rooftop to avoid reporters…”
“Damn!” Dagget hit his fist on the couch. “What else should happen to get rid
of that brat? Not even that stupid clown made it!”
Luthor walked towards his disgruntled partner, stilled his hands on the couch’s
back and looked at the screen where the camera flickered trying to catch a
distant image from the rooftop.
“See it from the good side…” he shrugged “the brat tripled the value of the
company’s shares in four months and thus your profit.”
Dagget turned his distorted from disgust face.
“My profits were very high during Falcone’s rule, thank you very much! And the
shares wouldn’t have dropped if that slut had remained dead or in Falcone’s
bed!”
Luthor yanked his head and smirked; his grey eyes shining cunningly.
“Yeah…But now when we’ll get Wayne Enterprises you’ll be the CEO of a well
respected conglomeration with many prospects of legitimate, profitable works.
And…we’ll have the plus gratification that we snatched everything from the boy
sending him where he always belonged. Patience…”
 
When Ironman’s feet touched the clinic’s rooftop Leslie, Alfred and some nurses
dragging a gurney were already there; he rushed there and Bruce stirred in his
arms, looking frowned around.
“We’re here, little guy” Tony whispered smiling.
Yet as he made to place him on the stretcher Bruce jolted from his arms and
start running under the shocked stares of everyone. Tony stormed behind him
realizing that his friend was confused and in his haste to leave he could get
more hurt.
Tony had witnessed Bruce’s skill on skipping him but now he was worn out; the
fact he was still able to stand a miracle. And that exhaustion was what enabled
Ironman to grab him from the waist and bring him back to the gurney.
Bruce was convulsing like a captured wounded wild animal and Tony clenched his
teeth as laid him gently to the stretcher. But his friend’s eyes were glowing
like being in fire and he kept resisting.
“I don’t want to be here!” he yelled jerking violently and managing to slip
Tony’s hands. “Let go of me! I don’t want to be again in the clinic!”
Alfred rushed there pale but collected.
“Please, Master Bruce, calm down…It’s for your own good…”
Bruce turned his puzzled eyes to him and frowned, for an instance relaxing his
tensed muscles but suddenly he made to jump from the stretcher having evaded
Tony’s grip.
Tony realized that if Bruce managed this time to stand he couldn’t be able to
catch him so he grabbed him from the upper arms with Ironman’s strength
multiplied from his despair. He shivered because he knew that this would bruise
yet he saw Leslie preparing an injection to sedate Bruce and he must keep him
still.
He laid him flat on his back and felt the wild force of his friend’s body
vibrating his hands ready to fight him again and Tony pressed more. And then
Bruce screamed desperately and Tony’s heart shattered following Bruce’s eyes to
his right arm that Ironman was clenching.
Leslie found the chance to inject Bruce and the young man just whimpered in his
friend’s hands.
“I’m sorry, buddy…” Tony mumbled devastated.
Bruce looked him in the eyes slumped on the gurney defeated by the sedative’s
rapid spread.
“Why you came back?” he asked him and his eyes had a glassy texture and his
voice a deep bitterness. “What do you want from me?”
Tony bit his lip as his hands detached slowly on their own. Bruce continued to
stare at him puzzled, demanding and tired till his eyes closed, the sedative
finally taking effect.
“To the MRI!” Leslie ordered the nurses and touched Tony’s upper arm. “It’s
alright, Tony…” her eyes were soothing, her words filled with understanding.
She kissed his cheek, patted him and followed the gurney.
Tony lowered his head and rubbed his forehead: he had caused pain to Bruce, he
had squeezed his aching arm so much that his tortured friend must had returned
to the horrible years of his captivity. And then the way he looked at him and
made his question… Fuck!
He felt a compassionate hand touching his shoulder blade; he must have
deactivated unconsciously Ironman’s armor at some point. He saw Alfred smiling
kindly to him.
“He knows that you didn’t mean to cause him pain, Master Anthony; he knows how
much you love him and that it was for the best” the butler pressed his lips.
“It’s the concussion, Master Anthony, and the drugs Joker gave him; that
criminal really messed with his head. Leslie told me that he gave to Master
Bruce psychotropic drugs and Master Bruce’s horrific past isn’t a nice factor…”
Tony nodded.
“I’m gonna kill that monster…”
Alfred’s blue eyes found Tony’s angry ones.
“Master Bruce doesn’t want that; I’m sure he’ll be happier when he wakes up
finding you by his side than learning that you’re in prison for killing
someone; even Joker.”
The younger man pressed his lips.
“I can’t share your certainty, Alfred.”
“Let us go inside, Master Anthony. And then if I may make a suggestion a hot
bath and some hours of good rest in the Manor will make wonders!” he smiled at
Tony and gently led him to the lift for the interior of the building.
“I don’t want to leave him, Alfred” he admitted after some seconds. “I have
abandoned him so many times in the past…”
“Master Anthony! You can’t believe this! You’ve never abandoned Master Bruce.
You just…”
Tony cast him a sharp stare.
“I just wasn’t there for eighteen years!” he yelled and blushed realizing it,
thankful that the lift didn’t let his voice being heard. “The most crucial
years of his life…” he ruffled his hair. “Oh, Alfred! You don’t understand!”
Yet Alfred’s face and especially his eyes had an expression that Tony knew very
well.
“If that is what you believe, sir…” his poised voice however was stating quite
the opposite.
Tony shook his head but didn’t speak, choosing to look at the light indicator
of the passing floors.
“I’ll wait till Leslie finishes her tests and tells us the results…”
Alfred nodded.
“It could take hours, sir.”
Tony shook his head and pursed his lips.
“I don’t mind: I’m used to spend my nights wake and go straight to the classes
or the company…” he stopped abruptly his frivolous life biting him again.
Alfred’s eyes kind and sympathetic were on him, with a deeper knowledge for
Tony’s inner turmoil.
“Your wondrous stamina is widely known, sir, yet the last hours must have been
extremely stressful.”
“For you too, Al; maybe you should take some rest. I need only one thing…”
“I hope not alcohol, sir.”
Tony smirked and shook his head.
“A nice hot espresso, Al” he patted the older man’s elbow as the lift’s door
opened.
 
“There’s no swelling or bleeding in the skull…” Dr. Smit’s flat voice echoed in
the computer room overlooking the MRI.
Leslie nodded, not completely relieved yet and pointed to some areas of Bruce’s
brain manifesting activity.
“It’s normal” the elder doctor said shrugging “considering the substances he
was drugged with; still the sedation slowly mollifies the effect. That madman
definitely tried to destroy Bruce’s mind: it’s very fortunate that they saved
him soon enough.”
Leslie rubbed her chin, fixing her glasses on her nose. She had brought Bruce
immediately here deciding to put a bit off the wounds’ tending because what
burnt her was what Joker caused inside. She watched Batman roaming the city and
beating Joker yet that didn’t mean that everything was fine; the adrenaline
could have concealed the effects and the fact that Bruce hid for many hours
left many questions.
“There are a few blows in the mouth, nose and forehead but they aren’t
worrisome…”
She didn’t answer and her colleague guessed the reason.
“You’re worried about the injury in his lower spine, right?”
“I haven’t made the physical examination yet…” she replied. “I must know if
things got worse, Theo.”
He pressed some keys and on screen images were manifested from his lower spine
and Dr. Smit magnified the S2-S4 region.
“I think that we were lucky…” the elder doctor said. “I don’t see any
aggravation; of course an orthopedist would know better…” he turned to Leslie.
“What do you say?”
Leslie’s relief was evident; yet she’d get the prints to Dr. Li, the clinic’s
orthopedist, to compare it with the previous.
“I believe the same, Theo; there’s no sign of new injury. Yet I’ll examine
him.” She patted her colleague’s back. “Thank you for coming so early in the
morning, Theo.”
He looked her above his small round glasses smirking.
“We want our benefactor healthy, right?” he winked. “The boy has a star,
Leslie…”
She pressed her lips.
“A lazy one…” she mumbled and Dr. Smit nodded. “Is he ready?”
“I have taken the images we wanted; I’m taking him out” he pressed the button
and the table began emerging. “I think the trickiest part will be fighting off
the side effects of both the concussion and the drugs; the boy must already be
suffering from PTSD…” he looked sympathetically on the unconscious form on the
table. “Why you haven’t already sent him to a psychotherapist?”
“Bruce is a complicated human being and I didn’t want to press him. I wanted to
give him some space; some normality… And I don’t know if therapy can benefit
him right now…” she patted Dr. Smit’s forearm. “I must go to him…”  
 
Tony stood with his arms crossed in front of the window in Bruce’s room gazing
at the moody sun slowly ascending the horizon. The empty foam cup of espresso
lay inside the small waste bin.
What were Leslie and those doctors doing with Bruce? He wanted to punch
something but decided against it; the waiting was irritating and without Alfred
to engage him in discussion it was getting worse. The butler had gone to the
Manor to bring some clothes for his master since last night’s clothing was
destroyed and police needed them for evidence. He suspected that Alfred just
wanted to make the waiting easier by having something to do.
Maybe he should have done the same: go to the Wayne Tower and manufacture the
tricks that would reassure that Joker would never again threaten people and his
friend. And he could see how good ol’ Lucius was doing with the antidote; with
all these, the loyal man was charged with that job and although the antidote
was done there were still some final tests to be performed. Bruce wanted no
risks and his ‘potion’ also ready to restore the damages the alien underwent.
Also, he would see Pepper who was struggling all these hours with the crashed
party’s aftermath; he missed her already… Yet he couldn’t leave, thinking once
again his comfort; it felt like a new betrayal and he had too many of them
prickling…
His gaze followed the sky towards the Palisades – not that he could actually
see the green fields, he wasn’t Superman after all…
The hangover from last night’s party made his head weighing a ton. Or was it
the sight in front of him? He brought the bottle of bourbon to his mouth and
downed a good amount: the better way to fight off the hangover is drinking
again! He cackled but immediately blushed and lowered his eyes.
He was a mess: no tie, half opened shirt, wrinkled jacket and pants, unshaven,
unwashed, disheveled hair; he felt his eyes red and his breathe stink…
He had drunk too much in his room at MIT’s camp last night; he had ditched all
his companies that made ‘great plans’ for that night and instead got drunk
alone; the realization he was alone even surrounded by all these joyful people
was clearer that day. He got whacked having only the company of his memories
and some photos till sleep mercifully snatched him.
When he woke up it was morning and for an instance he panicked that he wasn’t
going to make it on time…like then…when they changed the funeral’s time and he
arrived too late…Well, there was no funeral today…And frankly even then four
years ago it was better that he missed the official funeral: he avoided all
these sycophants and hypocrites who rushed the service to get over with it as
they sped up to declare his little guy dead and stop every search for his body
abandoning him to rot in the wastes…
He clenched the bouquet of white lilies he held; he had already lay the two
other bouquets of white roses on the two bigger tombstones but he still
couldn’t decide to do the same with the last bunch of flowers. He always had
trouble when it came to the smaller tombstone, the one above the empty grave…
Maybe that was the reason he was always drinking to unconsciousness the night
before that anniversary…hoping he’ll stay in coma for 24 hours and waking when
the anniversary would have passed and then he wouldn’t have a reason to come to
that shithole of a city.
But he always woke up with the first rays of dawn because somewhere deep inside
he wanted to come and pay tribute to his dead innocence…And Happy was always
waiting him in the private jet ready to take off…
He gulped acid bourbon; he needed to be drunk to gaze at the smaller tombstone
but funny… that day he couldn’t get enough wasted to look there and not bleed
inside. He closed his eyes and gulped the knot the bourbon failed to dissolve…
And then inhaled deeply and lay the lilies on the dirt under the small
tombstone without looking but then his frightened eyes darted there and it was
a shock even after four years seeing that name engraved in the white marble:
Bruce Wayne…
He sniffed and hastily and angrily wiped his tears: a stupid piece of stone and
a small inscription couldn’t contain what the little guy was…is…He clenched his
jaw so much that his teeth hurt. Was…
He lifted the bottle and downed what was left: Tony Stark the punk, crazy-happy
billionaire can’t cry, right? Even if he must get too much drunk and too lost
in other people’s bodies to manage it…Damn! The bottle contained too
little…Fuck!
His enraged eyes fell on the name and softened, filled with regret. He purged
his lips and ruffled his hair.
“Sorry, little guy…I didn’t want you ever see me like this…” he shook his head
and slapped his face. “What I’m saying? You can’t see me…You’re…”
He couldn’t utter it: he could still hear Bruce’s voice, Bruce’s happy giggles
when he tickled him that day; few days before he was killed…his eyes were still
looking at the boy’s glowing eyes…
He threw the bottle away disgusted with himself, with everything…
He heard hesitant steps and turned abruptly. What he saw made him mad…
“Could I offer you some tea, Master Anthony?”
The man’s voice was exactly as the days he baked them cinnamon biscuits and
mock-berated Bruce for eating too much but shoving in his hand one last,
stressing that it was the last time he indulged the boy’s greediness. But it
was such a sweet spectacle seeing Bruce gulping cinnamon biscuits and nobody
even the firm British could deny him the treat.
But nothing was the same anymore…And that was most true for Alfred. Tony’s
mouth twitched nervously.
“I’m not your master!” he spat at him and the older man tried to hide it but
Tony saw his sadness. “A servant can’t have two masters…” he smirked “and you
have already chosen your master!”
Alfred inhaled just a bit deeper than usually and stretched his slumped
shoulders.
“Master Anthony, you’re extremely pale…”
That was enough! That stupid butler hadn’t even the subtlety to listen to his
request and leave him alone.
“And what do you care?!” he yelled and stormed to the older man his eyes crazy.
Alfred’s eyes didn’t flinch on the young man’s outburst.
“Pardon me, sir, but I do care…”
Tony clenched his waist and chuckled.
“You don’t even care about Bruce!” he saw Alfred’s collected eyes widen. “Do
you remember? That little boy who followed you around twittering endless
questions and watching you eagerly as you prepared his favorite biscuits? Do
you remember his favorite biscuits?”
This time Alfred closed his eyes and lowered his head defeated but Tony didn’t
feel sorry for him; he had betrayed the Waynes serving their murderer. He
betrayed his little friend.
Tony nodded.
“You shouldn’t even come near their graves! You became their murderer’s
servant! Tidying up their home for him! They tortured Bruce before letting him
drown, Alfred!” he shouted. “He was just eight years old, Alfred” he shook his
head “no child deserves to die like this…And you kneel to his murderer! What
kind of person you are?!”
The older man was just staring at him without defending himself and Tony was
ready to explode.
“How dare you stand in front of me?! Get lost, you fool, get lost!” he knew
that he was sputtering yet didn’t care.
Alfred nodded.
“As you wish…Master Anthony…”
He watched Alfred moving towards the Manor, the mausoleum that was now the
Wayne Manor. Tony closed his eyes to Alfred’s so clearly defeated posture and
regarded Bruce’s tombstone.
“I’ll never betray you, little guy, as our Alfred did…”
Tony covered his face with his palms: he had been so cruel to poor Alfred while
the butler was carrying his own Cross. So unfair to him… So selfish: while he
was the one who betrayed Bruce all these years…
He jolted when the door opened but instead of the gurney with Bruce he saw
Pepper coming. She was clearly tired yet beautiful as ever with her strict eyes
full with concern; she wore a grey business suit and Tony wondered how she
managed to steal some time to change…
Pepper cupped his cheek and kissed him which he much appreciated.
“How is Bruce?”
“Leslie is conducting a series of exams on him…” he sighed and ruffled his hair
“but it’s taking too much time! Damn it!”
Pepper pressed her lips in a tight line.
“Tony, calm down: Leslie is doing the best for Bruce; she wants to cover
everything and give him the best treatment.”
He nodded.
“I know…” he said and hearing it from someone else was more relieving than
repeating it in his head.
He kissed her in the lips.
“How’s the field?”
She smiled.
“I know it doesn’t make things better but both Stark and Wayne shares opened
with a big rise in Wall Street after a frantic rally in world markets. The
health behemoths have already contacted us for the bionic body members and
we’ll fix the last details of the official presentation as soon as we get
information about Bruce’s condition. Lucius told me to tell you that the
antidote and the…’potion’ will be ready to administer in a few hours so you
just have to keep track on Superman.”
“This is covered” he nodded.
She shook her head.
“You can’t imagine the chaos outside the clinic and the Wayne Tower; I used the
back entrance. I was hoping to have Leslie’s test results to feed them
something…” she raised her eyebrows. “Many candidate business partners called
to ask…”
Tony cocked an eyebrow.
“As if they care…”
Pepper touched his shoulders and gave a crooked smile.
“You know how our fake world works… I saw you on TV bringing Bruce: how was
he?”
Tony lolled his head on the side unsure of what he wanted to share but
fortunately the door opened and two nurses dragged in the gurney with Bruce
still unconscious. Leslie was on their heels and…Alfred with Selina.
Tony rushed there. His friend was dressed in a hospital gown and evidently had
been bathed. The big wound in the side of his head was dressed in gauze and his
other smaller injuries were tended too. Bruce was still unconscious and looked
so peaceful, so different than the moment he struggled to escape Tony’s grip.
“Why you came back? What do you want from me?”
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, get out right now!” Leslie’s authoritative voice
towered every other sound and everyone obeyed without objection Alfred leaving
the small trolley bag he was carrying in a corner.
Tony cast a last glance before getting out: Leslie was fixing the wires
connecting the small machine for the EEG with Bruce’s head. Of course she
wanted to observe Bruce at least for 24 hours. He followed the others closing
softly the door.
Selina sat beside Alfred.
“Thank you, Miss Kyle, for everything you did for Master Bruce” his voice was
touched and his smile flickered. “You’re a remarkable young woman…”
Selina rolled her eyes to hide her uneasiness for the kind man’s praise.
“I didn’t do anything so important, Alfred…”
“You did, Miss Kyle” he patted her hands.
“Alfred is right, Selina” Tony offered but when Alfred turned his tired eyes on
him the billionaire scratched his hair uncomfortable because the memory of his
hard words of the past was too vivid.
“You all should get some rest” the caring butler said “you too, Miss Potts: you
had an exhausting night.”
The young woman smiled.
“Don’t worry about me, Alfred” she sighed. “Mister Stark’s secretary is highly
trained in running to cover every kind of…anomaly…”
Tony coughed and Selina laughed.
“I hope your salary is worthy enough…”
“I wouldn’t have taken the job of the secretary otherwise!”
“Personal assistant not secretary” Tony mumbled as if it made things better.
“This sounds even more painful…” Selina said slyly and Tony rolled his eyes.
“Alfred, save me from the ladies!”
“Pardon me, sir but I reckon that your innermost desire isn’t to be saved from
such lovely attackers…”
Tony nodded with his eyebrows lifted and he crossed his arms.
“Rrrright! Everyone knows ol’ Tony – alas! I lost my charm of
unpredictability!”
They stopped abruptly when the nurses left Bruce’s room expecting to see Leslie
coming after them. But it took some more time for her and when she closed the
door gently behind her, four pairs of eyes looked her eagerly.
Leslie inhaled and gestured to them to follow her into an empty examination
room.
“I didn’t want to risk anyone eavesdropping” she explained as soon as the door
was closed.
Tony had leaned on a table and tapped his fingers on the surface. Hearing about
‘eavesdropping’ he lolled his head and raised his eyebrows.
“I know somebody who doesn’t let walls stop him…”
Leslie huffed.
“Well, he can scan Bruce anyway …” not that she liked that. “Now on our
subject: Bruce’s life isn’t in danger; the concussion was severe but there’s no
swelling or bleeding in his brain. Still I’ll monitor him for at least 24 hours
to rule out the possibility of an aggravation. Of course it’s a concussion and
a concussion always takes time and needs patience with its aftermath” she shook
her head. “He could manifest personality changes, irritability, troubles in
concentration or memory, some confusion, severe headaches; he’ll need rest,
good sleep during the night and sessions of daytime naps, and avoid straining
his brain…”
Everyone rolled their eyes on that except Alfred who was a British butler after
all. Easy to say but keeping Bruce away from exertion wasn’t an easy task,
maybe an impossible one?
“Yes…” Leslie huffed. “I know it’s difficult…”
“Impossible…” Selina and Tony said simultaneously.
“Also no alcohol and drugs.”
“Master Bruce never liked either” Alfred answered yet Leslie’s stare was
strange and the British frowned. “Does something bother you, Leslie?”
Leslie bit her lip.
“Bruce might be a bit different; I don’t know in which aspects and how much.
You see, the worst is that Joker drugged him and that along with the concussion
and his previous experiences can make quite the effect.”
“What that bastard gave him?” Tony asked.
“Thorazine, Haldol, Prozac and Lithium…” Leslie counted and Alfred whispered
his despair. “Joker must have been in a mental institution” Tony nodded “and
those drugs must have been part of his medication.” She sighed. “Those drugs
are highly used in mental patients for decades but there are side effects and
when used to a normal person…”
“I’ll kill him!” Tony screamed.
“I can bring guns and knives, handsome!” Selina snapped through clenched teeth.
Leslie raised her palms to ease them.
“Thankfully, he injected him only twice and the sedative I gave him helped
clean his system. But we still don’t know what he experienced the hours he was
alone after the adrenaline stopped protecting him and what to expect.”
“When I found him” Selina said “he was slumped on the cave’s floor clutching
his head; I asked him to get off his cowl and answered that he didn’t know how.
Of course when I brought his hand on the cowl he immediately found the right
spot…But he couldn’t move his right arm…the one that was crippled for years.”
“Yes” Tony agreed nodding “he held his arm as if it was dead.”
“And it must hurting him too much” Selina added “Did he injured it?”
Leslie shook her head looking at Alfred’s worried eyes.
“No, there’s no indication of injury” she cocked an eyebrow “it’s just
psychological: a result of the confusion the concussion and the drugs induced.
He must have experienced a completely chaotic world…”
Selina bit her lip.
“He told me that he saw his mother and Hero… And he kept saying that the caves
were his home and that he belonged there, that he was safe there; he didn’t
want to leave. Also” she suddenly remembered “at some point he threw up and
collapsed.”
Leslie nodded.
“These substances can cause hallucinations or…” she looked pointed to Tony
“confusion, emotional instability and… aggressiveness” she opened her hands and
shook her head “and we have the concussion to add to all these.”
Tony left the table and approached Leslie.
“What we must do?”
“Be patient and observant for any sign of worsening: concussion isn’t something
rare but it needs caution especially in cases like Bruce’s.”
Tony nodded and ruffled his hair; he was indecisive whether he should ask in
front of others yet everyone in the room loved Bruce.
“Speak, Tony” Leslie prompted firmly.
Tony yanked his head with his eyes narrowed.
“Bruce’s clothes were torn and he had lipstick all over his body” Leslie
understood. “Did Joker rape him?” he didn’t want to but his voice became
throaty.
Leslie patted him.
“No, son; the madman didn’t. I personally examined Bruce and there’s no sign of
intercourse.”
Tony closed his eyes relieved and Alfred brought his palm to his mouth.
“Leslie” Pepper approached the doctor. “What should I tell to the carnivorous
pack out there?”
She smiled.
“I’ll give you the press release, dear. And I’ll send my report to
Commissionaire Gordon” she purged her lips. “I hope our ‘special guest’ won’t
disclose anything private…”
Alfred followed her to the door along with Pepper.
“Leslie, if you please, I’d like you to give me detailed instructions about
what I must do.”
Leslie nodded smiling compassionately to her friend.
Tony had stayed behind intending to speak alone to Selina; the young woman
confronted him with a cocked eyebrow.
“I’m listening, handsome; do you want me to break and enter to the MCU and help
you waste that scum?”
He chuckled.
“Though it’s very tempting, Selina, it’s not that” she sighed in frustration.
“Besides if we decide to get the society rid of that freak I” he squinted
smirking “undertook the construction of his cell…”
Catwoman’s eyes glimmered.
“Wicked! Don’t forget me if you make up your mind!”
“Of course not…” he twisted his mouth. “Who is that Hero guy you mentioned?
Bruce’s friend?”
She nodded and raised her eyebrows sighing.
“A friend indeed…” she whispered not looking at Tony and then turned her gaze
to him. “Hero was a kitten: I found him in a bin ill and battered and I took
him to Bruce.”
Tony gave a broad grin.
“You and Bruce had a kitten?!”
“He needed to be operated and we found the money to save him.”
“How?” Tony could say that Selina didn’t want to answer that. “C’me on, Selina!
I’m your friend…of both of you…” he widened his eyes mimicking a puppy. “I
already know that you stole to make a living but Bruce? How he?”
Selina rubbed her forehead; she could never say to Tony that Bruce stole from
Falcone’s thugs who molested him: that was Bruce’s secret to share... if he
ever felt like…
“Forget it, alright!” she snapped. “You can ask Bruce!”
Tony raised his hands in surrender impressed from Selina’s loyalty to Bruce;
this girl would never betray her friend.
“Well, what happened?”
“The kitten was healed and we raised him” she continued calmer. “I was taking
him every night to Bruce and we played behind the huge bin in Dolcetto’sback
alley; Bruce loved him so much!” she smiled fondly at the memory. “He was
tickling the kitten’s belly and was laughing and sharing with Hero the food I
was bringing him.”
“This is so nice! I mean he had you and a cute animal…I’m sure Bruce was
happy.”
Selina pinned him with her eyes.
“Chill killed the poor kitten before Bruce’s eyes!” Tony gasped. “One night we
lost track of time and Chill came out to fetch Bruce; he ran to get Chill away
from us but Hero felt Bruce’s panic and jumped from my hands and ran to
him…Anyway, Chill saw the kitten, figured out that it was Bruce’s and…” she
inhaled “killed him…”
Tony’s face became pale and he shook his head purging his lips; he could only
imagine how devastating must have been for the two children and especially for
Bruce who had managed to give his love to another being only to see that little
animal being killed.
“I can’t understand; why so much cruelty? I mean they were already starving,
torturing, humiliating the poor kid; they raped him all the time…Why he had to
kill his animal friend too? Why it bothered them if Bruce had something to give
him some joy?”
Selina lowered her head; she didn’t have an answer to give: her only answer was
the bullets she shot at that monster. Tony grabbed her shoulders and nodded to
her.
“You’re a great girl, Selina!”
She rolled her eyes irritated.
“Ugh! Alfred can say such things without consequences but not you, rich boy!
The next time you’ll say something like this, I’ll kick your ass hard!”
Tony narrowed his eyes thinking hard and then sighed melodramatically.
“Mmmm! I’ll be anxiously waiting for this, pretty!”
“Oh! Shut up!” she burst out but without hiding her laughter.
“Now I must go to our guest to tell him to wait here for a few hours…Lucius
needs only so much time.”
“You’ll tell him about the substance and all?”
Tony was thoughtful.
“Not yet; I don’t know how he’ll react: the effect is on its peak and if I say
to him that the antidote will stop his…” he grunted “love for Bruce he might
sneak out or get mad. The ideal would be for Bruce to tell him but in his
state…”
Selina tipped her finger on her lips.
“When we took Superman away from the Kryptonite Bruce was holding…almost
hugging him” Tony frowned understanding “yet the close proximity didn’t finish
off Superman on the contrary he looked revitalized. Isn’t that odd?”
Tony nodded intrigued.
 
Clark had to put up with Tony Stark’s visit. The billionaire ruined his reverie
hearing Bruce’s calm respiration and heartbeat; he already had sent to The
Planet his report on the young heir’s medical condition and he believed that he
had every right to enjoy himself monitoring his Star’s brain at the same time.
But no…Leave it to that tanned rich asshole to destroy everything. And for
what? To tell him not leave the hospital because they had something very
important for him that he just couldn’t say at the moment and bla, bla…Well,
not exactly, ‘bla bla’ because the arrogant bastard just told him to stay here
and wait and just beat it.
As if Superman was to go anywhere else while his Star lay on a hospital bed
unconscious!
Speaking of which… He made a careful scan of Bruce’s room and slipped out of
his heading to the room where the most precious being in the galaxy slept.
Clark thought that he deserved to see his Star after the encounter with Stark.
He could hear Alfred and Leslie in a another room discussing about Bruce’s
treatment at home and Selina pacing outside Bruce’s room like a loyal puppy.
Clark smirked; however he was Superman and albeit his experience with
Kryptonite he felt quite capable to enter from the window, especially since his
colleagues were preoccupied in Miss Potts’ announcements that were already
published in The Planet’ssite.
When he climbed in the room his heart melted and he flew to Bruce because
walking seemed too slow. He leaned above him and his hand slowly, hesitantly
touched his Star’s cheek that had at last the normal temperature. He closed his
eyes relishing the feeling of softness and his fingers brushed Bruce’s rosy,
slightly dry lips letting the air from the younger man’s lungs numb his
fingertips and then his entire body.
He took in Bruce’s form: his sleeping beauty, a sleeping angel with his velvety
eyelids covering gently his tired eyes. Clark caressed with both hands the
brunette locks that shone clean minding the wires: of course they had bathed
him making Clark’s guts twitch in a pang of jealousy. Only Clark should bath
that body…only he should see that body naked, admire and worship it.
He sighed in anticipation and Bruce’s unique aroma conquered his mind causing
him shivers. His hands trembling as if he was a teen grabbed the sheet on
Bruce’s body and uncovered his treasure.
Despite the fact they had dressed Bruce with a horrible hospital gown
thankfully his sight could bypass the cloth and see under it: the statue-like
human body with the perfect muscles that reminded of a professional athlete.
The pectorals, the abs, the cute belly button, the pelvis…Wait! His eyes caught
something not normal and he activated his X-Ray vision to scan more carefully
his Star’s lower spine…
He shook his head in denial. There was an injury and he wasn’t a doctor but he
knew that spinal cord injuries could lead to very nasty things…Why Dr.
Thompkins didn’t fix it? Unless she couldn’t…Oh, my… He focused his X-Ray
vision on Bruce’s pubis to scan his prostrate: not that Clark didn’t expect it,
since Bruce had told him that he couldn’t have an erection; still the sight of
how disfigured Bruce’s prostate clad was made his heart clench…
Poor Star… So beautiful, so brave, so tortured and hurt…He didn’t deserve to
suffer more from what those monsters did…
He didn’t even realized it but his lips kissed lightly Bruce’s and the taste
enchanted him; he closed his eyes and let his body dive in a sensation same
with a bath in rich sun rays… His body was ready to touch Bruce’s…
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE!?”
Clark touched Bruce’s cheek with his hand regretting that he had to part with
his lips; he knew it before turning there. Selina enraged stood in front of the
door; she rushed there and Clark was sure that she would have beaten him up if
she didn’t want to disturb Bruce’s sleep.
“Are you a pervert?” she asked lowering her voice casting a glance to her
friend’s still sleeping face. “How could you? You…you alien freak!”
She grabbed the sheet and gently covered Bruce’s body.
“What did you have in your sick mind?”
He raised his hands appeasing.
“Selina, I swear, I didn’t touch him…”
Her eyes widened and her body tensed radiating the power of an attacking
tigress.
“I saw you! You fuck! You were staring at his…” she shook her head disgusted
“and then you kissed him and if I hadn’t come in who knows what you’d have
done!”
He blushed and shook his head.
“I wouldn’t have done anything! And I wasn’t staring! I was scanning his lower
spine and…”
“You were kissing him while he is unconscious…He has been so many times
molested and you know it but still you did the same!”
“I DIDN’T MOLEST HIM! I’D NEVER HURT BRUCE!” he was shouting and his eyes were
getting slowly red.
Yet Selina narrowed her eyes and laughed at his face.
“What now, ‘boy scout’?” she asked stressing in sarcasm the ‘boy scout’.
“You’ll fry me and kidnap Bruce like Joker?”
Superman realized that she was right: his eyes had become red without his
conscious control.
“Are you nuts?” Leslie’s voice startled them.
They yanked their heads to see Leslie and Alfred.
“What’s going on?” Bruce’s voice was low but firm and had an immediate impact.
Leslie hurried to sit on the bed and cupped his chin locking his eyes.
“Nothing, dear, calm down. Everyone out!” she ordered flatly and Alfred took
Selina and Superman by the upper arms.
“I’m sorry, Bruce” Clark said to Bruce’s puzzled eyes. “It was my fault…”
Bruce couldn’t find anything to say as he felt confused without having the
slightest idea of what happened. Leslie took in her patient’s distress and her
eyes bulged to the Man of Steel.
“To your room, young man! Selina, go with him. Alfred, you can stay.”
Selina pushed Superman on the shoulder blade undeterred by the fact that he was
the most powerful being on the planet…at least, theoretically because at the
moment he was recovering.
Alfred closed the door behind them and retreated to Bruce’s bed smiling to his
young master’s gaze that followed him till he sat on the chair by his bed.
“Alfred, what happened?”
Yet Leslie touched Bruce’s cheek to gain his attention.
“Nothing important, Bruce. Tell me, how many fingers I’m showing?”
Bruce rolled his eyes; at least, Leslie didn’t show the classic two fingers.
“Three” he answered with a snort and Leslie nodded.
“How is your vision?”
Bruce made to roll his head to the pillow but Leslie kept him still.
“Answer me, young man…”
Bruce blinked.
“A bit blurry but you sedated me, right? I was seeing some golden spots before
but they almost cleared. Where’s Tony?”
Alfred cast a discreet glance at Leslie on the agony Bruce’s voice tried to
hide.
“He went to the Wayne Tower, Master Bruce, to manufacture an unbreakable cell
for Joker.”
“So…” Bruce started hesitantly “he WAS here? Right?”
Leslie raised her palm to stop Alfred from giving immediately the relieving
answer his young master wanted.
“What do you remember, Bruce?” Leslie asked affectionately but firmly.
Bruce raised his left arm which caused Leslie some worry and rubbed his temple.
“He…he came and I was with Selina. He took me and brought me…here” his eyes
were focused on Leslie’s face for any confirmation yet the doctor didn’t give
any to not influence his answers. “And then I…”
“What you did then, Bruce?” Leslie asked gently.
Bruce lowered his eyes.
“I tried to escape because I…don’t want to be here…and…it hurt…and I thought
that…” he looked at Alfred who would be more helpful. “I told him…I asked him
why he came back, right?” he pressed his lips regretfully.
Alfred couldn’t stay indifferent to Bruce’s distress and took his hand in his.
“It’s alright, Master Bruce; you were in pain and confused.”
“Are you feeling any pain, right now, Bruce?”
He nodded.
“A bit and my ears are buzzing but I remember that it was worse before. How
many hours I’m here?”
Alfred’s attempt to answer was stopped by a strict gaze from Leslie.
“What do you remember?” She asked.
Bruce sighed.
“The Haven, the party, Joker…the blow and then…Dolcetto” suddenly all shattered
images of Joker taunting him and from flashbacks came back to him and his brain
kicked inside his skull and he bit his lip to hold the grunt. “The…Corolla
Building” he tightened his voice “and the caves… It was dawn when Tony brought
me here…and now it must be…noon?”
Leslie gave a broad satisfied grin and nodded.
“You’re great, kid! Can you move your right arm?”
Bruce was hesitant to move it due to the old pain that still haunted his
nightmares yet raised it relieved that it didn’t hurt him.
“Leslie, I’m fine” a feeling of impatience bit him and he made to rise yet
Leslie gently pushed him on the mattress. “I have many things to do…and I’m
constantly in this bed.”
“You’re not ‘constantly’ in this bed…”
He shook his head exasperated and waved his hands.
“I made all these exams recently…and I don’t want to be here…” his voice was
demanding but complaining at the same time.
Leslie nodded.
“I understand yet I must observe you for 24 hours and then you can go to the
Manor and Alfred’s care.”
Bruce closed his eyes and sighed; irritation flooded him.
“I’m not fragile, Leslie! I’m tough! For eighteen years I endured and…and I’m
fine. I just want to leave…Why don’t you understand?”
Leslie cupped his face, brushing carefully the gauze covering his wound.
“I understand, sweetheart. Believe me: I prefer to see you standing and not in
the clinic but we need to be patient and careful; do you understand that,
sweetie?”
All these sweet talking pained his mind: it seemed as it was for a stranger not
him. He wasn’t someone to sweet talk; he was Falcone’s sex toy, his slave; an
object to take out his frustration and sick imagination. And…and shatters came
of his mom and Hero leaving him again .
“Can you stop cajoling me?!” his voice burst out harsher than he meant to and
Alfred’s eyes widened yet Leslie was completely poised. “I’m not a kid! I
stopped being a kid from…” his voice cut abruptly. “Sweet talking isn’t for
me!” his eyes flared up and then he let his head roll on the pillow closing his
eyes exhausted.
“It’s okay, Bruce…” Leslie said calm. “Everything will be fine.”
A knock on the door surprised them. Leslie frowned and called them in. Alfred’s
eyes widened slightly and Leslie squinted: Lex Luthor here?
The tycoon entered with his usual strut somehow hesitant.
“I’m sorry for the intrusion…I don’t want to disturb you…”
“But you do!” Leslie snapped. “How you got here?”
She stood and confronted the man who gave a nervous smile.
“You’re right to be mad at me, Dr. Thompkins. I was just worried” Leslie cocked
her eyebrows “and I wanted to see how Bruce…eh…Mr. Wayne is doing.”
Leslie rolled her eyes and lolled her head.
“Get out, Mr. Luthor!”
“No!” Bruce’s weak voice shocked both her and Alfred. “Let him…”
Luthor walked eagerly to the bed and sighed in relief.
“Oh! I’m so relieved seeing you wake, Mr. Wayne…” he smiled. “When that madman
took you there was too much blood and they were saying things…” he sighed. “But
now I’m sure that with Dr. Thompkins’ exceptional care you’ll be quickly back
to us. I brought some flowers” he revealed the impressive bouquet he was hiding
behind his back “to wish you to get well soon…”
“Thank you, Mr. Luthor” Bruce said smiling weakly.
“Call me Lex, Bruce. And…if I’m not too pestering…” he blushed “our dinner is
still on?”
Bruce clenched his fist and the ECG’s tone peaked slightly and Leslie
intervened.
“Mr. Wayne’s condition still doesn’t allow visits; you’re tiring him...”
“Yes, Lex, I’m tired now; I’ll need some time to…” he smirked and gestured to
the gauze “look appropriate again.”
Luthor smiled and his eyes shone wickedly which made Bruce angry though he hid
it well.
“You’re as gorgeous as ever, Bruce!” he licked his lips. “So, I take it that
our…dinner is fixed? We’ll be in touch…”
“Of course, Lex” he smiled weakly but his eyes were cold and steely and Alfred
hastened to escort politely Luthor outside.
 
Superman in his room was arguing with Selina keeping an ear to Bruce’s room.
From the moment Luthor made his appearance he lost his touch with his
environment and especially Selina’s enraged lecture because his jealous
heartbeat covered everything except his Star’s voice calling Luthor ‘Lex’ and
assuring him that their date was still on.
Selina saw frowning Superman’s detachment and his fisted hands.
“What?!”
He turned to her and his eyes were red: how could Bruce forget that he almost
died to save him and flirt with Luthor from all people? That was…
“I’m out of here…” he spat to the young woman. “I had had enough of you
humans…You don’t deserve my patience” he shook his head. “I heard enough
insults from all of you and frankly there’s nothing here for me to stay!”
He span and the next time Selina saw him he was dressed with a suit much like
Superman’s but more…formal?
“You can’t go!” she said unfazed by his grandeur.
He cocked his eyebrows sarcastic and crossed his arms.
“Really?!” he chuckled. “I’ve indulged too much you, humans, to make you think
that you can order me!” he gritted his teeth to Selina’s face and the young
woman yanked her head challengingly.
“I don’t order you, you…Darth Vader! It’s for your own good; Lucius and Tony
created the medicine for the weakness you experience all this time. It’ll be
ready in a few hours and you’ll feel better.”
Superman frowned and squinted at her: yes, there were some strange things
happening the last time but…weakness? How dare she?
“I’m not weak, human!” Selina rolled her eyes feeling like starring in a bad
sci-fi movie. “And I won’t take any poison Stark will give me to push me away
from my Star!”
Now Selina was enraged: what star? What was he saying? He was going nuts!
“Bruce would want you to take it!” she shouted as he was ready to take off
heading to smash the wall though the window was open.
He halted on his heels hearing his Star’s name and slowly turned to her and
Selina’s eyes widened seeing two red pupils where the clear blue used to shine.
“All of you tried to keep me away from my Star” Selina’s mouth twitched: so
Bruce was Superman’s Star?! “Now you attempt to use him to control me as Joker
used him to lure and poison me” his voice was hoarse and completely foreign to
the voice Selina knew. “But I tolerated enough and when I come back nobody will
separate us again!”
“Superman, wait!” she called as he smashed the wall.
He lolled his head to her, smirking devilishly.
“It’s Kal El, dear…” he sniggered and took off.
Selina walked to the gaping wall and gazed at his flying form. She clutched her
hip and pursed her lips.
“Nice…Superman with a second personality. I think we have a problem…” she
cocked an eyebrow.
 
 
***** Chapter 48 *****
“Tell me more about the demon” Talia’s demanding voice echoed in the empty
temple.
Ubu closed his eyes.
“Mistress Talia, why don’t you leave that? Your father needed the creature for
one specific task and for that sacrificed the boy…”
Talia crossed her arms and cocked a sarcastic eyebrow.
“The demon didn’t claim the boy’s life” she snorted “don’t be so dramatic!”
Ubu raised his emotionless eyes and pinned her with their sudden flame.
“There are many ways someone can be sacrificed…” he said loud stressing each
word. “Given to a demon to satisfy his carnal desire is worse than being killed
to quench his blood thirst…”
She twisted her lips, rolling her eyes: could Ubu have been fucking the boy
too? This was getting outrageous! No, not Ubu…Bane would have informed her.
“Anyway…” she shrugged “You summoned the demon, you knew about the demon; so I
want your knowledge about him.”
Ubu’s gaze was lost in the wild scenery of the open window and Talia sighed.
“Your father knew about that demon; your father chose that demon…It wasn’t
difficult for me to summon him…” he inhaled. “I just prepared the boy’s body
for the demon…”
“To not feel pain.”
Ubu’s stare was strict as when he was teaching her and she was expressing her
arrogance.
“There’s no way that kind of intercourse being painless for a human, especially
for a fourteen year old child…”
Here we go again…Talia felt irritation because although Ubu’s voice was
emotionless as ever she could detect sympathy and regret.
“Ubu, you’re…”
“There was unimaginable pain, despair, blood and…death!” he interrupted her as
if he hadn’t heard and the rattling of his teeth made her shudder.
She furrowed her brow.
“Bruce…died?” she inquired puzzled.
“There is more than one kind of death” he answered more mysterious than ever
and Talia felt a rush of impatience.
“Ubu…”
He turned to her.
“He reached the threshold; the demon was so carried away from the boy that
didn’t hold up: his power was too much for a frail body and the blood was
running like a river. I told your father that the demon was killing the boy and
we should do something but he stopped me saying that in this stage nothing can
be done…” Ubu closed his eyes. “Your father was fascinated with how the demon
copulated with the helpless boy; how his immense power was destroying the human
body…”
Talia shook her head not understanding.
“Then how comes and Bruce is still alive?”
Ubu let his eyelids cover his eyes; tired or reluctant to answer Talia couldn’t
decide.
“Because the demon didn’t want him dead” he said. “The demon drank the boy’s
blood and created what your father wanted: the special Kryptonite…”
Talia jerked from the sudden realization.
“So the black veins in the Kryptonite are Bruce’s blood?”
He nodded.
Talia’s eyes flashed; that was incredible. Not only her father made the boy’s
body a magnet for Superman but also created a special Kryptonite to make the
alien crave for his own death. She smiled.
“Yes, but why the demon stopped Bruce’s death: I bet he didn’t give a damn…”
Ubu kept his eyes closed inhaling the freezing aura of the Himalayas.
“You must understand that the demon didn’t want to kill the boy…His body just
recognized what he was searching for centuries and reacted as before forgetting
that he was now copulating with a human…When he realized that the human was
dying stopped the development and let his seed inside the boy’s body…”
Talia squinted; Ubu wasn’t willing to tell her everything if not asked.
“Master Ubu, your answers create new questions as always” she said to the man’s
closed eyes. “What was the demon looking for that found in that brat?”
Ubu opened his eyes and locked eyes with her.
“Lilith…His ancient mate.”
She frowned and Ubu inhaled deeply.
“Your father knew that Bagdana was constantly searching for his lost mate…”
“Bagdana was the demon you summoned?”
“Yes” he nodded slowly. “Bagdana and Lilith were ancient demons, their mating
going back to the birth of this planet: Bagdana was the demon of the earth, the
one that formed the minerals and the gems. He had the power to tame the guts of
the earth and the beauty of every precious stone there is…Lilith was the female
demon of the upper world, of the night; her long waist length hair raven blue
as the midnight sky, beautiful like the stars and enchanting like the moon’s
glow. Their coupling made the earth shaking, the volcanoes explode and the
night sky ripped by great lightning to give new stars and new gemstones
combining Bagdana’s strength and Lilith’s shine.”
Talia watched with narrowed eyes; she was the daughter of the Demon’s Head
however such stories always made her cock an eyebrow. Studying Philosophy
taught her to search for proofs but never deny what she couldn’t explain
because nothing in this world and especially in mythology was without a reason;
truth was hidden cleverly in myths and legends.
“Ancient demons?”
“They ruled the earth thousand years before the first gods and the humans
occurred. But when humans began inhabiting the earth Lilith developed a huge
interest on human males; she was copulating with them using her irresistible
beauty and aroma to confuse and charm them into serving her. Bagdana was sick
of jealousy but as long as Lilith was just playing with humans and remained his
mate he was calm but worried: he warned Lilith that her game could destroy her
because humans were bizarre and dangerous creatures though weak yet she didn’t
listen to him. And one day Lilith really fell for a mortal and abandoned
Bagdana to live with humans and give her mortal man children; Bagdana was
devastated and furious for the betrayal and made the earth shake and the
volcanoes explode and the mountains collapse killing people with rocks…But it
was the era of the second generation of pagan gods: they wanted to dethrone
Bagdana and his preoccupation with Lilith’s betrayal gave them the chance. Zeus
with his brothers and sisters beat Bagdana and his minion demons imprisoning
him to the deeper depths of Earth, the Tartarus.”
“Bagdana is the same entity as Cronos, the greek God?”
 “He and his enemies have many names… Bagdana remained in earth’s guts but he
sensed it: men searching the reason behind the calamities that Bagdana’s wrath
caused them discovered that a demon lived among them; a demon who had
humiliated hundreds of men and brought the curse on them; a woman with
unmatched beauty. And one of them slew her; the one who took the name ‘Demon’s
Head’ because he managed to hold a demon’s severed head.”
Talia’s eyes bulged.
“My father?!”
Ubu smirked.
“A distant ancestor who started the line of Ra’s Al Ghul as the protector of
justice in the human race and leader of the League of Shadows: the name given
to these men who were able to master the shadows so much to discern the demon
even among the shadows. And through his family’s legends your father learnt
about Bagdana and Lilith; and how Bagdana pulverized the men who guarded his
fallen mate’s body and tried to take it with him to try to revive her. Yet as
he began descending to his realm Lilith’s body became star powder and spread to
the entire night sky to watch always her human spouse and her children…From
then Bagdana remained in the shadows mourning and searching for his lost mate
becoming the Incubus: the male demon who coupled with humans desperate to find
his Lilith’s mark among them; people knew that he’ll give the riches of the
earth to the one who’d give him what he wanted but the punishment for those who
fooled him was gruesome…”
“I know that my father didn’t afraid him…yet how was he sure that Bruce was
what Bagdana wanted?”
Ubu knitted his brows.
“Although your father was obsessed with Bagdana’s and Lilith’s story because it
was part of his heritage and believed that Lilith’s line wasn’t lost in
centuries, he was devoted in his work; his life’s biggest ambition: destroying
Gotham. For him this city was the modern Babylon of Revelation; the capital of
crime, corruption and human decay. He wanted to let this city reach the bottom
of rot so to destroy it in a manifestation of justice’s wrath – a fierce
example to the world. Yet there was an obstacle to Gotham’s complete fall and
the implementation of Ra’s’ plans: city’s most important couple, the Waynes.
Thomas and Martha Wayne struggled with the city’s decadence and gave the crutch
to Gotham’s torturous limping; the illusion of hope.”
Talia’s eyes widened in anticipation.
“Ra’s wanted to squash every hint of hope for this cursed city showing to
everyone that even their protectors, the Waynes were corrupt. But the young
couple was incorruptible so your father lurked and created connections with the
city’s underworld waiting the big opportunity.”
“To kill them” Talia hissed.
Ubu shook his head in denial.
“No, he wanted their moral ‘death’ so that everyone in Gotham would follow them
in Hell. When Ra’s learnt that Martha Wayne was to have a child he got ready:
he was going to kill the child as soon as it was born to drive the parents
insane and lead them to horrible acts.”
“And then why he didn’t?” Talia couldn’t halt herself from asking.
Ubu smirked for her impatience because he knew that his new Mistress prided
herself for her self-control.
“He slipped into Martha’s room; he took the newborn that didn’t make a sound
just watched the stranger. He was ready to snap the baby’s neck when his eye
caught the birthmark on the infant’s left foot.”
“Birthmark?”
“A leaf-like smudge on the big toe” Talia squinted; she was ready to ask why
this was so important for her father but Ubu read her mind. “Your father
immediately remembered the legend of Lilith and Bagdana: Lilith had a leaf on
her shoulder that passed to her human descendants until it got lost.”
Talia nodded.
“And Ra’s believed that the baby was – what? – a distant descendant?”
“Your father was a clever man: he wasn’t sure but he couldn’t hasten to kill
the boy either. So he began searching the bloodline of Lilith and her human
mate. The human male that according to the legends fascinated Lilith was Cain…
Ra’s followed their supposed line even though they tried to be protected by the
demon slayers, those who wanted to use them to get Bagdana’s riches and the
Inquisition by migrating, faking their deaths or changing their name…’’
“And?”
“America was the New World; the world of new beginnings; the best place for
someone who wanted to hide and start anew with a fake name…”
Talia prompted him with a nod.
“One of the prominent families of Gotham had the name of Cain…or that’s what
your father believed; Martha’s family.”
“Martha Kane…!” despite her cold and hard-to-impress character Talia felt a
jolt. “That was the reason my father watched the child and took him under his
wings…” she inhaled. “And that was the reason he couldn’t stop fucking the
child” she shook her head. “Self-suggestion: he believed that the boy had the
seductive power of Lilith! After that he was certain that Superman will fall
for Bruce…” Ubu was nodding.
“Bagdana in Ra’s’ basement rediscovered his Lilith or something close to that:
we had blindfolded the child to not see the demon with bare eyes yet the demon
took off the fabric and the boy was looking him in the eyes without cowering;
the demon talked to him in a way we couldn’t understand anything yet the boy
answered to him. The demon was so captivated by the boy that manifested all his
gem glory, his shape shifting magic and…he forgot that the body underneath him
was a frail human body and almost killed him. Yet upon realizing stopped the
dying process…”
Ubu’s voice had the familiar tone of the unwillingness to keep talking that
Talia knew from her training days yet she had questions.
“Ra’s believed that had discovered Lilith’s last descendant in Martha Kane yet
that doesn’t mean that her boy had anything special. Thousands of years passed
of marriages and couplings that alienated the blood of the ancient demon” she
lifted her eyebrows. “Martha Kane didn’t qualify as the definition of a demon’s
descendant; she was an ardent philanthropist…”
“As Lilith chose humans…” Ubu had his eyes half closed as if meditating.
Talia smirked.
“So my father changed his initial plan believing that the Wayne heir was
Lilith’s descendant – but bearing a vague mark doesn’t mean that the boy was
indeed special.”
The man gazed at the blue horizon and after a minute of collection he turned to
his former student.
“Ra’s was fascinated by the ancient myths and legends but he was also a
practical man: so he decided to watch the boy growing up and if he manifested
interesting qualities take him and raising him to be his avenging ‘demon’; a
‘demon’ he would totally control.”
“And what about the Waynes?” she asked slyly. “My father wouldn’t have left
that part of the boy’s genes unchecked.”
Ubu took a pinch of dried lotus and cast it to the flames of a candle sending
the air with a discreet but so nostalgic for Talia perfume.
“You’re cunning as you father, Mistress Talia. He found that their lineage goes
back to the first colonists still unlike other families Waynes’ roots in Europe
are lost. Your father couldn’t find their European ancestors; a sign that they
hid things too or ignored the truth…”
“And he let it to chance?”
“Ra’s knew all he needed; that Waynes was an outstanding family with grand men
and women who left their sign in Gotham’s history. But his main concern was the
boy: if the boy was what he hoped then by taking him he would have both his
dreams’ warrior and the Waynes’ distraught and wrath for Gotham. He kept
watching the child as he grew and his beliefs were confirmed when the boy even
in a young age manifested his intelligence and charm to the people; even people
hopeless as those of the Narrows loved the boy, calling him ‘the Angel of the
Narrows’…” Talia smirked. “Your father craved to experiment his assumptions
about the boy so he prepared his move…Even if Bruce wasn’t Lilith’s descendant
he was a Wayne and he could with his qualities and his training serve perfectly
his plans for Gotham’s catharsis.”
“Bruce’s kidnapping by Falcone was my father’s plan?”
“No; Falcone acted on his own accord urged by his greediness and his stupidity
made him chop the boy’s toe with the legendary as your father believed mark…”
Yet Talia’s thirst wasn’t quenched; he wanted to know everything concerning his
father’s motives to acquire the boy.
“But what about the Waynes’ anchestry?”
Ubu shook his head.
“Ra’s believed that they descended from something equally important as Kanes:
demons, kings, great philosophers or…”
“Or?”
“Gods…”
Talia snorted, her scorn for Bruce returning with new fervor.
“You want to tell me that Bruce Wayne, the lamentable boy toy, the sex slave,
the junk is a descendant of demons and gods? Do you honestly believe all
these?”
Ubu looked her in the eyes firmly.
“You asked me to tell you, mistress Talia the motives that drived your father…
My humble opinion has no importance” his thick eyebrows made a proud arch “your
father cherished legends of the ancient people and searched for the truth they
hid: after all, people of the old ages and modern people use the same words
with different meaning.”
“You trained him” she said impatient crossing her arms “does he have superhuman
powers?”
Ubu made something that rarely did if ever: he chuckled.
“As in…flying, stopping trains with his bare hands, shooting fire from his eyes
or run faster than the wind?” he shook his head in the negative. “But if you
mean iron willpower, strength of character, sharp mind and physical skills,
charm to other people and causing infatuation: yes, my student impressed me…”
he closed his eyes and Talia knew that he was seeing again the skinny boy that
Ra’s gave him to train.
A thought crossed Talia’s mind and she squinted.
“You know about Waynes’ lineage…”
Ubu didn’t blink.
“You won’t tell me as you didn’t tell my father…” she nodded, purging her lips.
“Fine. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Bruce Wayne is my prized
property and soon I’ll get him, regardless of whose blood runs in his veins.”
Ubu sighed.
“Mistress Talia, I plead that you’ll listen to me and leave that man alone:
your father made him suffer enough. Let him find his peace…”
“He’ll pay for what he did to my father!”
Ubu closed his eyes.
“Talia, child, you must not attempt to harm that man…”
She was enraged by his fear.
“Bruce is a great asset! Whether he is the descendant of Lilith or not isn’t
important; yet that ancient demon left his seed in him giving him abilities and
manifesting his preference to him. So if I have him I can control the ancient
demon.”
Ubu grabbed her shoulders in a way so unlike him; his eyes widened.
“Don’t attempt that, child; your father didn’t: despite his ambition he didn’t
attempt that” Talia sobered. “You have so many ancient weapons in your
disposal: don’t let greediness lead you there. Let the ancient creature in his
realm.”
“Which is the ancestry of the Waynes?” she demanded but Ubu turned his back and
left her.
The young leader of the Shadows leaned on the cement railing of the round
shaped patio replaying in her mind everything Ubu had told her some weeks ago
in the ancient temple-dojo. Her teacher told her many things, intriguing things
and left others unsaid. Yet he didn’t say if all these were true; he just
relayed what her father believed, what caused his obsession with Wayne.
Talia doubted the Kanes’ connection with Cain and Lilith or the Waynes’
mysterious origins; besides even if these two families had some extraordinary
ancestors thousands years had passed and blood and genes lost their special
qualities – Ubu admitted that Bruce had no superpowers though his human skills
were impressive.
And to that she agreed: Bruce was special and an asset to anyone who’d manage
to tame and leash him. She raised an eyebrow: she will be the one to tame that
wayward power. The day had come to set the last phase of her plan in motion.
 
Harvey stepped out of the elevator to his office and his colleagues in the DA’s
office; people were gathered in front of the coffee machine and chat before
setting off to the day’s work.
At last, some normality, Harvey thought. Two days had passed since the hostage
situation in the Haven’s official opening and Bruce Wayne’s kidnapping. And his
father’s injury… He sighed remembering the moments in the atrium with his
father bleeding in his arms having just saved him from Joker’s bullet.
Thankfully, his father’s recovering was going very well; good ol’ Steve ran
some fever but it was immediately dealt with and he would be discharged in a
few days.
Harvey wasn’t a very emotional man in the sense that he wasn’t one to shed
tears. Yet whenever he brought in his mind the moment his father woke up in the
hospital room and saw him on his side something burned his eyes.
“Ares?” his father had asked in disbelief and joy and Harvey understood that
the man wasn’t sure if his son was real or a product of sedation.
“Nai, patera…” he reassured him using two words that he had years to use: ‘yes,
dad’.
The troubled man was already touched hearing his son speaking Greek and
especially call him ‘patera’ but cried when Harvey kissed his hand. His humble
eyes had widened surprised on Harvey’s deed and Harvey knew the reason: they
both remembered Harvey’s words when he found out about his father’s job.
“Get your hands off me!” he had shouted at his father when he tried to touch
his shoulders while his mother watched dumbfounded. “Your hands are filthy!
Stained with innocent people’s blood! All those people Falcone ordered you to
kill! How could you?! Being one of Falcone’s thugs, the hired gorillas who
terrorize and beat people to a pulp for getting money for their boss! You
disgust me!”
“I’m sorry, Ares” he didn’t raise his voice; his guilt it was evident. “I got
involved very young: I was unemployed and you were just a baby and I didn’t
think right and I decided to work for Falcone…”
“And do you think this is an excuse?!” he was so mad that he couldn’t laugh
with the lamentable explanation of his father. “Making a living by killing
other people?! For God’s sake! You’re despicable! And I believed you decent and
I was proud because o pateras mou remained clean in a dirty city…You were my
hero!” he shook his head.
“Ares, please” his mother had intervened. “Understand your father: Gotham is a
difficult city to live and provide for your family. He feels horrible…”
Harvey rubbed his forehead; he was still in his ‘good attire’ because he had
just returned from the Gotham’s academy where he was studying hard to get the
grades that would permit him to go to the law school to be an attorney; his
dream was to return in Gotham and become a DA not for gaining a fortune serving
Gotham’s Emperor and biggest criminal but for bringing that scum to justice.
Actually, his teacher had called him to give him the papers from Harvard’s law
school with which they informed him that he was accepted with a very honorable
scholarship.
And now he learnt that his father, his hard working father as he believed, was
actually ‘working hard’ on breaking bones of innocent people! He had seen him
on the way home: he was in the subway when at a halt in the Narrows saw his
father having cornered a poor man – probably someone that Falcone squeezed for
protection – and along with his pals beati him.
“Falcone’s lads work overtime!” a fellow passenger croaked.
“You know him?” Harvey had asked frowned.
“Who, laddy?”
“The tall, raven haired guy with the small bald.”
“Steve the Greek?” Harvey’s brain stopped working. “Oi! He’s a veteran…”
He turned furious to his mother: how could she make excuses for his father?
“This isn’t an excuse!” he jerked his hand to the air. “If he couldn’t afford
he could left that shithole! He could have gone somewhere else to live as a
proper human being not Falcone’s dog!”
“Ares, stop!” his mother cried.
“No, I won’t! He buys our food from the pennies of the drug addicts and the
poor girls Falcone pimps! Our good times were provided by the screams of pain
of people he beat…or worse! I was accepted to Harvard’s Law School while my
father is the killing tool of the worst mobster in America!”
“Ares, I didn’t kill anyone…” his father’s eyes had the same tired, sad
expression that always made Harvey feel bad for his father’s struggle to make a
living for his family. But not today! Not now he knew the truth.
“I don’t believe you, Steve the Greek” Harvey hissed the thug’s name and purged
his lips. “After all, my entire life you were feeding me lies…”
He bit his lip, clenched his jaw and yanked his head determined.
“I’m out of here…” he declared calm. “I can’t keep living with a criminal,
someone who serves Falcone! I don’t want any relation with you!” he turned
towards the door.
His mother followed him.
“No, Ares…Please.”
“You can come with me, mom…”
His father didn’t dare to approach him, his head lowered to his chest.
“You’re right, Ares. I hate myself too…but if I had tried to leave them they’d
have killed you…Believe me, I don’t care about me but you and your mother…”
Harvey clenched his waist and shook his head.
“One can always find plenty of excuses…” he looked at his mother’s tearful
eyes. “I can’t stay with him…”
He heard his father’s gulp.
“You’ll need money, Ares…Let me…”
Harvey jerked his head to him his eyes were sending daggers.
“I don’t want your bloodstained money! Falcone’s money! I earned a decent
scholarship and I’ll work hard but I won’t take anything from you! As a matter
of fact, from now on I don’t want to ever hear from you even for your funeral!”
And that man almost died to save him… A man who attempted to leave Falcone’s
gang and was almost killed for that; Batman saved his life and then Bruce Wayne
gave him a second chance; Bruce Wayne believed in his father when he, his son,
didn’t.
“I’m sorry, dad for the hard things I told you…” he had said to his father, the
IVs connected to his hand and the steady beat of the ECG reminding him
constantly that he almost lost him.
“You were right, Ares” the man shook his head. “I was a horrible man and I made
both you and your mother miserable: and it was the best thing you left and
found your path to become a man with honor unlike…your father…”
Harvey squeezed gently his hand smiling.
“My father is a great man though he was forced to live among scum; you managed
to remain the good man you were with us and you helped convict Falcone. Bruce…”
Steve immediately widened his eyes remembering what happened.
“How’s Mr. Wayne? Is he alright? That nutcase…”
The ECG beat loudly and Harvey hastened to calm his father.
“He is fine, dad; safe at Dr. Thompkins’ clinic. Batman and Ironman saved him
and they busted Joker.”
Mr. Petrou shook his head thoughtful.
“After the boy saved all of us…”
Robert intercepted him offering a cup of steaming coffee.
“Good morning, boss! How’s your favorite patient?”
Robert knew about Harvey’s visits to Mr. Petrou but ignored their relationship;
he thought that Harvey was just grateful.
“He is fine, Rob; They’ll discharge him in a few days.”
Robert lifted an impressed eyebrow.
“The guy is tough: he recovered rather quickly.”
Harvey shrugged.
“He’ll need extra time to fully recuperate but doctors say that he can be at
house.”
“Does he have any family to take care of him?”
Harvey felt his pores spurting sweat; he closed his eyes but he did it sipping
his coffee so it didn’t look odd. He was ashamed for not crying out loud that
this brave man was his father or at least confessing to a trustworthy man like
Robert who was looking him expectantly. And the thought that his father would
go to an empty apartment after his discharge from the hospital annoyed him.
“How are things here?” Harvey asked casually.
Robert was a smart man and Harvey saw that his friend understood that the DA
wanted to change the subject.
“Sourilo signed your proposition to assign Stark to construct Joker’s cell and
to keep the criminal under sedation till the cell is ready. I bet Stark will
make his wonders…”
“Nice” he continued his route to the office Robert following. “What about the
incident in Dr. Thompkins’ clinic?”
Robert closed the door.
“They claimed that it was an accident…”
Harvey put his briefcase on the desk and shook his head raising his eyebrows.
“A hell of an accident to leave a huge hole in the wall without any explosion;
and in a building with the highest security standards. Do we know who the
patient in the room was?”
His colleague shook his head in the negative.
“There was no patient in the room: police checked the book of the clinic.”
“Did they ask the personnel?”
Robert lolled his head on the side.
“Everyone confirmed Dr. Thompkins’ statement…And, honestly, Harvey: do you
believe these people deserve to be treated with disbelief? As they didn’t
suffer enough with Mr. Wayne’s adventure.”
Harvey sipped again from his coffee.
“I just try to protect him, Rob: if someone broke a wall to the clinic he is
treated then we ought to check it so that we don’t have another Joker
situation.”
Robert nodded.
“I’m sure that Gordon checked everything thoroughly and I’m positive that Mr.
Wayne’s people want his safety more than us and there were no indications of an
explosive in the room so either Superman began a career in demolitions or
indeed there was an accident and I’m sure they’ll take every possible measure
to not happen again. Mr. Fox explained everything to Commissionaire.”
“What?” Harvey yanked his head from the papers he was perusing to regard his
silent friend.
“You didn’t answer me about Mr. Petrou: does he have any family?” his friend’s
gaze had something of a deeper knowledge.
“His wife died few years ago…” he answered indifferently.
Robert pressed his lips and nodded.
“Who would expect from an ex-thug to be so brave to risk his life for a
stranger… I mean apart from Mr. Wayne who vouched for him. Did you believe that
Falcone’s thug would be such a decent man?”
Harvey raised his eyes and sighed.
“He is my father, Rob…”
 
Alfred hurried to open the main door of the Manor for Bruce to enter and the
young man rolled his eyes annoyed letting Tony and Selina -the young woman had
waited them there - to pass first.
“You first drove me here and didn’t let me take my car…” something crossed his
mind “anyway the car Tony gave me” Tony made a grimace and Selina elbowed him.
“Then you ran to open the door of the Rolls for me and now you hurried to open
the Manor’s door as if I’m completely useless. It was a concussion, Alfred! I
didn’t break my both hands!”
Tony and Selina sensed Bruce’s unreasonable irritation and the tycoon was ready
to chasten his friend but Alfred cast him a warning glance and gave a poised
smile to his young master.
“I humbly apologize, sir; it didn’t cross my mind that my hastiness would be so
unpleasant to you but you don’t happen to have the Manor’s key, do you?”
Bruce closed his eyes and lolled his head rubbing his temple; it didn’t pain
yet it felt weird.
“I don’t…” he lowered his tone. “And…nothing you did was unpleasant.”
Alfred gave a wide grin.
“That’s quite the relief, sir! Shall we go inside?”
Bruce stepped in and looked around in a strange way that made Selina and Tony
exchange uneasy glances and Alfred berate them with a strict gaze that made
them fasten their pace towards the lounge. Alfred’s worried eyes followed
Bruce’s hesitant steps towards the fireplace where he was immediately
captivated by the painting Billy had given him.
Bruce brushed his parents’ faces and Alfred inhaled and left for the kitchen.
He heard his butler’s inhale but didn’t take his eyes from the beautiful
painting. He felt a continuous irritation from the moment he woke up in the
clinic; every stimulus neutral or even not unpleasant made something flare up
inside him and he knew that this was unreasonable yet, and that was the worst,
he didn’t have the mood to stop it from spurting. Of course most of the times
his willpower intervened to stop the unfair outburst but sometimes not even
that was enough. He knew that it wasn’t other people’s fault yet he was always
upset.
His eyes focused again on the painting and he saw his father’s face the first
time he went to the caves and then his mother leaving him holding Hero. And
then two deep red eyes that didn’t look like human…
He turned to his friends.
“Why you didn’t tell me immediately that Superman split?” he demanded flatly
with his eyes narrowed.
Tony crossed his arms; Bruce could see that he was tired probably from things
irrelevant to physical fatigue.
“You had just woken up from sedation; we didn’t want to upset you” he lifted
his eyebrows “but we did tell you.”
Bruce nodded; they tried to protect him…He knew their love yet their
protectiveness was getting on his nerves…It was stupid to be protective now
after all these years that whatever damage had already happened…and he was
strong now…he wasn’t the fragile kid. He felt again that hot overflow raising
his heartbeat wanting to break his dam and hit his friends. He closed his
eyes…No; it’s the drugs and the damn concussion; it’s not their fault if your
life is a mess.
Selina left the window ledge where she had sat and came to him.
“It was my fault, Bruce” he frowned. “We were fighting when he…” she shook her
head “changed and broke the wall to fly away; but I couldn’t stay silent…”
He nodded.
“Because of what happened in my room when I was sleeping…”
Tony approached interested: Selina hadn’t told him anything and he craved to
know. But the young woman till now didn’t tell.
“What happened, Selina?” Bruce asked calm.
“He was kissing you, Bruce! He had thrown away the sheet that covered your body
and he was kissing you; and his body was ready to…” she shook her head. “It was
sick…”
Tony huffed and fisted his hand; he was so happy he kept the Kryptonite Joker
used.
“He’s a pervert!” Tony said.
But Bruce sighed and just turned his back on them.
“The effect gets stronger…” he answered flatly.
Tony grabbed him from the shoulders though those last 48 hours he was hesitant
to touch him: Bruce’s screams of pain on the clinic’s rooftop still freezing
his blood. A guilt, a feeling that he had no right to be near his friend were
constantly there.
“If he had stayed now he’d already have taken the antidote and everything would
have been fine. But he preferred to fly away angry at everyone.”
“Judging from what Selina told me he must have heard me talking to Luthor” he
said without turning to face Tony. “And…”
Selina shook her head.
“He was jealous” she finished Bruce’s phrase saying what he wouldn’t. “He
shouted that we try to separate him from you – which by the way is true but not
for the reasons he imagines – and he called you…” Selina stilled her eyes on
Bruce’s hair as if she could see his reaction even if he had his back on her.
“his Star” she stressed the words.
“Your eyes are like star sapphires the way the emerald green waves through the
blue so can I call you ‘Star’?” the man of steel put as much sweetness as he
had in his voice.
 “I am called much worse...”
Bruce closed his eyes: how stupid he was! He had let himself being carried away
by Superman’s kindness and cultivated his attraction to him.
“When I first met Superman he asked me my name and I couldn’t tell him the
truth…”
“If you did I’d be very pissed: you hadn’t told even me…” Tony shook his head.
“So he asked me if he could call me…” Bruce hesitated and sighed “Star. And I
agreed…”
Tony lowered his eyes and purged his lips.
“The fact is that he was very pissed and said that the next time nothing would
separate him from you” Selina most practical said.
Tony stretched his hand.
“And this is why you must hide for a while; till we find him and give him the
vaccine.”
Bruce rolled his eyes and turned to face them.
“I won’t hide! Superman won’t hurt me.”
Selina crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.
“Superman maybe not but…Kal-El?” she locked eyes with Bruce. “When I called him
Superman he mocked me saying that he is Kal-El…whatever that means.”
Tony looked puzzled at Bruce.
“It’s his Kryptonian name” he answered flatly.
“How do you know?” Tony asked.
“Ra’s gave me intensive lessons about Superman…” he rubbed his temple. “I won’t
hide: if he as Selina said is very suspicious of you he wouldn’t take the
vaccine – I must talk to him.”
Tony shook his head determined.
“That’s out of the question! It’s too dangerous! He is angry at people and
jealous of you speaking with Luthor: you don’t know how he will react when he
sees you – especially if you try to persuade him to take what he considers a
poison.”
Selina lolled her head on the side and stretched her lips.
“It’s true, Bruce; he is dangerous. When he heard you talking with Luthor his
eyes became red, his voice different and he put on a fancy, grandiose outfit.
And…he demolished a wall.”
Indeed, poor Leslie had her hands full into explaining to the police how that
happened; thankfully, Lucius found a reasonable explanation and Gordon seemed
satisfied.
“I won’t risk your life” Tony said. “We’ll find him – Avengers are already
looking for him” Bruce’s eyes bulged outraged “and then we’ll use Kryptonite to
subdue him till he takes the antidote and comes to his senses.”
Bruce felt the lava wave of rage detonating his heart; how could Tony bring
Avengers into these behind his back? They could hurt Clark on the process and
they didn’t give a damn for that. He walked furiously away from them to the big
window.
“You shouldn’t have brought SHIELD to this!” he snapped. “And Kryptonite?! You
could kill him in the weakened state he is! He isn’t dangerous” he said keeping
his eyes on the tranquil scenery of the grounds. “He might have an outburst in
the clinic but after that he saved people from a burning building” Bruce
retorted “and despite his anger he didn’t hurt Selina though he could.”
“That’s true” Selina admitted.
Tony approached Bruce and the younger man felt a cringe that didn’t show yet
Tony sensed it and frowned.
“It’s not the SHIELD” he nodded to give emphasis “but the Avengers” yet Bruce
yanked his head backwards rolling his eyes.
“SHIELD or Avengers: don’t bring them in Gotham!” his eyes flashed more than
the scary lenses in his cowl and his voice came out as a growl.
Tony wasn’t the most even - tempered man in the world so Bruce’s response
really annoyed him. Yet he kept firmly in his mind that his friend just came
out of a concussion and a forced use of psychotropic drugs.
“I understand your point, buddy, yet Superman’s behavior is a world issue so we
must find him ASAP using every means. And I trust my teammates.”
Bruce turned his face away to regard the horizon and Tony lolled his head to
Selina who shrugged.
“You won’t use Kryptonite on him” Bruce said.
“I’ll give you the Kryptonite, Bruce: if he attempts anything you need to
protect yourself.”
“No!” he shouted without turning to him realizing that he shouldn’t have done
that yet feeling his heartbeat throbbing demandingly. “He won’t hurt me; I’ll
speak to him…”
“Bruce…” Selina had approached “I think that Tony is right: you can’t be
certain. You said that Superman isn’t himself; you don’t know how he’ll react.
You must have some protection.”
What was that now? He felt betrayed by Selina of all people? He closed his eyes
and used a relaxation technique to calm his boiling brain. He wanted to touch
his face to the window pane to cool it yet he hated their worried reactions.
“You always have backup plans, buddy” Tony pressed the issue now that he had an
ally. “You never leave anything to chance: you’ll do it now?”
Always alone…The realization hurt but it was the truth. They didn’t understand,
nobody…They tried to be protective, they were worried…His mind hurt from
sympathy for their feelings yet he was crushed, an impossible agony flooding
him. They didn’t want to understand because they were normal and he wasn’t…
“Or you can take the special Kryptonite and have it always with you in case
Superman doesn’t want to listen.”
“I can repel him without Kryptonite” his voice was tired, this discussion was
too exhausting.
Tony shook his head yet he thought that Bruce’s lowered voice was a sign that
he was getting his point cross.
“You can’t be sure, buddy. Even in his weakened state…”
Why doesn’t he stop?
“You saw it at Dolcetto: Joker had Kryptonite and though he was weakened by the
effect and the Kryptonite knocked him out when you returned to save him instead
of getting worse he recovered. It’s stupid to deny the only means of defense.”
Bruce turned suddenly to them, jerked his head upright and looked Tony with
cold eyes.
“Enough!” he said in an even voice that was steely.
Tony’s eyes widened and Selina froze from the sudden tension in the air.
“That would be my humble opinion too, lady and gentlemen” Alfred’s poised and
tranquil voice dissolved the tension. “It’s time for you to have a nice cup of
chamomile tea and some delicacies I made for you.”
The kind man placed the silver tray on the low curved table and looked
pointedly to them.
Bruce realized that Alfred tried to save his friendship with Tony and Selina
and give him some relief from the tension; Alfred’s kindness was painful and he
turned again to the sight of the grounds listening to his friends’ steps as
they retreated to the table.
Alfred cast Tony and Selina a stare full of meaning, reminding them that Bruce
wasn’t completely fine yet and pressure was detrimental. He served chamomile to
both of them but Bruce didn’t make a move to leave his spot.
“Master Bruce, how would you like your chamomile?”
Bruce closed his eyes: Alfred wanted to take care of him for the years he was
forbidden to do it; his effort was touching yet Bruce couldn’t indulge the good
man and this made him ache and being more upset.
“Master Bruce? Do you experience any discomfort, sir?” the worry in Alfred’s
voice made him want to cry for causing it.
He shook his head in denial without turning to face Alfred.
“Come and join us, buddy: chamomile isn’t exactly my thing but I love
challenges…”
Alfred made tea because of him…Bruce turned slightly his head towards his
people who were gathered in a place. Apart from him…
“I don’t want chamomile” he said emotionlessly. “And Tony loves espresso and
Selina black coffee.”
“It’s not bad making a difference once in a while…” Selina shrugged.
“Espresso is overestimated; I’d never give my shoes for a cup…” Tony chuckled.
Bruce inhaled deeply and Alfred bit his lip.
“I baked cinnamon biscuits right before coming to the clinic, sir: would you
like to taste them to tell me your opinion?”
Bruce felt asphyxiating: all this love seemed so strange, so unnatural…He
didn’t deserve it.
“I’m sure they are another huge success, Alfred…” he rubbed the bridge of his
nose. “The thing is…that biscuits are for kids…” he said dryly and heard
Selina’s imperceptible huff.
“Exactly” Tony said cheerfully trying to lighten the mood and gulped a biscuit.
“They are perfect, buddy! You’re lucky to have Alfred.”
Bruce left slowly the window, stared at Alfred who tried hard not frown at the
pain and the coldness that his young master’s eyes radiated at the same time.
“I know, Tony” he crossed the lounge to the spacious bar and filled a glass
with whiskey to everyone’s shocked stares.
“Bruce, what are you doing?” Selina asked with dread.
“I need something, Selina” he answered calmly.
And indeed he needed something; something to assuage all these struggling and
tangled emotions: all of them were painful and confusing and…He had things to
do and this turmoil pained his mind.
Tony watched as Bruce brought the glass to his lips: Leslie said no alcohol and
Bruce never liked booze; and he was shocked from Bruce saying that he needed to
drink.
Alfred touched gently but determinedly the glass in Bruce’s hand and took it
before he sipped; he didn’t say anything because Alfred’s warm eyes were his
entire world right now.
“Master Bruce, you suffered a severe concussion and you must not consume
alcohol. If you experience any discomfort Leslie gave me the proper medicine
that won’t deteriorate your condition.”
Bruce rubbed his forehead and brushed the gauze that still covered the injured
side of his head. He wanted to drink.
“What’s the point of gaining your freedom and your fortune back if you can’t do
what you want!” he snapped.
Alfred searched Bruce’s eyes.
“Of course you can do what you want, sir; but alcohol at this point is bad for
you.”
Bruce snorted and shook his head.
“Indeed, little guy; alcohol only makes things worse…” Tony said seriously
knitting his fingers.
Hearing that, Bruce felt again that frantic, hot heartbeat.
“I’m not ‘little’, you know! And I expected that you’d understand!” his voice
was half angry protest and half complain.
Tony immediately got the point: those filthy magazines Joker used to taunt his
friend came to his mind; his useless years when he soaked in booze. He ruffled
his hair and stood.
“Your friend was a fool, Bruce; I was stupid believing that booze would help
me. Don’t do that to yourself…”
“You see, Bru-cey; you were always alone, abandoned by everyone...And even now
with all these sycophants around you that pretend that they love and care, you
know deep inside that you’re still more lonely than before...”
Bruce looked at all of them, at their worried faces and purged his lips: no, he
knew that they cared. Yet that didn’t change the fact that he was alone: them
and he. He felt a so unbelievably bitter loneliness as the first time he was
thrown to his cage at Dolcetto:when he was an injured kid that had just witness
his parents being killed.
He didn’t lower his head or his gaze just turned and walked towards the grand
staircase. Tony ran to him and held carefully Bruce’s forearm.
Bruce looked at him.
“Where are you going?” he asked almost pleadingly.
“I have work to do” he answered indifferently.
Selina came to him too and Bruce rolled his eyes.
“Leslie said no exertion, Bruce, physical or mental; you need rest to recover.”
The feeling of the boiling lava returned more pressing…
“I’m fine and there are things I must do and…” leave me alone already!
He couldn’t shout that to them; they didn’t deserve it. But he needed to be
alone. He slipped Tony’s loose grip and climbed the stair.
Tony clenched his waist and lowered his head; Bruce was suffering and his
presence after the poison Joker watered his friend’s mind was a torture. Maybe
it was better for Bruce not seeing him for a while.
“I can leave the Manor if you want, buddy…” he said calm and affectionately.
“Do you want me to leave?”
Selina looked at him frowned and Alfred pressed his lips. Bruce stopped.
Buuuut now that you need him, he probably found something more interesting: a
jubilant orgy probably...
No, Tony asked him that because he feels guilty and thinks that his presence
here worsens his condition. But that wasn’t true; it wasn’t Tony’s fault. It
wasn’t anyone’s fault…Only his…And he felt alone yet he didn’t want Tony gone
or Selina or Alfred; he knew that they would be better without him yet he
couldn’t just…
“No…” he said loud and continued climbing the stairs without looking back.
Tony closed his eyes and ruffled his hair relieved.
 
“I’m the one who housed you for fourteen years; the one who gifted you the
headquarters of your war. YOUR world is MY REALM! You are MINE! I was given
your soul since your nine years!”
Bruce yanked his head as the strange voice replayed in his head as the lift
descended to the cave; he looked around as the door opened: the humid stones,
the roar of the waterfall, the bats sleeping upside down, the smell…He loved
all these, they were part of him and he wouldn’t let a product of concussion
keep him away. So he erased his momentarily hesitation and walked to the
working bench where the various screens played the footage of different public
cameras.
He called The Daily Planet’s office to ask for Clark Kent but as he expected he
wasn’t there, a woman that must be Lois told him that he was on a sick leave.
She asked him who he was – of course, she would: the clever reporter could
sniff things – and he used his knowledge about Clark to give her a plausible
answer that he was an old friend from Smallville. Which made Lois more
talkative yet she didn’t know where Clark had gone.
Bruce thought to call Ms. Kent but he didn’t want to make her worry about her
son in the case Clark wasn’t there. He sighed and decided to exhaust every
other option before upsetting Ms. Kent.
Maybe Clark would come to him at some point and he had the chance to explain…He
clenched his jaw: he had treated Clark too harshly the last time he came to the
cave; he kicked him out. If he had behaved kinder, if he had told him the truth
maybe things would be different now…
The same violent heartbeat echoed in his rib case and he focused there
dictating the beats to calm down: biofeedback Ra’s had called it.
What he should concentrate on right now was gathering every data he had on
Joker to give them to Jim and Harvey to form the prosecution for every crime
the clown had committed. But it wasn’t so easy to concentrate; his mind seemed
eager to stray in every possible direction so he recruited all his self control
to manage the simple task of copying the data to flash disks.
“I haven’t the chance till now to thank you…”
He put on the T-shirt Alfred brought him yesterday – bless the caring man for
his observation skill because Alfred noticed that he hadn’t the patience to
button up a shirt. He was happy to leave the clinic and he was up way before
the time his ‘escort’ would come to take him to the Manor.
Leslie however was very early there and watched him.
“What?” he asked her puzzled.
She sat on his bed.
“You don’t remember?”
He lolled his head and cast an annoyed glance at her.
“Please, don’t start again evaluating my injury…”
Leslie nodded sympathetically.
“The bottle Joker hit your head with was meant for me; you could have easily
avoided the blow but you knew that then it would kill me. You risked your
health and life for me.”
He rolled his eyes.
“It’s not so dramatic, Leslie: I have the training to prepare myself for blows
so a blow that would have caused you a major injury it caused only a concussion
to me.”
Leslie crossed her arms and twisted her lips.
“And a new traumatic experience…as if the concussion alone is not a serious
issue.”
He walked to her and stared her in the eyes.
“It wasn’t a ‘traumatic experience’…Now I’m strong, Leslie and…used to that
kind of treatment to let it affect me.”
The doctor sighed.
“There’s no doubt that you’re a marvel of braveness and strength yet you can’t
disregard so easily your life and well being.”
Bruce shook his head in denial and opened his mouth to retort but Leslie stood.
“Bruce, what you’ve been through has left its mark on you and I know that you
suffer though you hide it from everyone. So maybe…you should see someone who
can help you find some peace.”
Bruce stiffened; his muscles and his mind vibrating from irritation.
“You believe I’m crazy?!” his eyes widened.
Leslie closed her eyes and shook her head.
“If that’s what you believe I can go live at the caves and never bother you
again! It won’t be a problem for me…” he continued.
Leslie cupped his face and he yanked away from her.
“Calm down, Bruce; of course, you’re not crazy. I just don’t want you to
suffer…” she sighed. “I know you experience horrible nightmares and flashbacks
and you want to be isolated feeling you don’t belong…This is post traumatic
stress disorder, Bruce and you don’t deserve to continue suffer…There are
experts who can help you process what you experienced all these years…”
“I’m fine! I don’t want to go to a therapist and repeat everything: I had
enough of people feeling sorry for me! I’m not gonna do that only because is
what normal people do: I know I’m not normal…” he rubbed his forehead.
Leslie brushed his cheek with pressed lips .
“I would never put pressure on you; I just wanted you to know that there’s
another option” her hand ruffled his locks.
“You have troubles with the wall my friend destroyed?” Bruce asked milder.
Leslie smiled.
“I had worse…and Lucius found a very believable explanation…”
Bruce nodded.
“I took swabs while you were unconscious: it’s faster than I expected but
you’re clean; gonorrhea is gone.”
“Nice” he mumbled not giving a damn.
Leslie suddenly hugged him.
“I just want you to be happy, Bruce; it’s what all of us want…”
“I am, Leslie” he answered giving a dry smile that he knew that didn’t convince
Leslie “I have all of you.”
He heard his mother’s voice cracking from a sob.
“Be happy, Bruce…please, be happy…”
As if it was the easiest thing…as if it was normal to be happy…as if it had any
importance anymore.
The humming of the lift dragged him out of his thoughts. It was Alfred with a
tray which he placed beside him with a smile.
“I gathered you would be hungry and brought you a toast and since chamomile
isn’t your thing a fresh orange juice. Better this time?”
Bruce blushed remembering his outburst. He nodded and grabbed the toast; he
hadn’t eaten breakfast at the clinic and certainly Leslie had told Alfred.
“And then you should have some rest after that gauze is changed” Alfred said
calm but determined and Bruce gulped hastily.
“I have things to do, Alfred!” he protested. “And it’s hardly three hours since
I woke!”
“Pardon me, sir, but I’m fully aware that you woke at six o’clock in the
morning” a grin formed on his wrinkled face at Bruce’s sigh “anxious to leave
the clinic and now is half past eleven. Furthermore, your personal doctor said
no exertion” he raised his eyebrows in the same way he did when wanted to pass
an order during Bruce’s childhood.
“Half past eleven?!” he had done very few things. “There’s no exertion, Alfred:
I’m just copying data to give to Jim Gordon and Harvey Dent.”
Alfred nodded.
“Then I’m sure that powerful machine you have down here is perfectly able to do
that without your supervision.”
Bruce looked at the screen like a kid who was ordered to let go of his favorite
toy. Alfred blinked and touched his young master’s hand.
“Can we make a program, sir?” Bruce locked eyes with the kind man. “You can do
your work but with short breaks for nap in between. That way you’ll do your job
better having refreshing rests in between and you’ll spare an old man from his
irrational fear.”
“You’re not an old man, Alfred” he replied smiling and the butler raised his
eyebrows thrilled.
“Well, I’m obliged, sir!” he said and passed him the glass of juice.
As soon as Bruce gulped the juice Alfred gestured to the lift.
“Shall we, sir?”
The truth was that Bruce felt tired without doing anything tiresome enough but
still scratched his head looking at his computer.
“I have to decipher the League’s files…”
“Such a difficult work demands a well-rested mind, Master Bruce” with relief he
saw his young master nodding; Alfred knew that Bruce was tired. “I’ll wake you
up in an hour myself, sir?”
Bruce turned his eyes on him and pressed his lips.
“You promise?” he asked and his playful smile was a balm to Alfred’s clenched
heart.
“Cross my heart and hope to die!” he winked.
Bruce walked with him to the lift.
“This swear is American and you’re a British” he teased his loyal friend.
“Hmm... I’m not too sure this is totally American, sir… Anyway, we live in
United States of America and I follow the rule ‘when you are in Rome do as
Romans do’…”
“As if…” Bruce snorted and Alfred raised his eyes in mock despair.
“Oh! You were always a teaser, Master Bruce…”
The lift began its ascending.
“Alfred, is there any…” he bit his lip “cinnamon biscuits left?”
Alfred smirked collusively.
“The kids up there ate loads of them before they left but I managed to save
some…” he leaned to his master’s ear.
Bruce licked his lip uncomfortably feeling a painful pang.
“Are they angry with me?” he asked locking eyes with Alfred. “Especially Tony?”
“No, Master Bruce; nobody is angry. You did nothing wrong and they know how
much you love them.”
Bruce pressed his lips; he loved them but sometimes he felt that they must
leave him…for their own good because he was a difficult case; a hopeless case…
Suddenly the fatigue he was feeling till now became exhaustion and he was happy
that they had reached the master bedroom.
 
***** Chapter 49 *****
“Tony, I must know!”
The teenage boy was leaning on the wall at the corridor near Dr. Thompkins’
office and looked his younger friend shaking his head.
“Ask your dad then!” he answered exasperated.
“He won’t tell me or he’ll try to adorn things because he considers me too
young!”
Tony cocked his eyebrows regarding pointedly his friend’s small body.
“I wonder why…” he chuckled and the younger boy kicked him in the shin. “Ouch!
You…”
Bruce placed his finger on his lips to hush his friend.
“I have to know what she has, Tony! The truth…” the boy’s eyes became those of
a begging puppy and Tony rolled his eyes huffing.
“And you want us to sneak into Leslie’s office and peek on her files” he
sighed. “And they call me a trouble maker!”
The boy clenched his jaw determined and pouted; crossing his arms was the
completion of the image.
“If you chicken out I’ll go on my own!” he put his foot on the floor and Tony
wanted to punish him for his nerve: tickle him till he shed tears from
laughter.
But now he was looking him challenging and Tony detached from the wall and
shook his index finger.
“Listen, buddy” he said smugly. “Tony Stark never chickens out! And does your
mommy know that you use slang?”
“Ssssss!” he said hastily as someone approached and smiled innocently to the
nurse who ruffled his locks passing them. “Now: are you in or out?” he asked in
a business matter.
Tony snorted.
“Too much TV, little guy!”
Bruce turned his back and made to move towards the office yet Tony grabbed his
upper arm.
“OK, OK! But I’ll be the one to be scolded as always…”
“They won’t catch us” Bruce retorted certain leading the way to Leslie’s
office.
“They always know even when they don’t catch us and who’s the responsible
always? Tony! Because sweet, littl’ Brucie is too innocent to do mischief…” the
teenager kept mumbling on the way and even as Bruce put a key in the lock.
“Which is true for most cases…” he replied.
“Where did you find this?” Tony asked shocked.
“I…borrowed it from Leslie’s robe that was hanging at the nurses’ station…”
“Al Capone is an angel compared to you…”
But Bruce ran to Leslie’s file cabinet which was crowded with patients’ files.
“This is wroooong, buddy…” Tony watched as his friend stretched his short
posture to reach the highest shelves.
“Hmpf…” the boy huffed and puffed, jumping. “I could use some help…”
Tony marched there, lolling his head at the side.
“And all these for your girlfriend!”
He turned to him blushed.
“She isn’t!” he protested.
“Then it’s even worse… Back off, shortie! What’s your girlfriend’s name?”
“She is not! And her name is…”
But then the door opened and Leslie tired from her visits to the patients
loomed at the threshold; her eyes bulged in disbelief for what she was seeing.
“Anthony Stark!” she shouted and Tony half attached to the shelf turned
startled like the cat that spilt the milk.
“I want my attorney…” Tony answered and Bruce grabbed his elbow and dragged him
to run away.
But Tony took with him the furniture crushing it down, the two kids barely
avoiding being crushed but still falling down since Tony lost his balance
taking Bruce with him. More than hundred files fell upon both of them.
Leslie crossed her arms and smirked, watching stoic the disaster. When the
ordeal was over and the boys were covered in files and dust, she walked to them
and grabbed them from the ears.
“Are you alright, little burglars?”
“He is little, I’m old enough” Tony said smugly.
“You don’t help your case, Anthony Stark…”
“It was my idea, Bruce is innocent” he hastened to take the blame but Bruce
rolled his eyes.
“Now who’s copying TV?”
“Up, you criminals” Leslie said firmly yet couldn’t hide her playful tone.
“I’ll take you to the right man…”
“A judge?” Bruce asked hopping to his feet, Leslie still holding his ear as
Tony’s.
“Worse: your father…”
Bruce pouted and looked Leslie with his sweetest despair but the doctor was
adamant.
Thomas Wayne entered his small office at the clinic having his lips pressed and
looked the two boys who sat on the examination table. He blinked, his eyes
filled with disapproval.
Bruce jumped from the table and ran to his father.
“I did it, daddy; Tony did nothing…” he was desperate to save his friend and
his father’s effort to not smile was evident.
“Is it true, Tony?” Thomas asked mildly the teenager.
Tony had his arms crossed and stared at the tiled floor purging his lips: he
liked mischief but not being caught.
“Nah…” he looked at the adult. “The shortie tries to save me but, c’me on:
everyone knows that he is too boring to do felonies.”
Thomas chuckled at the ‘felonies’ and shook his head understanding: they would
keep taking the blame to save one another and he liked that yet searching the
confidential files of patients was very bad and illegal not to mention stealing
one’s key. He crouched in front of Bruce who stared at him flushed but not
regretful for what was done and that was what persuaded Thomas that his son was
saying the truth.
“So…” he said firm but caring. “You wanted to read a patient’s file and of
course Tony couldn’t hold you up and instead followed you.”
Bruce nodded.
“You won’t tell his father, huh, dad?” he pleaded.
“You should have thought that before…” now how was he to say that a seven year
old talked a thirteen year old into mischief? “forcing Tony to help you in your
bad deeds.”
Bruce’s head dropped.
“Tony’s father won’t let him come again…”
Tony snorted.
“I don’t need ol’ Howard’s approval! I’m a big guy!”
Thomas lolled his head to him berating with his gaze.
“And it wasn’t a bad deed!” Bruce’s eyes were almost tearful from the
unfairness of all these; he didn’t mean any harm. He locked eyes with his
father.
“You know it’s a very bad thing breaking and entering into other people’s
personal space. And stealing Leslie’s key?! Bruce, that was…”
“He didn’t steal it just borrowed it…” Tony tried to sound smug.
“Tony…” Thomas’ stare was mild but stern and Tony twitched his mouth. “Bruce,
you know it’s forbidden to read the patients’ files” the boy’s shoulders sank
“and imagine how much Leslie must work to tide up her office.”
Bruce lowered again his head and gulped guilty yet he yanked his head.
“I’m sorry… I’m a bad boy but…I wanted to know about her!”
Thomas nodded sighing.
“You’re not a bad boy, Bruce…Alright… I understand you wanted to know but why
you didn’t ask me, young man?”
“Because you wouldn’t have told me because I’m too young” he answered
desperate. “Or you would have told me things to calm me just to stop asking…”
Thomas cupped his son’s jaw and looked him in the eyes. He held his upper arms
and lifted him to sit him on the examination table.
“So you want the truth about your lady friend…”
Tony rolled his eyes but Bruce nodded. Thomas pressed his lips.
“Your lady friend has a brain tumor” Bruce’s eyes bulged in terror. “But we can
operate it and then she’ll do some radiation.”
Bruce wanted to ask but his voice was lost somewhere so Tony took over though
he didn’t like much Bruce’s ‘lady friend’.
“Will she be OK?”
Thomas smiled to Tony; he was really happy Bruce had such a good friend. He
looked at his son.
“It’ll be hard for her but…I believe that her chances are pretty good…”
Bruce’s heart lost some beats but in the end jolted happily; he smiled and his
father reflected his smile. If his father said that her chances were good she
would make it; his father was the best doctor in the world along with Leslie
and they would make his friend fine.
“Now, you two will apologize to Leslie and do whatever she asks you.”
“I knew I’d be the one to pay in the end…” Tony grouched.
Yet Bruce kissed his father in the cheek and jumped from the table eager to
take his punishment. His lady friend was ill but she’ll make it. His lady
friend…How was her name?
They were at the intensive care unit the monotonous beeping of the ECG scaring
Bruce’s upset heart. Thomas looked at his seven year old son and smiled
encouragingly. He wrapped the boy’s shoulders with his other hand and led him
to the bed.
“Don’t cry, Bruce; she will be alright. The surgery was successful and she’ll
be fine…”
His father didn’t understand that he was crying not only from fear for his
friend but also for every patient in the hospital who suffered or was to die.
Yet he didn’t want to sadden his father so smiled and wiped his tears.
“Her heart sounds different than when you let me hear my heart with your
stethoscope…” he whispered anxiously and Thomas ruffled his boy’s locks.
“This sound is artificial, not the real sound; calm down, Bruce, your lady
friend will live. But you can’t save everyone…”
Bruce’s eyes focused on her round shape face with the rich cheeks; her shining
brown eyes were closed and she was sleeping peacefully.
He was standing on the cemetery after the Phelps’ funeral watching from afar
when a young woman in black suit approached.
 “It’s hard when something like this happens at a time you start believing in
the goodness of the world…”
Bruce saw something in her eyes that hadn’t seen there again.
“You lost your family?” he inquired almost whispering.
She snorted and waved her hand dismissingly.
“Not exactly… But it was very important to me; it was meaning for me.”
“No…They’ll forget me, I know…and I’ll be alone!” a girl of seven years was
crying.
“Sssss…You won’t be alone; I’ll always be with you…”
She raised her round shaped face with the drained from cancer cheeks; her eyes
had hope and he smiled to her.
“We’re friends, remember?”
But she closed her eyes and shook her head desperate.
“You’ll leave me too…”
Bruce furrowed his little brow; he’d never do that to his friend!
“I won’t!” he protested and ran to the basket with his favorite toys. He took a
stuffed animal, his most loved; he gave it an affectionate glance and nodded
pressing his rosy lips dogged.
He stormed back to his lady friend and slumped on the fluffy carpet of his room
beside her; she looked him puzzled and he offered her the stuffed animal
smiling.
“Take it! As long as you have that I’ll be with you no matter what…Cross my
heart!”
The little girl whose face now seemed so familiar smiled, wiped her nose with
the back of her palm and hugged the animal.
He was at the GCPD’s annual ball sat in the same table as Lucius, Mr.
Fredericks and Harvey and then…
It was a young woman at Harvey’s age not more than 5’5’’ with juicy curves
highlighted by her loose fitted, long sleeved light blue muslin dress and sweet
round face. Her shining eyes were brown, a little lighter than her brown-red
jaw-length hair and she had a very pleasant smile brushing her face.
“Rachel Dawes.”
 “Miss Dawes, will you join us?” he asked.
The young woman turned to him still smiling with the same sweet way and her
beautiful eyes widened.
“Oh! Mr. Wayne, how nice you’re here tonight! I always wanted to meet you…”
And then he was lying on a bed at Falcone’s semi-dark office with Joker
unconscious on the floor. He pulled up his pants that Joker had lowered.
Rachel – the woman with the eye mask and the deep red haired wing that hit
Joker to save him - cast him a sympathetic glance and took Joker’s jacket from
the floor. She returned to him the moment he tried to cover his naked torso
with his torn shirt; he raised his eyes shyly to her and she smiled really
soothingly and her eyes shone in a way that was strangely familiar to Bruce.
“It’s alright, Bruce; don’t be shy of me…”
Bruce’s eyes jerked opened and the gasp coming out of his mouth formed a word.
“Rachel!”
He sat on the mattress rubbing his eyes. Alfred had closed the heavy drape so
he could sleep uninterrupted by the midday light. How many hours he was
sleeping? He looked at his wristwatch laid carefully on the nightstand; he was
so lucky that Tony had found his father’s wristwatch that Joker had thrown
carelessly on the street.
The hour they had agreed with Alfred for nap hadn’t yet passed.
He stared at the watch seeing the face of the girl in his dream on the sapphire
crystal cadran. He closed his eyes trying to absorb the new realization: all
this time, he had the suspicion that Joker’s accomplice was Jack Napier’s, the
fake Jack Napier’s legal representative Rachel Dawes. That night that she hit
Joker to save him he confirmed it. But now that his mind presented him with all
the clues at the same time he figured out why this young woman seemed so
familiar: she was HIS Rachel, his ‘lady friend’ as his father affectionately
teased and Tony mocked him. How could he forget? However he had to make sure,
to find proofs…
The door opened and Alfred seeing him sitting hurried to him.
“Are you alright, sir? I was coming to wake you up…” he examined discreetly his
ears.
“There’s no liquid in my ears, Alfred. I’m fine, don’t worry. It was just…”
“What, Master Bruce?”
He didn’t answer just stood.
“Mmm… I must go somewhere” he knew her address from the Desk Appearance Ticket
the DA’s office had sent to her.
He opened his walk-in closet and felt overwhelmed: everything looked too much
for him, too expensive, too nice, too clean…
Alfred walked calmly to him and took a hanger.
“If I may, sir; for a midday unofficial outing I think that this outfit would
be appropriate. Especially, if I’m right in my assumption and you want your
presence in the city to remain discreet.”
It was faded-colored jeans, a brand new deep blue T-shirt and a jean jacket.
Bruce nodded and began changing clothes.
“Do you want me to drive you anywhere, sir?” Alfred asked nonchalant yet Bruce
could detect his worry.
Indeed, Alfred didn’t want the youth driving only 48 hours after a concussion
and a dangerous cocktail of drugs; a car accident was the last they wanted
right now. But he also felt Bruce’s need for space so he tried to be discreet.
“Don’t fret, Alfred” Bruce looked at him smiling with deeper knowledge. “I’ll
take Tony’s car; there I’ll be as safe as in the Manor.” He put on his
wristwatch and Alfred gave him his smartphone.
The butler wasn’t totally soothed: he could feel sure only if he was constantly
there. Still he gave the young man a broad grin not wanting to asphyxiate him.
He saw with relief Bruce’s eyes shining satisfied so unlike when they returned
from the clinic.
“See you later, Alfred” he greeted him and left the room.
Alfred sighed because his young master didn’t cast a glance to his reflection
in the mirror as if he was afraid or disgusted by the sight. He opened the
drape and watched the tiled path where the black wonder of a car carried Bruce
away from the grounds.
 
Tony aboard the Avengers’ jet watched along with the rest of the team the
assorted feeding from several satellites that had caught Superman during the
rescue of the people in Shanghai.
“Damn!” he shouted when the feeding ended without leaving them any insight
about Superman’s destination.
He left the screens where the team was gathered and sank in the grand armchair.
He gritted his teeth: he needed a fucking scotch! Yet he remembered Bruce with
the glass of whiskey and then his words:
“I expected that you’d understand!”
He couldn’t seek refuge in booze when he lectured Bruce not do it. Tony pinched
the bridge of his nose: he wasn’t the best example for the little guy in his
sensitive condition. He sighed; but at least was trying and Bruce wanted him
near despite the poison that clown gave him: the poison of his very true
behavior.
He sensed his teammates’ curious stares and huffed.
“A bunch of fucking superheroes, high tech satellites, two genius scientists, a
super spy-assassin and we still can’t locate that alien…”
“He can evade us because he must have a secret place where he hides” Dr.
Spanner said. “A super secret place probably protected with alien technology.
Plus we don’t know if he has an alias and which that is.”
Well, Tony knew but it didn’t make things better because Clark Kent was also
MIA. Yet he didn’t want to share the alien’s secret identity because that would
upset Bruce.
Steve crossed his arms leaning on the screen bench.
“Sooner or later we’ll find him, Tony.”
Tony chewed his lower lip: he didn’t like the ‘later’ option. He lifted his
eyes to regard Natasha’s enticing form approaching him; however although her
body was always a delight to watch her squint made him frown because he knew
that she was sniffing the air.
“Why such urgency, Stark?” she frowned. “You asked us to find Superman ASAP yet
you didn’t explain the reason; why is it so important to find him? He didn’t
show any signs of having gone rogue or you know something more?” Tony’s carbon
eyes looked at her challengingly to hide his uneasiness. “And” she continued
slyly smirking because she wasn’t fooled by his tricks “that hastiness came up
after your friend’s rescue…”
Tony saw the others frowning as Natasha was ready to hit the punch.
“Is Superman a threat to Bruce Wayne?”
Tony shook his head wishing he had Bruce’s acting skills.
“Is he, Tony?” Captain America asked concerned and Tony cocked an eyebrow
remembering that their supposed leader admired Bruce and frankly sometimes
Bruce’s unwilling charm to other people became an obstacle even when didn’t
attract criminals.
Natasha had that very annoyed I-got-you look and Dr. Banner stared at him
demandingly. Tony suddenly appreciated Bruce’s displeasure for the Avengers’
involvement. He yanked his head and stood.
“Sassy, dear, you should stop watching too much western TV: the stimuli are
overwhelming your twisted mind!”
Natasha snorted and smirked.
One of the screens beeped and Fury’s solemn eye regarded them making Tony slap
his eye frustrated.
“Which part of ‘I don’t want any contact with Fury’ you didn’t understand?” he
tipped a finger to Rogers’ chest. “That’s the value of your soldier’s word?!”
“They didn’t invite me, Stark and I don’t mean to get involved” he said calmly
to Tony who crossed his arms annoyed. “In fact, I don’t have any idea what are
you up to…”
“A classmates’ pick-nick” Tony snapped.
Fury nodded.
“You can’t misdirect Avengers, Stark; Avengers were created to protect this
planet.”
Tony laughed.
“And I suppose you and those ghost directors of S.H.I.E.L.D. would decide when
the Avengers should act…” he furrowed his brows.
“The Avengers are enlisted by S.H.I.E.L.D.”
“So, that makes us your little robots?”
Fury closed his eye and shook his head.
“I didn’t say that but you can’t preoccupy the whole team and S.H.I.E.L.D.’s
premises…”
Now Tony snapped.
“What?! S.H.I.E.L.D.’s premises? Oh, boy! You’re funnier than that Joker guy!
This jet and its priceless equipment is my creation manufactured by me and
funded with my money. As for us, we formed that team not because of you or your
stupid organization but because we wanted to make a difference!”
Natasha elbowed Steve.
“Stark is really on a roll…” she chuckled.
Fury nodded.
“Let’s calm down, Tony” Fury said causing Ironman’s snort and Natasha’s smirk
to Steve. “I trust you, OK? I won’t ask what you’re doing; I only called to
learn about your friend, Bruce Wayne.”
Tony lolled his head to the side.
“How is he?” Fury inquired unfazed.
“There’s an official press release about that so leave Bruce alone…” Tony
snapped with a low yet determined voice.
Fury sighed.
“Come on, Tony; a mistake was done but I do care for the young man and I want
his wellbeing.”
“Nice; then stop caring! End of call!” he ordered the screen and Fury’s face
was gone. “This guy is unbelievable!” he exclaimed to his teammates.
Steve came to him.
“You’re too nervous, Tony; unusually nervous. Is anything wrong with Bruce?”
Tony ruffled his hair.
“He’s alright; can we just focus on our subject here?”
Natasha moved to him lolling her head to the side.
“Why don’t you ask Batman’s contribution too? If it’s such an urgent matter
he’ll help.”
Tony crossed his arms.
“He isn’t someone you can find on demand, is he? And I didn’t believe that I’d
be interrogated by my teammates for asking their assistance…”
Natasha cocked a sarcastic eyebrow.
“Batman would have asked more…for example, why you’re so anxious to locate
Superman and why is he hiding? Unless the Bat already knows…” her voice was so
sly that Tony was furious.
Dr. Banner coughed.
“I think you should tell us what’s going on so that we can be prepared for
every possibility.”
“Joker had a new special kind of Kryptonite and Superman was exposed and left
before he was properly healed!” he snapped exasperated.
“Why you didn’t tell him?” Dr. Banner inquired. “He’d certainly want to be
cured from the effect.”
Tony closed his eyes and yanked his head; he shouldn’t have brought them into
this…
“Unless there’s something in this effect that makes him unwilling to heal or he
doesn’t believe that needs healing” Dr. Banner watched Tony with narrowed eyes.
Tony had had enough.
“Forget it, guys! If you don’t want don’t do: I’ll do it alone!” he turned to
leave but Steve grabbed his upper arm.
“This effect endangers Bruce, right? That’s the reason you are so anxious to
find Superman.”
Tony yanked his hand getting free.
“I said: forget it! Now, I got other works to do! See ya…”
Yet Steve’s eyes were locked with his and Natasha’s stare was as much intense.
“We can protect Bruce if that’s what troubles you” the soldier stated calm.
Tony yanked his head upwards rolling his eyes: things were getting out of hand
here! Avengers protecting Batman…he would have laughed if it wasn’t actually a
serious matter. And he didn’t want to imagine Bruce’s reaction in his agitated
state hearing that…Next time remember to listen to Bruce; he made a mentally
note.
“Bruce has the greatest protection there is: he has me, Batman, my tricks” and
Selina he thought. “Stay away from Gotham.” He shook his index finger and
turned his back hastily heading for the exit.
“That’s Batman’s citation, right?” the Black Widow said in her smartass mode.
“We saw on TV how he treated you seeing an outsider in ‘his’ city…”
Tony turned.
“And today I see how right he is!”
“Tony, we just want the best for the planet and your friend” Steve intervened.
“Then just do what I asked from you and stop pestering me!” he activated his
armor and saw Captain America nodding albeit morose.
“It must be something in Gotham’s water…” Natasha said after Tony took off.
“What’s your opinion on the matter, Dr. Banner? Or maybe the air or ‘the Batman
Syndrome’…”
“I heard that!” Tony twirled midair and returned to the jet floating above
them. “Next time I throw a party for the Avengers, you’re out, Cruella…” he
sniggered and left.
 
Rachel was settling in the cupboards the groceries she just bought. It was
almost noon yet she wasn’t one to cook so she just filled a flute with red wine
and sank to the sofa turning on with the remote her stereo sound system.
She shook her head to the pace of the music and sipped from her glass, her eyes
finding the old stuffed Eeyore in the other corner of the sofa.
She put the glass on the low table and took the toy in her hands. A smile
flickered over her face: the last two days she felt quite fond of the old toy:
his morose, depressed expression, so sweet, his lowered head and ears, his
ripped tail attached with a tack.
His sad sweet eyes reminded her of Bruce’s eyes in Dolcetto. After she knocked
out Joker because before she couldn’t focus in anything else beside the fact
that her crazy boss had straddled Bruce who was tied up on the bed and tore his
shirt; she had warned Jackie to not harm him and seeing him ready to rape a
being already broken made her furious.
He had looked her puzzled and scared, especially when her knife lowered to cut
his restraints; and he was exactly as she remembered him before he ‘died’:
beautiful, vulnerable, puzzled about the cruelty of the world, shy, sweet,
eager to help anyone whoever he/she was.
“You saved me: you don’t have to avoid police...”
 “Thank you for everything!”
She shook her head disapproving: poor Bruce! Still craving to see the good in
everyone even after all the damage people did to him…
He sighed and the doorbell startled her. She touched her heart smiling and let
the stuffed animal on the sofa. Probably Harvey to take her for lunch.
Yet on opening the door she gasped; Bruce was standing there serious but smiled
upon seeing her.
“Bruce!” she narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t expect you…”
“If the moment isn’t right I can come some other time…”
Rachel’s mind raced; she didn’t like this, she didn’t like this at all. Bruce
wasn’t stupid after all – far from it.
“Not at all, come in!”
Bruce looked around.
“Please have a seat” Bruce settled on the armchair she showed. “I was drinking
some wine but…from what I heard alcohol isn’t recommended for those recovering
from concussion” she smiled to him and Bruce reflected it feeling exactly as
when they were kids. “Mmm…” Rachel felt a bit uneasy “some juice maybe?”
“A glass of water would suffice, thank you.”
“How do you know my new address?” she asked from the kitchen.
Of course Bruce thought.
“You had left your new address at the hotel…”
Rachel placed the glass on the table and grinned.
“The hotel…Of course!”
Bruce sipped the water under Rachel’s puzzled stare.
“And to what I owe the pleasure of your visit?” her voice tried so much to not
sound sarcastic but still it was evident. “I mean, you should be recuperating
at the Manor…”
Bruce locked eyes with her and Rachel knew immediately that it wasn’t good.
“I know that in such occurrences people bring flowers yet you gave me the
impression of someone who doesn’t like flowers.”
Rachel blushed and frowned inwards for Bruce’s insight.
“Flowers?” she asked laughing and evading answer. “Why? I don’t understand…”
Bruce’s eyes now were sharp.
“To thank you for saving me from Joker.”
It was as if a thunder had hit her; Bruce recognized her…That was impossible;
she was disguised and…How could Bruce’s mind go to her. She had to laugh the
thought out of Bruce.
“Bruce…” she shook her head and laughed. “I think your head was badly hit and
you are not thinking clearly; Batman saved you.”
“It’s what I told the police so that you won’t be in danger when your boss
learns…”
Rachel now squinted annoyed.
“My boss?” she stressed every syllable.
“Joker. You were there dressed up, you knew how he trapped the building and you
admitted it…” he closed his eyes. “I recognized you, Rachel.”
The young woman smirked.
“You recognized me…With a bleeding head and drugs fucking your brain: it’s easy
to overthrow your testimony: no judge will accept it.”
Bruce shrugged.
“How do you know that Joker gave me drugs?” he inquired frowning and Rachel
paled. “Police didn’t state that; only if you saw Joker doing it you could
know.”
She opened her mouth to retort but she knew she was busted; however she cocked
a challenging eyebrow.
“What do you want, Mr. Wayne?”
“You can testify against Joker…”
She shook her head.
“There’s no need for that: there is enough evidence to convict him.”
“Yes, but you can help reveal every crime he committed before he came to
Gotham.”
She cackled.
“Really?”
Bruce pressed his lips.
“You worked for Jack Napier and you’re Joker’s accomplice so either you
betrayed Napier for Joker to kill him or Joker and Napier was the same person”
he didn’t want to reveal that he knew about Joker switching places with Napier.
Rachel’s eyes were narrowed.
“You’re not a detective, Bruce…”
“Of course not I just use my common sense. However police will make a lot of
digging and Batman has an interest on the case and he has his way to find
things…”
Rachel leaned on the sofa’s back and crossed her arms looking Bruce straight in
the eye.
“You can inform the police about me.”
Bruce closed his eyes and lolled his head to the side.
“I don’t want to do it because I know you’re a good person” Rachel laughed
dryly. “You attended the Phelps’ funeral and you’re distraught because you
didn’t want them to be killed” on that the young woman sobered. “And you saved
me risking your life if Joker learns… You deserve a second chance, Rachel, so
if you admit it yourself and help police with Joker they’ll be lenient.”
Rachel inhaled impatient and downed a big gulp of wine.
“The fact I was sorry for the Phelps’ murders and I…saved you doesn’t make me a
good person.” She shook her head rolling her eyes; Bruce remained the naïve,
good-hearted boy.
“I know you are!” Bruce was desperate.
Rachel yanked her hands.
“You’re stupid and naïve! What had happened to you should have taught you
better than giving so much credit to strangers!” her eyes flashed angrily
almost with hatred because Bruce’s faith was touching something deep inside
her.
Bruce sensed her inner struggle and remained calm before her outburst.
“You’re not a stranger…” he stood and approached the couch.
Now Rachel frowned and felt a jolt in her rib case: no, he couldn’t… She
smirked.
“A new story?” she asked sarcastically.
Bruce sat beside her and searched her jeering eyes.
“You’re that Rachel…My childhood friend Rachel from the Narrows: I’m sorry I
didn’t remember you from the first time I saw you.”
Her eyes widened and her heartbeat went crazy; it was a nightmare: Bruce saying
that thing. She smiled keeping her cool.
“Is that why you didn’t turn me in? Because you have the illusion I’m some old
friend of yours who may be imaginary?” she tittered. “I’m from Boston, Mr.
Wayne; not from Gotham and especially the Narrows. You’re wrong; as you’re
wrong if you believe I’m a nice person. So you can inform the police without
any guilt.”
Bruce under Rachel’s panicked stare took the stuffed Eeyore that she had
forgotten there; he had seen it from the moment he stepped in Rachel’s lounge.
He caressed the toy and showed it to her.
“I gave you that when you told me that your parents were going to split; in my
room at the Manor. It was my favorite character from the movies…”
Rachel shook her head exasperated having decided to talk Bruce out of this.
“As of thousands other kids…And there are thousands such toys in the market.”
Bruce looked her in the eyes and lifted the left ear of the cute donkey.
“I’m sure yet only one Eeyore has my initials embroidered with white thread…”
Rachel saw the ‘BW’ and allowed the paleness she was fighting till now to show
on her face; her breath was uneven and Bruce gave her the wine to take a sip.
“Thanks” she rasped.
“I didn’t want to upset you” Bruce said. “But although you obviously preferred
not be recognized, I’m happy I found you again…”
“Sure…” she mocked him lifting an eyebrow. “Your childhood friend being the
accomplice of a killer; of the man who hurt you: you must be thrilled.”
“You saved me from that man…”
“But I didn’t stop him from killing other people!” she shouted. “I just
watched…” she lowered her voice. “Fascinated by the pain he inflicted in other
people, innocent people.”
Bruce bit his lower lip.
“You killed people?”
Rachel closed her eyes: it was irritating that Bruce tried even now to find
mitigating facts.
“No! But watching without stopping it because you enjoy the spectacle is any
better?” Bruce didn’t answer and Rachel sighed. “This is why I didn’t want you
to remember your childhood friend and realize that I am her: that Rachel died
when Falcone killed your parents and you!”
Bruce shook his head in denial; his head throbbed a bit.
“If my Rachel had ceased to exist you wouldn’t be talking like this…People
sometimes lose their path but that doesn’t mean that they lose themselves even
if they try to…”
He touched hesitantly her hand and she didn’t take it away; even the cynical
Rachel felt as if she was back at the Manor, at the years of innocence.
“When you died” she said in a voice so unlike the adult Rachel “I felt
devastated; my mom took me to the funeral and I was crying for days…My best
friend, the one I could confide and find comfort was killed: the world, the
people were evil since they could kill someone like you. I stopped believing in
people, hoping; just when you made me start believing…My heart became stony and
I was angry: with those who killed you, with my father who left us, with my
mother who took me away from Gotham and I couldn’t even visit your grave, with
you for not keeping your promise…”
Bruce nodded, pressing his lips and patted her hand.
“But most of all I was angry with myself; I believed that somehow I was a curse
and everyone leaves me…” she brought her shining brown eyes on his “apart from
you that loved me and for that you were condemned to die…”
“No…” Bruce whispered.
Rachel smiled and took Eeyore from Bruce’s hands.
“I was hugging Eeyore to hear your voice again and feel some relief…Mom was
saying that I’d forget…and believe me I did: I buried Eeyore in a drawer and
you in a grave inside me and I stopped remembering; yet my hatred for the world
and people and myself never ceased. I studied in Harvard’s Law School with the
fund your parents had created on my name; but I was more interested in causing
pain and humiliation to myself – it gave me relief and satisfaction.”
She hesitated for a second but then her cynicism urged her to go on.
“Mother learnt somehow; we had a bad fight and I left to live on my own” she
laughed bitterly “Eeyore was the only thing I took with me. She couldn’t gulp
the fact that her daughter made extreme BDSM shows in a filthy sink of Boston”
her eyes locked with Bruce’s. “Do you know what BDSM is?” she asked him softly.
Bruce laughed.
“What Falcone was doing with me…” he winked.“I have some experience in the
field…”
She snorted but simultaneously smiled.
“You’re unbelievable, you know?” her hand approached hesitantly and finally
cupped his jaw. “Unlike you, I did it with my free will.”
Bruce pressed his lips.
“Funny…What you’ve told me doesn’t sound as free will…”
Rachel sighed.
“Oh, Bruce! Always struggling to find excuses for other people…” she lowered
her eyes. “Still the Angel of Narrows…”
She saw Bruce’s eyes darkening under his frown.
“I was never an angel and I’m not now” immediately he softened his gaze.
“Alfred will be very happy to see you again.”
Rachel shook her head.
“Good ol’ Alfred! You told him?”
“No because first I wanted to speak with you.”
She nodded.
“I met Joker at Nero, the club I performed” she continued feeling for the first
time the urge to speak. “At first he didn’t tell his name but I followed him
since he had saved me from a guy named Todd and then I watched as he tortured
and gruesomely killed him – I felt fascinated, Bruce…” she admitted trying one
last time to make him appalled.
Yet Bruce was still looking her with sympathy.
“I was stone inside; I didn’t want to torture or kill but I didn’t care either”
she twitched her lips. “I enjoyed seeing people crying in pain as much as had
enjoyed pain inflicted in me.”
“Who was Joker?”
“The first time he told me he was Jack Napier but then a few days before he
left Boston he took me in a recluse little house and showed me a chained,
gagged man; he told me to take care of him along with another guy who certainly
had mental disorders and when I’d take my degree to come and find him in LA
bringing his captive.” She licked her lips. “The day Jackie was to take the
flight to LA he spoke to his captive and I eavesdropped; he taunted him for
taking his place to make his name famous; Jack Napier.”
Bruce nodded.
“But I didn’t speak to the police and I became the poor man’s senior guard,
supervising Jackie’s loony friend. And when I had my degree I made as Jackie
told me to: I arrived in LA with a fancy car Jackie gave me the money to buy
with his friend, Charlie and the real Napier locked in the trunk. Jackie hired
me as his legal representative and I was dazzled by the money; also
he…continued to entertain me…He” Rachel inhaled “butchered homeless people and
skinned them to make patches for covering his scars.”
Bruce closed his eyes.
“And the real Napier?”
“He kept him chained and locked in the basement of his villa; he had him
drugged as in Boston. And then he met you at Stark’s party and decided to claim
Gotham and…you because he was fed up with the superstar’s game. So he decided
to kill off poor Napier.”
She finished her story and looked at Bruce.
“You can testify all these to have better handling and give peace to Joker’s
unknown victims.”
Rachel shook her head and laughed.
“Falcone’s conviction gave any peace to your parents or even you?” her eyes
were sharp.
Bruce hesitated; he definitely wasn’t in peace and his parents didn’t come
back.
“At least their murderer was brought to justice and punished; it’s better than
being killed and the murderer staying unpunished for what he did. Everyone’s
life is priceless and the one who takes it for money or…fan must answer for
that; nobody deserves to be forgotten…And all these people might have some
family who still looks for them.”
“I don’t know, Bruce…I don’t know if I can do that.”
“You’ll have protection. Harvey…”
Rachel’s eyes flashed.
“Harvey must not find out.”
“But he cares for you; he would want the best for you.”
“I approached him because Joker asked me to!” she shouted. “All this time I was
playing with him.”
“You don’t care about him?”
She yanked her head.
“The thing is that he’ll hate me and he’ll be right to but I don’t want him to
find out.”
Bruce rubbed his throbbing forehead.
“Harvey is a good man; he’ll understand.”
She chuckled.
“As he understood his father? Please, Bruce…He renounced his father because he
was Falcone’s thug and changed his name. Even now he won’t admit that he has
any kinship with him and wasn’t for you Petrou would be in jail…So don’t tell
me he’ll understand!”
Bruce pinned her with his eyes.
“You wouldn’t care so much about his opinion if you didn’t have feelings for
him…” Rachel huffed. “Rachel, at some point your role will be revealed and not
in the nicest way – you know Joker. I believe that revealing it yourself will
be the better way.”
She shook her head exasperated.
“So easy for you to say!” she grunted. “You’ll turn me in?”
“I don’t want to but you must do something, Rachel…”
She crossed her arms and huffed.
“Give me some time – can you do that?”
Bruce nodded.
“That I can do. And I want you to know that I’ll testify that you saved me from
Joker and I’ll support you through all of it. I’ll vouch for you.”
Rachel gave him a small smile.
“When I heard on the news that you were alive I felt exhilarated for a
second…and then I convinced myself that Rachel Dawes had no relation with
Rachel Green, little Bruce’s friend; that you had no importance for me,
Jackie’s accomplice; that nothing would change with your resurrection. And then
Jackie told me to seduce Harvey and pretend your friend; and it was like a
really bad joke every minute I had with you or Harvey waking things I believed
dead long ago.”
“Joker knew about our childhood friendship?”
Rachel shook her head.
“No; neither that I was born in Gotham. His infatuation with you was a huge
tragic irony for me; a set up formed by life. If he knew he would have been
laughing his guts out.”
“One of life’s pleasant set ups. Dawes is your mother’s family name?” Bruce
chose to change the subject to give her some air.
“I took my mother’s surname after they divorced: thankfully, your parents had
provided for that possibility.”
Bruce stood and Rachel followed.
“I know you probably don’t believe me” he told her. “But I’m really happy I
found you.”
She lolled her head to the side holding the stuffed Eeyore.
“It’s odd for me but…I believe you” she chuckled. “This is yours…” she gave him
the toy but Bruce shook his head.
“No, it’s yours; I gave it to you along with a promise…”
 
“Ms. Philips, good afternoon; it’s Bruce Wayne. Can you send some flowers to
Mr. Petrou’s hospital room with my wishes for a quick recovery?” he tapped his
fingers on the wheel as his secretary answered; he was speaking to the car’s
wireless calling system. “Thank you very much, Ms. Philips… Yes, I’m fine,
thank you; just resting as Dr. Thompkins ordered.”
He smiled at Ms. Philips’ approval.
“Enjoy the rest of the day, Ms. Philips!”
Bruce had sensed from the moment he left the Manor that he was followed
although his stalker wasn’t caught by the sensitive scouting system Tony had
installed; the stealth and the skill of that stalker was impressive and Bruce
smirked.
The black sleek dazzling car that made the drivers on the street and the people
on the pavements goggle slowed down to turn in an alley. Bruce halted, got out
of the car, leaned loosely on the side of the car, crossed his arms and waited.
It took only one minute for the common bike to enter the alley and stop close
to the car. Bruce watched as the driver pull of the helmet to reveal a waist
length brunette pony tail and a gorgeous face.
She rolled her forest green shining eyes.
“You shouldn’t enter dark alleys.”
“Dark alleys are my element…” he lifted his eyebrows “and I wanted to confront
my stalker…”
“Bodyguard, handsome” Selina said playfully. “You forgot that you hired me and
it’s my job to watch over you?”
“I haven’t paid you yet” he raised an eyebrow.
“Fair point” she winked. “Then it seems that I do it for the thrills and the
employer.”
Bruce left his spot and walked to his friend.
“Alfred sounded the alarm?”
“No, though he should. But a good bodyguard never loses her boss so I followed
you discreetly.”
Bruce chuckled.
“I figured you out…”
She rolled her eyes and snorted.
“You’re not the average person, are you?” she whispered smugly and Bruce
lowered his gaze smiling.
“You’re not pissed for my morning behavior?”
She shook her head and shrugged.
“C’me on, sweetie; even when you try hard you’re not bratty enough; you have to
do much more to get to me and frankly I doubt you got the talent” she pressed
her lips. “Besides you have so many things to battle over so that’s only
understandable that sometimes you snap – I know how much you love me and that
you was suffering this morning. And Tony knows too…”
Bruce sighed.
“I’m very lucky to have you…” he hugged her and Selina patted him reassuringly.
“I hope you remember that when you sign my paycheck, mister…”
Bruce chuckled and released her to lock eyes with her.
“Hm… I don’t know if I’ll do that…” he smiled mischievous. “And which will be
your payment?”
Selina became very serious now.
“Return to the Manor and do whatever Leslie and Alfred tell you.”
“I’ll go to the Tower to see if it’s still upright and I’ll return to the Manor
like a good boy.”
Selina cocked an eyebrow.
“If it’s indeed for the Tower I can assure you that it’s in its place.”
“I want to talk to Lucius…”
“And Tony?” she squinted.
Bruce sighed.
“I guess…”
“And then you’ll go right back: I’ll be watching…” she shook her index finger
warningly and Bruce grinned.
“Cross my heart and hope to die” he answered playfully. “A British swear I
learnt from Alfred” he winked.
Selina purged her lips and frowned.
“I thought it was American?” she said before putting on her helmet.
Bruce opened the car’s door.
“Alfred is not sure about its origins and when he says something I can’t say
otherwise, can I?” he shrugged innocently, winked and jumped in his car.
 
***** Chapter 50 *****
“Mr. Wayne! That’s a pleasant surprise!” Lucius Fox exclaimed with a broad grin
on his face and stood to shake Bruce’s hand. “I was planning to visit the Manor
after the work. How are you feeling?”
Bruce smiled.
“I’m fine, Lucius, thank you” he lifted his eyebrows “my head is thicker than
it looks…”
“Thank Goodness for that! Please have a seat” he showed the stool next to his
at the working bench. “You could have asked my secretary to call me and not
having to come to the lab.”
“You know I love your lab and…I wanted to keep my presence at the Tower
incognito.”
Lucius nodded.
“You mean the horde of reporters out there; I gather you used the back entrance
to the underground parking…”
“Not only the reporters…” he glanced at his outfit and Lucius laughed
understanding.
“It’s an outfit appropriate for your young age yet I’m sure that Alfred would
be particularly reprimanding if he learns that you walked the Tower dressed
casually” he widened his clever eyes playfully “So I assume you prefer this to
be kept confidential?”
Bruce smiled.
“It certainly would save me from trouble…” he looked at the complicate machine
on the bench where several lights and indicators blinked. “I wanted to thank
you for completing so fast the vaccine – if only we had kept Superman to the
clinic…”
“We’ll find him, Mr. Wayne and he’ll be fine.”
“The Lazarus Pit would be able to restore the damage?”
Lucius winked.
“I prefer to call it Water of Immortality.”
Bruce’s eyes focused on Lucius’ face eager.
“Me too. So…the ‘recipe’ I gave you was right?”
“Yes, Mr. Wayne, it was; of course our efforts with Mr. Stark was centered into
adjusting the concoction to Kryptonian physiology. Now we proceed to the next
face that researches the possibilities of the serum for the human organism.”
Lucius smiled fondly at Bruce’s persistent gaze and touched some selections on
the screen opening a window with a video. He signaled with his fingers to Bruce
and the youth leaned eager to see. Lucius pointed the special pen to a red
spot.
“It’s one of Superman’s cells magnified a million times and saturated with red
dye; as you can see the cell is in a tragic state – we kept it under constant
contact with your cells” he turned his eyes to Bruce who had lost himself in
the dying cell “is not your fault, Mr. Wayne: weren’t for you Superman would
eventually die without anyone doing something about it.”
Bruce gave a reluctant grin and nodded; Lucius touched the button to move to
the next frame.
“Here we have administered the Water of Immortality to the cell; watch…” the
vitality indicators at the down right corner of the video manifested an
impressing rise but even if you didn’t know to read the indicators the cell
didn’t look weak and weathered as the frames went on.
Lucius smiled widely and his eyes with a joyful shine found Bruce’s.
“Amazing…” the young man exclaimed. “And if it’s exposed to my cells again?”
“This cell is already vaccinated, we gave it the vaccine so…” he moved forward
the video to a frame where a blue cell which Bruce knew that it was his came
in; the time indicator at the bottom line of the video showed the seconds and
the minutes passing with Bruce’s cell close to the Kryptonian cell the vitality
indicators of which didn’t manifest a decline.
Bruce stretched obviously relieved and Lucius closed the video.
“It remains to find Superman…” Bruce mumbled.
Lucius took off his glasses.
“Mr. Stark has recruited his superhero team” Bruce twitched his lip
disapprovingly. “But… do you happen to have any clue concerning his
whereabouts?” he inquired narrowing his clever shining eyes.
Bruce looked at the floor and then met Lucius’ stare again.
“Ra’s Al Ghul had his suspicions but he didn’t know the exact location and
neither do I.”
“But you can give the clues to Mr. Stark and his team to search.”
He shook his head negatively.
“Ra’s searched for Superman’s secret base years without results; so it might
not even exist and Superman can be anywhere. Giving them the supposed clues I
might hinder the search.”
Lucius nodded.
“And?” he asked catching the something more.
Bruce pressed his lips.
“If they find him in his safe hideout in his state he’ll feel betrayed,
threatened, he’ll put up a fight with detrimental results.”
“So you want to give him a chance to calm down and maybe go there yourself?”
Bruce sighed.
“It’s a sensitive issue, isn’t it?”
Lucius leaned his head showing his agreement and Bruce tapped his fingers on
the bench.
“When Joker held me at Dolcetto he had used Kryptonite to incapacitate
Superman” Lucius nodded and the younger man licked his lip. “Superman was
almost half dead but when I returned to take him away and carried him along
with Selina instead of getting worse he seemed to recover.”
He opened his hands.
“Isn’t it odd? I mean I was afraid that under the combination of Kryptonite
radiation and my effect he would be finished…Is there an explanation?” he
purged his lips and shook his head. “Maybe the effect stops after longtime
exposure or maybe Clark’s body created antibodies?”
“Mr. Stark told me about that phenomenon and we had the chance to replicate the
conditions…” he put on his glasses and touched the screen with the special pen
and a video began playing. “Superman’s weakened cell” he pointed to the green
saturated magnified cell “a chunk of common Kryptonite is added.”
“The cell begins weathering…” Bruce pointed at the indicators at the down
corner of the video that made an impressive dive.
“And then we bring one of your cells in the equation…” the life indicators of
the red cell began increasing rapidly “now, we take the Kryptonite chunk away…”
the indicators kept improving till they reached the levels before the
Kryptonite addition and stopped there beginning after a while their slow
degeneration.
Bruce rubbed his forehead.
“So, Superman’s body can’t develop antibodies to fight off the effect…”
Lucius nodded.
“His body can’t develop antibodies to something that recognizes as desirable
and not lethal: remember that Superman can’t be infected by the known diseases
of the earth so his organism isn’t trained to make antibodies in this
environment.”
“Then what happened?”
Lucius lolled his head to the side and tapped his finger on his lips.
“That can be a mystery or something with a simple explanation” Bruce’s eager
eyes prompted him. “After such lengthy exposure Superman’s cells are addicted
to yours, exactly as an alcoholic’s so his cells crave and desire yours” Bruce
gulped uncomfortable and Lucius patted him on the shoulder. “Your cells are the
reinforcing stimuli; the stimuli that are connected with pleasure and peace
even though unknowingly harmful; therefore his cells sensing you near
manifested an amount of recovery encouraged and empowered by the joy of the
expectant reinforcement.”
Bruce frowned; he had read something similar.
“Hm…Something like the placebo effect?”
Lucius smiled.
“Very good thought! What happened at Dolcetto was a combination of the mind’s
power over the physical functions and the addiction. The addict feels renewed
when takes his drug…” he raised his eyebrows. “Till it permanently cripples or
kills him. As for the mind’s power: psychology, Mr. Wayne; he was feeling
horrible and suddenly he saw the one he loves and is addicted to and that gave
him new power at least to fight the Kryptonite radiation.”
Bruce bit his lower lip.
“If I’m getting it right: at Dolcetto two harmful factors struggled with each
other; the one, me, defeating the Kryptonite.”
“Like when doctors infect with a benign form of cancer a patient who suffers
from a very aggressive form of cancer so that the aggressive form can be
neutralized.”
“That means I functioned as a kind of shield against the common Kryptonite’s
radiation.”
“Exactly. However it was the exact set of conditions that created that; if you
didn’t appear on time Superman would have died and if the Kryptonite was the
special kind then your presence would have killed Superman sooner.”
Bruce shook his head thoughtful.
“The sure thing is that I want all this effect matter to end. Lucius, there’s
something else I want to ask you.”
Lucius shrugged smiling.
“Go ahead, Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce pressed his lips and searched Lucius’ eyes indecisive.
“Could a concussion or the use of drugs possibly make some true memories
resurface?”
Lucius took his glasses off and kept them in his hand.
“Flashbacks. As during sleep?”
Bruce nodded.
“Look, Mr. Wayne; I’m not an expert. Dr. Thompkins would provide you with a
safer answer.”
The younger man looked him deep in the eyes.
“She would ask too many questions…”
Lucius leaned towards him.
“Which you’re not willing to answer. So either you consider me less curious
than Dr. Thompkins…” he cocked both eyebrows “or less caring…”
Bruce pouted.
“Actually I consider you more poised.”
Lucius gave an amused laughter and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“You’re amazingly clever and diplomatic, Mr. Wayne!”
The youth shrugged innocently.
“Just honest. Well?”
“From my extracurricular readings I know that sometimes the mind in order to
protect itself against very traumatic experiences oppresses those experiences
burying them into oblivion” Bruce gave a nod. “Now these experiences can be
accessed at times when the defense mechanisms of a person are lowered, as in
sleep or unconsciousness or hypnotism or drug use. Or when some equally strong
new experience triggers the past experiences.”
Bruce had read about that in the net but you can’t trust everything there.
“What do you know about the Gotham’s caves?”
“No more than yourself, Mr. Wayne; you have been exploring those caves more
than any speleologist.”
Bruce rubbed his temple.
“Have you ever seen anything…odd down there?”
Lucius frowned.
“Other than bats, no…but I doubt you consider your friends odd” his voice had
that quality of the patient interest and suspicion.
The younger man looked the scientist in the eyes determined.
“Lucius, do you believe that demons exist?”
The man blinked and drummed his fingers on the bench pondering. He leaned
towards Bruce interested.
“After the fight with Joker you went to the caves and there you saw something
involving a demon?”
Bruce sighed; it was difficult admitting something like this yet Lucius’ calm
and understanding voice filled him with safety. He coughed.
“Well…I have seen that creature again in a nightmare…”
“A nightmare or a flashback?”
He shook his head.
“I can’t say…I believe it was just a nightmare but then I saw him in the
caves…and I know that I had a concussion and that the drugs Joker gave me cause
hallucinations…”
“But you still wonder.”
Bruce closed his eyes and rubbed his eyelids.
“Is that I think I saw him again when I first went to the caves; he had taken
my dad’s form but I knew he wasn’t him. And that isn’t a hallucination because
I remember this – I mean it was a flashback after the concussion but I’m
certain that that happened.”
“And the other time you saw again the demon? You don’t remember if that really
happened.”
He shook his head in denial.
“Do they exist?”
Lucius leaned back on the chair and crossed his arms.
“The sure thing is that thankfully I haven’t met any supernatural demon; all my
troubles were coming from very humans…” Bruce nodded. “And I’m a scientist and
science tends to deny everything not proved.”
He saw the youth’s eyes eager to hear.
“However the healthy science realizes that something which isn’t proved till
now may be proved the next day or month or century. Various peoples all over
the world and through the centuries speak about such creatures: we can’t be
sure about their exact nature. They might have been beings different than
humans and not exactly as we define them, that is the angels that fell from
Grace. The thing is, Mr. Wayne, that I can’t give you a definite answer as to
whether they existed, exist or not, or what exactly they were.”
Bruce nodded.
“Thank you, Lucius.”
The older man smiled.
“For nothing…The League of Shadows held knowledge from the ancient times,
knowledge like the Water of Immortality and, I’m afraid, darker knowledge.
Maybe if you manage to decipher their files you’ll find the answers you look
for. Or asking someone of them though I know it’s not easy.”
Bruce rose and Lucius made the same.
“The discussion with you was very informative as always.”
“I try my best, Mr. Wayne” he said and walked to a round shaped gadget like a
small refrigerator and pressed a combination of buttons causing the ejection of
a round surface where various ampoules were attached.
He took two of them and adjusted them in two insulin injection pens. He offered
them to Bruce.
“You believe that Superman will attack me?” Bruce had the special ‘anti-
Superman’ safety measures in the Manor deactivated, hoping that the Man of
Steel will come to talk to him. So the ampoules Lucius offered him could be
useful; he knew what these were: the vaccine and one dose of the Water of
Immortality.
Lucius raised his eyebrows.
“It’s better to have every scenario covered, right? I know this is your modus
Vivendi too” he winked and Bruce smiled, stashing the pens in the inside pocket
of his jacket.
Lucius escorted Bruce to the small hall before his lab.
“Try to get some rest; I’m sure it will benefit Alfred too…” he smiled and
Bruce grinned.
The scientist gestured to a door at the corridor.
“It’s the lab Mr. Stark chose to build Joker’s cell – he’ll be very happy to
see you.”
 
Tony was welding something looking like a metal box; his eyes were angry behind
the special mask and his teeth gritted. He heard the bell attached to every
lab’s door which alerted for a newcomer but didn’t turn neither answered hoping
that whoever the visitor – probably, Pepper – would leave. However, the system
gave the discreet sound of someone entering having pressed the code.
He halted the weld and huffed annoyed.
“Pep, hon, I told you I don’t want any interruption and that you have – as
always – my consent to act as you believe right. What exactly you didn’t
understand of that simple request?” his voice was flat and definitely cold and
to give emphasis he didn’t turn around.
“Is this the way to speak to your devoted personal assistant and wonderful
girlfriend?”
Tony’s eyebrows rose almost above the mask – that definitely wasn’t Pepper’s
voice. He pulled off the mask and tossed it on the bench; he turned to see
Bruce in front of the door. The younger man was serious but his eyes shone
playfully.
“How did you escape your guard?”
He smiled.
“I took his permission…”
Tony nodded and looked his friend frowned.
“Alfred would have never allowed you to come to the Tower dressed like this.”
“He doesn’t know I’m here…”
Tony yanked slowly his head, pouting his lips and squinting.
“Oh…you’re such a bad boy” he dragged his voice mockingly scolding.
Bruce lolled his head at the side narrowing his eyes.
“I was always a trouble maker…” he walked to Tony. “I’m sorry for the morning”
he apologized looking him in the eyes.
Tony shook his head.
“To tell you the truth, I expected to be kicked out of the Manor” he craned
slightly his head “it must be painful for you to see me around after everything
that happened.”
Bruce squinted.
“What happened?”
Tony shook his head and grabbed his waist.
“I know that Joker taunted you with my…feats the years you were captive” his
friend opened his mouth but Tony halted him. “I saw the rags” he cocked an
eyebrow “actually, everyone saw them. He used my frivolous, scandalous life to
torture you while you suffered. So I’d expected from you to confront me for
that, swear at me and ask me to give you some space or leave you alone. And
believe me that would have been totally understandable.”
A hammer hit Bruce’s skull but he didn’t show anything.
“Tony, no…listen…I wasn’t mad at you not even annoyed…I mean…indeed Joker
taunted me and I felt…” he breathed deeply. “I was under the effect of the
drugs and oversensitive yet I’d never have asked you to…apologize because
during the years you believed me dead you chose to live like this. It’s your
life, Tony and even if you wanted to live like this now, I wouldn’t have judged
you. I know you loved me and you were devastated with my supposed death. On the
other hand, you were too young and fool of life and I wanted for you to
continue your life and have fun…”
Tony lowered his head and purged his lips: of course Bruce would never judge
him for anything and would want him happy yet it surely had an impact on him;
bitterness even without anger or grudge. He had to explain to him about all
those years. He placed his hands on Bruce’s shoulders.
“Sit down, little…” he stopped abruptly remembering his friend’s morning
reaction. “Bruce” he hastened to correct his expression.
Bruce sat on the stool and locked eyes with Tony; he pressed his lips feeling
awfully for the way he snapped at his friend the morning and how it ruined
Tony’s so pleasantly impulsive nature.
“You can call me ‘little guy’, Tony; I…it was…I don’t know why I reacted like
this. I know I’m not the little guy you knew but hearing it from you feels like
the good years come back…”
“You’ll always be my little guy…though you are taller than me” he coughed. “I
have to explain, Bruce.”
“No, you don’t, Tony.”
Yet Tony shook his head determined and hushed the younger man.
“When they declared you dead it was like a part of me died along” he licked his
lips. “The pain was unbearable and then was replaced by a numbness so ruling
that everything around seemed ridiculous and without any importance. You know
that from an early age I drank beer” he inhaled “beer was always something
pleasant for me so I thought to try it again…It was stupid and I knew about
alcoholism and although I realized that it was embarrassing for a…smartass
genius like me to seek relief in alcohol… Frankly, I didn’t care. I was
drinking beer and it was soothing; the sweet oblivion while dizzy, the
exhausted sleep after the intoxication.”
Bruce nodded.
“And then I sought for stronger relief, stronger and longer lasting oblivion so
I drank heavier and stronger booze. And I thought it was happiness forgetting
everything; who I used to be. And then women eager for easy booze and fun were
approaching me” he raised his eyebrows “I always had a soft spot for sex so I
dived face first; and it was more oblivion, more numbness, more detaching from
myself and the memories. The more the partners the more the old Tony dissolved.
Mom was desperate but had understanding: she told me many times that this
wasn’t a solution, that I was destroying myself, that I wasn’t getting rid of
the pain that way because the pain was my love for you that would never die;
that you would have never wanted that for me. Ol’ Howard was furious; we had
many fights; he was berating me harshly but I felt good for that so stubbornly
I sank deeper. I hated him for keeping co-operating with Falcone.”
He inhaled.
“My mom was right: the pain was always there because your memory was always
there too because I didn’t want to stop remembering you.” He closed his eyes.
“When my parents died and I took over the Industries Howard’s deals with
Falcone that always made me mad gave me the chance to take my revenge. I kept
partying and drinking and orgying but with a new purpose driving me. And then I
heard about the vigilante who fought Falcone’s rule and I found an ally even if
he didn’t know and an example as to what else I could do; and then I heard the
rumor that Falcone had the supposed dead son of the Waynes and finding out if
that was true became my priority along with Falcone’s disaster. After that
night you – FINALLY! – admitted that you are Bruce Wayne my need to escape
reality with booze and sex disappeared.”
He shook his head.
“It wasn’t that I stopped caring or remembering or…loving you…” he gulped. “It
was the only way I had to show my anger and hatred for world’s injustice; the
only way to manage my feelings…” he laughed. “By drowning them in alcohol…I
didn’t want to do the good things we planned together because those things were
meant to be done by both of us and if I did them alone it’d be more pain…” he
scratched his hair.
Bruce pressed his lips and locked eyes with Tony.
“It was because of me you led yourself to all these…”
Tony yanked his head and shook his head nervously.
“No, no, no…It was my stupidity, my cowardice!”
“You’re not a coward, Tony!”
“I am! At least those years…People find other ways to cope with…loss; they
fight their sorrow, they don’t let depression defeat them. They don’t spend
their money in bullshits hiding behind their pain and forgetting that other
people around them suffer too. I made my mother suffer, I attacked Alfred many
times for his supposed betrayal, I avoided Leslie; I let your beloved city
fall.” He rubbed his forehead. “If I had stayed sober I’d have understood why
Alfred served Falcone; I’d have searched for you…” he sighed. “I’d have saved
you…Your body and soul wouldn’t be so scarred.”
Bruce blinked several times remembering how many times during Falcone’s
treatment he had imagined Tony bursting inside and saving him from his
torturers. Yet he knew that nothing could have been done…And hearing Tony so
sad, so apologizing, so regretful it wasn’t right. Tony’s eyes were searching
his face worried.
“Are you alright?” the older man asked afraid of some deterioration of his
condition.
Bruce smiled.
“I’m fine, Tony. Please, don’t think like this. It wasn’t your fault. You
couldn’t have done anything.”
“Stop making excuses for everyone!” he yelled but instantly lowered his voice.
“Don’t make excuses for me.”
“There’s no way Falcone would have let me go. If you had searched for me,
either he’d have killed you…”
Tony shook his head in denial but he couldn’t laugh at this.
“Nobody can kill Tony Stark even then: I could have created Ironman from then.”
But Bruce unfazed stilled his eyes on his.
“Or he’d have killed me to erase his tracks; Alfred had the proofs to go after
him but Falcone threatened him that he’d kill me even on the suspicion of a
hostile movement. Stop blaming yourself, Tony; forget that thoughts and let’s
focus on the present” Tony didn’t miss the shade of fatigue in his voice. “I’m
the luckiest person on the world for having you as a friend; that you never
forgot me and you’re still here.”
Tony touched his palm on Bruce’s forehead sensing for fever.
“Are you sure your brain didn’t shake too much?”
“Leslie can say that” he shrugged. “But this is the truth, Tony; the fact that
my behavior becomes…outrageous sometimes and…insulting has nothing to do with
you. I just…There are moments I can’t, no, I don’t care to restrain myself and
I know it’s unfair to you…”
Tony nodded and cupped Bruce’s hand.
“It’s the concussion and the drugs that monster gave you…you’ll be OK.”
Bruce smiled.
“You’ll stop feeling guilty?”
Tony winked.
“I’m the notorious Tony Stark, baby! And by the way, I hate to admit it but
you’re right about the Avengers; I shouldn’t have involved them.”
The younger man furrowed his brows.
“Why?”
“They asked too many questions about the reason I’m searching for Superman and
if that has anything to do with you.”
Bruce rubbed his chin.
“Well, I don’t blame them…”
Tony cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms.
“You’re with them or with me?”
“I’m just saying that it was expected: even if they don’t spy you for the
S.H.I.E.L.D. they still would want to know what’s going on. Even from simple,
human curiosity and professional suspiciousness. This is why I prefer to work
alone or with selected, trusted people…”
“Like your pal Tony…”
“Exactly.”
“And Fury was asking about your health while Captain America and the Black
Widow volunteered to protect you!” Bruce closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Really, buddy, even if I wasn’t the self centered, attention seeking person I
am, still the way people become obsessed with you would have been annoying” he
sobered “The borders between this obsession being beneficial for you or
detrimental are too obscured…”
“Tell me about it…” Bruce sighed and looked around with narrowed eyes to change
the subject. “You were supposed to be building a cell?”
“Hehe! The fact you don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not here, buddy…”
He didn’t let Bruce ask; he clapped once and a square space appeared from thin
air formed by walls made from blue neon rays thick as waterfalls. Bruce’s eyes
widened and Tony grinning broadly rose; Bruce following.
“This can be installed in any cell; it’s nano-technology: the blue neon walls
are impenetrable. If Joker tries to pass them…” he saw Bruce’s eyes narrowing
and smirked “no, he won’t be fried: he’ll be showered with a mixture of
sedatives immediately knocking him out. And…I have some ideas more that we can
discuss. But for now you’ll go to the Manor and have some rest; I bet Alfred is
on the verge of a stroke…”
Bruce was feeling a bit tired and Alfred surely was worried by now. He nodded
and Tony patted him on the upper arm.
“Be careful on the road” Tony said.
“I got your car.”
Tony crossed his arms and looked him with narrowed eyes.
“Nice. But it’s your car…”
Bruce nodded smiling and walked out. Tony closed his eyes and inhaled deeply
relieved: the huge tombstone that had set on his chest finally left him.
 
Bruce was feeling better too though his head throbbed a bit. As the voice in
the lift informed him that he reached the parking he wanted nothing more than
returning to his bed which was a surprise for him.
Stepping out of the lift he bumped on someone; he rubbed his eyes and looked at
the person he collided with.
“I’m sorry, sir; I’m a bit dizzy and…”
It was definitely a man; a tall man dressed in a fine black suit which
highlighted his bulged toned body. He wore a black fedora which cast his face
in shadow along with the dimly lit parking. Bruce saw clearly a stunning sly
smile revealing pearly white teeth however the shadow hid his eyes.
“A pleasant accident, Mr. Wayne” an incredibly suave voice answered and Bruce
felt an unexplained shiver. “Though…” Bruce felt drawn to the wall without
anyone pushing him; he looked puzzled the stranger who followed his retreat
invading his personal space. “Though a lucent being like you shouldn’t wander
such dark places…” the man’s lips came to his, radiating heat and Bruce
retreated more to touch the wall. “But the little Bat loves shadows and
darkness, aren’t you? Human child?”
Bruce’s eyes widened as the stranger’s eyes pierced the shadows cast upon them
and shone yellow with ruby owl-like pupils. He didn’t avert his eyes from the
stranger’s exactly as the previous times, because this wasn’t a stranger.
“Oh, Bruce…”
He  felt icy cold hands burning his skin as they slipped under his T-shirt.
“Bruce?” Selina’s approaching voice echoed to the space behind a raw of cars.
The stranger stopped his exploring and smirked. He sniffed deeply Bruce’s
jugular and locked eyes with the young man who never flinched although he
realized that the stranger didn’t have a nose but only nostrils.
“That kitty cat…” his lips didn’t move but Bruce could hear his voice inside
his skull. “Till next time…” he tipped his fedora and slid into the lift
disappearing behind the closing doors.
Selina reached him clearly fraught; she scrutinized her friend with narrowed
eyes: he looked puzzled.
“Everything alright, Bruce?”
His eyes focused on her worried face and smiled reassuringly.
“Yes…I was ready to get in my car and leave” he looked at his T-shirt and it
wasn’t ruffled.
They began walking towards the black car.
“I thought you’d stay outside” Bruce said to take his mind from what had just
happened.
Selina shrugged one shoulder.
“That was the plan but I thought that despite the high security of the Tower
you never know what could be lurking in the corners.”
Bruce pressed his thumb on the car’s door and it gave a hiss opening the door.
He smiled to Selina who gaped awed at the car.
“You never know, indeed…” he mumbled remembering the stranger’s yellow eyes and
the emotions that were so familiar. “Thank you.”
“You can thank me letting me drive that beauty…”
Bruce hoped in the driver’s seat.
“I dooon’t think so…” he laughed. “I love this car and I don’t want it
to…get…lost during the ride.”
Selina clutched her waist and pouted.
“You don’t trust me?”
He protruded his lips pretending thinking.
“With thinks you like? NO! The last time I did you stole my painting…”
Selina rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“It was Falcone’s…”
“With me on it NAKED!”
“Otherwise it wouldn’t worth anything!”
Bruce lolled his head backwards huffing.
“You’re unbelievable! Jump in and I’ll give you a ride.”
“No way: I’ll drive. Alone. If you don’t give me the car for a ride I’ll have
to steal it…” she said playfully.
Bruce looked her with cocked eyebrows.
“You wish!”
“You challenge me, kiddo?” she sniffed at him. “You wanna bet that I’ll drive
that car whether you like it or not?”
Bruce clutched his head and Selina squatted and hugged his shoulders.
“What is it?” she asked worried.
Yet her friend smiled.
“Nothing. I just wanted to distract you!”
She gritted her teeth and punched him softly in the shoulder.
“You filthy manipulator! Off to the Manor now because I doubt that this was
just a dirty trick. I’ll follow you with the bike.”
“You can have some rest too, Selina; I’m safe in that car.”
“I bet but this is no reason to leave you out of my sight.” She turned to go to
her bike but halted, looked at him and smirked frowning. “You’re afraid to bet,
handsome…” she sang. “Chicken!”
She smiled and Bruce laughed; he pressed his thumb to the ignition and the
engine roared.
 
Superman strolled at the north side of his Fortress; he was dressed in his
ceremonial suit and had his arms crossed. The last 48 hours he remained there
avoiding speaking to Jor El and away from humans;  the inferior beings that
from his childhood treated him with contempt considering him stupid – well, he
was so used to being considered stupid that he adopted and cultivated it to
hide his superiority. Which was STUPID!
Why hiding that he is the best on this planet? Why feeling that he had to be
behind his oversized glasses and costumes to get his job done? Job…Not exactly.
He just chose to help those powerless humans because he was truly generous as a
real noble.
But now his feelings were in constant conflict; every insult done to him during
his double life came to bite him hard and laugh at him. Every life he saved
instead of filling him with joy mocked him. The man who is kind and generous is
considered an idiot! That was how that filthy planet worked.
He had made so much good to these people and his reward was to be mocked in his
deepest feelings: in his true love. Everyone was trying to keep him away from
his Star as if he was some kind of alien villain who would harm Bruce. Just a
few hours ago he almost died to save him and Stark wanted to give him some
poison to make him forget his love and who knows what more…
But his Star had saved him; came back to take him away from the danger. Bruce
had feelings for him, Clark knew it. But the others constantly tried to poison
his mind and turn him against Superman; like Joker did; like Stark and Catwoman
were doing right now. But he wouldn’t let them succeed.
He stood in front of the room he prepared for his Star: it was an exact replica
of the master bedroom in Wayne Manor. The same size, the same furniture in
their actual position, the same beddings, the same curtains, color and quality;
he had also provided the same window with the exact view to the grounds albeit
artificial.
He wanted his Star to be happy; he didn’t plan to keep him there against his
will but he had to isolate him from all these slanderers so that he would be
able to see the truth of Superman’s love and his own feelings. Because he was
certain that Bruce loved him and here in the magic of the arctic his Star would
find the peace, the true love and the happiness.
He sat on the king sized bed and brushed the beddings; he could imagine Bruce’s
naked body laid there craving for his touch. But Clark wouldn’t push him; his
Star though strong and fearless had too many horrors haunting him and Superman
wasn’t insensitive; he wasn’t like Joker. He’d be gentle, patient and
understanding; he’d wait. Bruce had a bad injury to his lower spine and his
prostrate and Superman had to be careful.
Though his body was protesting angrily: those 48 hours thousands miles far from
Bruce had made his body agitated and demanding; the mere thought of the youth
or even worse the replaying of his images with or without clothes made his body
react maniac. Masturbating wasn’t enough anymore: his insatiable body ordered
to be given the other body, the body he longed for.
That was the reason he hadn’t already stormed at the Manor and taken Bruce
away. He wanted to let his desire ebb so that he didn’t harm him. For that he
didn’t attempt even to eavesdrop on him – he was afraid that getting a slight
stimulus from Bruce would lead him to crazy desire. Besides he hadn’t snatched
him from Leslie’s clinic to let him heal…
The memory of what he heard in the clinic coming from Bruce’s mouth to Luthor
made that unbeatable jealousy flare up; he rubbed his cheeks: no, he wouldn’t
let Bruce fall for that bastard. Luthor was seeing his Star as a whore: an
enviable prize to be acquired. But Superman wouldn’t be beaten by Luthor in
that…
He’d explain to Bruce that Luthor was a criminal, a scum that cared only for
his prominence, wealth and power and didn’t give a damn if it included harming
other people; in his plan for the planet’s supposed welfare lives of people
didn’t have much importance.
On the contrary, he as Bruce himself cared for every human being; that was the
reason Superman even now who felt insulted and angry couldn’t resist a call for
help and he was sure that his dark but simultaneously so bright Star
appreciated that.
“The kitten was healed and we raised him. I was taking him every night to Bruce
and we played behind the huge bin in Dolcetto’s back alley; Bruce loved him so
much! He was tickling the kitten’s belly and was laughing and sharing with Hero
the food I was bringing him… Chill killed the poor kitten before Bruce’s eyes!”
Superman sighed: he wanted so much to give Bruce his lost kitten. He bet that
his Star would laugh like a small child if he saw again his little friend. His…
Hero: that was his name. But he had no idea how this kitten was…That would have
been one hell of surprise for Bruce. Maybe if Bruce confided in him how his
kitten was he could find one like him. He smiled; he had saved many kittens
from trees…
Suddenly, his olfactory memory flooded him with Bruce’s aroma; that was mean,
that was backstabbing but…also it was heavenly and it pushed his optical nerves
to form his Star’s form in perfect detail…without any clothes. And his hands
followed remembering the seconds he touched Bruce’s flesh in the clinic; his
lips tasting again Bruce’s lips. His penis twitched angrily, demandingly
declaring his desire to gain his own memories; his thirst to enter, to conquer,
to savor the other body.
His groin was in flames urging him, whipping him to move at last! To rose and
surge to Gotham and grab what was his and claim him forever. His heart beat
violently, furious and his hand travelled there to quench the fire feeding his
penis with the false regeneration of the feelings from Bruce’s flesh.
But his commanding penis didn’t bite the bait and Superman jerked his head in
despair: he had to listen to Bruce’s voice to sooth himself…
 
 It had been some hours since he was brought back from his training with Ra’s
Al Ghul and he was exhausted. His just healed arm was a bit throbbing but he
wasn’t scared because his new master wouldn’t let him become crippled again; he
was careful even though they had removed the sling.
He wanted to sleep but he had to wait for the customers to leave to clean the
cabaret. Even though he was under Ra’s’ protection and spared the morning
chores in favor of the training, he still had to sweep and mop the floors and
take out the garbage which was good because he could see Selina. The chores
were easier with both hands but now he had the exhaustion from Ra’s’ and his
other trainers’ demanding training; and then Ra’s claimed what was his and that
was even more demanding…
He waited at the basement as every night during those six years. From the day
Ra’s bathed him appropriately, dressed and groomed him Falcone’s treatment
changed somewhat. The Grey Wolf gave him now better clothes, brand new if he
remembered right how new clothes were: jeans and T-shirts formfitting to show
off his body – sometimes his eyes fleetingly found his reflection to the
cabaret’s windows and he blushed and panicked and from then he closed his eyes
every time he passed the windows. Falcone always enjoyed using him but now even
more…
Suddenly, he felt something powerful snatching his waist and blocking his mouth
with a huge icy cold palm. His heart started beating fast; he tried to escape
but the one holding him was so strong that his twitching didn’t succeed
anything.
“It won’t help if you scream or try to fight me…” a metallic, cold voice
dragged the words inside his skull and he felt the panic numbing his body.
He was crashed face first to the wall and an unbelievable weight pinned him
making his breathing even harder. He felt two hands unfastening his belt and
his eyes bulged because his mouth was still gagged and his waist gripped: they
were two? He yanked his head but the palm over his mouth smashed his resistance
as the other hands unbuttoned his jeans and with a swift motion removed both
jeans and underwear from his body.
A monstrous length already half erect rubbed painfully to his naked buttocks as
the second pair of hands pawed demandingly and then squeezed his genitals with
bruising force. Bruce whined in the hand covering his mouth; he wanted to plead
with the stranger but he wasn’t permitted to speak while the gigantic penis
became even bigger keeping on rubbing his buttocks which felt like burning.
Maybe he could speak to him in his mind since his attacker talked to him that
way; he knew it was crazy.
“I’m not ‘entertainment staff’, sir; you should take my master’s permission
first…He’ll be mad…please…”
He heard a velvety laugh and then a suave voice.
“Your master will be well paid…” he reassured somewhat sarcastic but this
reassurance only made Bruce’s heart race.
His balls were played cruelly by ten unnaturally long and razor sharp fingers
which clenched and tickled and nailed the tender flesh while…No, that wasn’t
possible! Two burning hands grabbed his thighs and stretched him so much that
was sure that surpassed his limits. He convulsed when the heavy, cannon that he
knew was an erected penis attacked his stretched entrance. As much as he or
they…whatever…spread him that monstrous thing couldn’t fit there…
But his attacker insisted on pushing while stretching him more; the head of his
penis catapulting his anus making some space and forcing his entrance to accept
what it could.
“Please, sir!” he cried in his head. “I can’t take it! Please stop!”
“You can…”
He shouted desperately in the stranger’s hand, his body twitching unable to
escape the excruciating pain as the fierce hands clawed down steeply his pelvis
on the metal-hard penis that crammed in his anus; he shut his eyes sure that he
was ripped in two. The gigantic thing thrust violently deep inside him and he
cried again his clenched body drenched in sweat trembling uncontrollably.
And then it began…The avalanche of punishing, unbelievably strong and fast
thrusts which reached his bones and caused electric currents to his insides.
Tears rolled his cheeks; he wished he could die that instant. But the impaling
became even faster and deeper till liquid spurt inside him burning his flesh.
And then he was turned, the pole still inside him tearing his anal channel. His
mouth was freed and his exhausted breath filled the space with rasps, sobs and
saliva; but then his arms were grabbed from the wrists and stretched upon his
head and his T-shirt pulled off his torso. He could see the stranger’s eyes:
bright yellow with red-blood slits as pupils; this wasn’t a human…His heart was
clenched and he was happy that maybe he was dying as his rasps became faster
yet he couldn’t stop staring those eyes as if challenging him to kill him off.
“Where’s your mark, human child?” the suave voice became demanding as the
hammering began stronger than before.
“I…” his voice was weak and hoarse from the muffled shouting “don’t know…” he
howled as the spear in his anus punished him with deeper and faster in-out
moves that grazed his flesh increasing the bleeding.
His torso arched in a hopeless cry and a fifteen inches tongue licked his body
from the belly button to his craned neck.
He could hear the flesh on flesh sound, the whining of his tortured anus and
the blood roaming his wide open legs which the creature wrapped around him
making the pain in his gaping anus unbearable. Bruce closed his eyes, as his
crazy heartbeat together with the tormenting rasping of his breath had
exhausted him; his mind was in a fog, dizzy, buzzing. The creature’s icy hands
twirled around his naked torso, six inch nails grazing his skin as a lava hot
mouth savored his bent backwards neck, kissing, sucking, licking and biting
grunting sensually and possessively.
Bruce sobbed but the sob became a yell when the drill in his destroyed anus
worked even faster, grinding his insides.
“No!” he shouted with the last power he had in his burning lungs.
But the mouth that claimed his neck captured his lips chewing them with real
hunger and pushed a thick lengthy tongue in his throat. Bruce gagged as the
tongue explored his cavities; he felt the air rapidly ending and his eyes
watered.
He was all sweaty and he felt blood slipping on his back; he knew he was fading
and his head lolled more backwards. But the stranger hugged him tightly and
glued him on his endless torso rocking him with his penetration movements that
had filled his anus with friction burns.
 It was like lying on ice; cold and burning hot. The thick tongue impaled him
more as the creature pushed another time in him and filled him with lava.
Bruce faded yet he still could feel soft lips massaging his hot cheeks and then
his ear.
“I missed you, human child…”
When his eyes unwillingly opened he was lying bare naked on the floor; his
pelvis felt ragged, shattered and his legs were numb and unwilling to try to
close. His anus throbbed and he inhaled deeply to calm the pain.
Thankfully, his clothes were close so he torturous slowly managed to put them
on with shaking hands. He knew that it’d be better if nobody found out. He
gritted his teeth and pressed his hands on the wall to support himself and
stand yet he still whined as the tiniest move irritated unbearably his
stretched anus and his burned inner flesh.
However Ra’s had already taught him some things on how to overcome pain so he
shuffled in the corridor.
Suddenly, he saw Chill in front of him and the shock made him lose his balance.
Yet the Vulture grabbed his arm and manhandled him to Falcone’s office; Bruce
knew he was doomed.
“A very tall man screwed him two times; he had a really huge dick twice the
bigger dildo I ever saw an’ really ripped him…” as Chill opened the door to the
boss’ office Bruce heard Gin, a new blond whore around 21 years saying
cheerfully to Falcone who regarded her with narrowed eyes.
He was thrown harshly on the floor and then set on his knees. Bruce knew that
girl: she was new and Falcone showed an interest to her though that didn’t stop
him from using Bruce every night which ignited Gin’s jealousy. She obviously
thought that Bruce enjoyed the boss’ ‘affinity’ so she watched him to find
something to accuse him for.
Falcone nodded, purging his lips. He stood slowly and approached Bruce who had
his face lowered. The Grey Wolf fisted his slave’s hair and jerked his head
backwards to look at him; his cold eyes were merciless.
“Ya’re flushed…” he said and slammed the boy’s head on the floor and kicked
Bruce’s protesting legs to open.
He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down along with the underwear; Bruce
could feel his estimating, angry stare as his abused entrance was revealed
gaping. A fierce punch sank in his tender buttocks and Bruce shouted to Gin’s
muffled giggles.
“Ya’re so horny and greedy that mutts from the street come to fuck ya! Two
pricks aren’t enough! Ya disgustin’ filthy slut!” he kicked him on the belly
and Bruce coughed only to be kicked again on his stretched out opening.
Bruce was moaning and Falcone left him to walk to Gin who smiled at him.
“Chill, take that blond bitch an’ give to Bruna; tell Bruna to gather all staff
in the great hall an’ then strip the slut, tie her to the central strip pole
an’ whip her back, ass, tits and pussy. Make her a zebra” he snorted “a
bleeding zebra!”
The girl’s eyes bulged as Chill yanked her long hair hoisting her.
“Please, boss, no! Why? I told you everything…”
Falcone smirked.
“Ya stayed an’ enjoyed the spectacle of my property bein’ trespassed instead of
inform me right away…Take her from my sight!”
Chill left the room and Bruce could hear the cries and sobs of the girl muffled
by slaps. But then he stopped listening as Falcone’s figure filled his vision.
The Grey Wolf yanked Bruce’s head and began slapping him with such force that
when he stopped holding him his body was tossed to the wall and slumped to the
floor.
He knew he was on for a hell of a beating when Chill returned bearing
something.
It was a big leather pouch.
“S’meone left that for ya at the coatroom.”
The Grey Wolf squinted and opened it.
For a few seconds the room was filled with the hissing sound of Signora Bruna’s
long, heavy bullwhip – Bruce knew that evil thing…-, Gin’s desperate shrieks,
sobs and imploring to be spared. Male and female sniggering came from the hall.
Bruce’s guts were twisted although Gin had snitched him.
Falcone opened the pouch and his eyes widened in ecstasy: two rubies almost at
80 carats each reflected on his grey eyes and his face beamed.
“Ya cannot find such pure rubies nowhere in the world! Look the color, the
shine, the size; I’ll get for these more than from the drug sales of a year!”
the mob boss exclaimed happy as a kid given a chocolate.
He saw a piece of old leather with a phrase written with burnt letters: “Your
payment.”
Ra’s had him laid on a soft table, naked. He was regarding his throbbing body,
caressing tenderly every inch, even his still stretched out anus; Bruce had his
head lolled to the side having his eyes closed. Ubu was there too keeping his
eyes shut.
“Bagdana isn’t just copulating” Ra’s stated calmly to Ubu “he’s mating. He’ll
come more times unless we stop him.” Ubu opened his eyes, his solemn, stern
gaze focused on Ra’s. “You must give the child the potion to repel the demon.”
“You shouldn’t have summoned the demon” Ubu said almost angry. “The potion will
wear off eventually and his passion will be insatiable”
Bruce squeezed his eyes desperate; they had given him to a demon and now the
demon wouldn’t stop till he was dead. He felt Ubu’s gaze on him and Ra’s hasten
to answer to his silent puzzlement for the reason he said all these in Bruce’s
presence.
“We’ll give him the Oblivion Serum too.”
Ubu bowed his head but his eyes were narrowed. He left the room and Ra’s kissed
Bruce’s lips.
“Don’t fret, child; I’ll protect you…”
He didn’t say anything, trying to put a brave face for his master yet when Ra’s
left letting Ubu to administer him the concoctions Bruce brought his knees to
the chest hiding his face.
Ubu took softly his chin and raised it to have Bruce’s eyes in his. His trainer
brought the old vial to his lips.
“You must drink it, child…”
“I just want to die…” he whispered and yanked his head hiding it behind his
arm.
Ubu caressed his hair and Bruce felt numb; his eyes were teary yet he opened
his mouth trembling.
“A car is parked in front of the Manor, sir; Metropolis’ car plates, owner Lex
Luthor.”
Bruce refocused to the peaceful green scenery of the Palisades; he was almost
in the Grounds. He ruffled his hair; he was nauseated, tired and with things to
do in his mind yet he’d see Luthor.
So he parked in the front of the Manor where Mercy Graves leaned on Luthor’s
white limousine. He climbed the steps to the main entrance and Alfred opened
before he pressed the bell.
“You’re extremely pale, sir” he exclaimed worried as soon as he set his eyes on
the youth.
“It’s nothing, Alfred; just a little tired.”
Alfred pressed his lips.
“You’re gone too many hours, Master Bruce; we didn’t agree on that.”
“I know, Alfred; I’m sorry” he said rubbing his temple entering the foyer.
“If you had come from the back entrance, I would be able to ask Mister Luthor
to come another time.”
“No, Alfred; I’ll see him” Bruce answered determined. “And then I have some
things to check.”
Alfred closed his eyes following the youth towards the salon.
“But, Master Bruce you need rest.”
Bruce halted and looked at him fondly.
“I know, Alfred but I don’t have much time.”
Alfred frowned but recovered his collected posture as Lex Luthor came in their
sight.
Bruce gave a polite nod but the tycoon from Metropolis beamed his eyes shining
hungry.
“Hello, Lex; I hope I didn’t make you wait too much but I wasn’t informed about
your visit.”
Luthor rose and shook the hand Bruce offered him.
“Not at all, Bruce; Alfred is a charming company.”
 
Superman was stroking himself hearing Bruce’s heartbeat although the rising of
beats at some times made him worry; yet he blamed it on his own aroused
heartbeat. However the orgasmic delight left instantly his face which distorted
hearing Bruce’s cordially greeting to Luthor; not again! His fists clenched.
 
“Please, have a seat, Lex” he sat in the armchair opposite him right after his
guest.
“Would you like a cup of tea, Master Bruce?”
“Thank you, Alfred.”
“Would you like some tea too, sir?” Alfred asked Luthor.
“No, Alfred; the scotch you offered me is all I need; a very rare mold, right?”
he answered, grinning crossing his legs and scrutinized Bruce after the butler
left them. “I like that outfit; you look even younger.”
 
Superman’s eyes began warming up.
 
“It’s handy when I want to visit the city without drawing much attention.”
Luthor winked.
“I know what you mean…” he said in mock sympathy but Bruce knew that the
attention seeking Luthor definitely didn’t know what he meant.
“I believed you’d be in Metropolis.”
“Mmm…” he swashed the scotch in his mouth. “I wanted to make sure you’re
alright.” He lowered his voice. “Your people are so protective that they don’t
even let others know about your health.”
“And your work? I know you’re too busy.”
“Gotham has more interest right now…and more potential.” He pinned Bruce’s
eyes. “And we have a date…” he cocked an eyebrow.
“Meeting…” Bruce answered steeling his eyes.
Luthor rose from his armchair and approached the younger man who raised his
eyes to look at him.
“Indeed; I have many business proposals for our companies’ future
collaboration. By the way, congratulations on the record rise of the shares.”
Bruce nodded.
“Thank you but it’s something achieved by joint effort from many people.”
“You’re so modest, Bruce” he said mildly. “In the business world modesty isn’t
an appreciated virtue” he added with the vein of a teacher. “I have so many
things to teach you and I’m so looking forward to…”
Bruce rose too; his lips tightened.
“I have already many people giving me guidance.”
Luthor came closer; too close yet Bruce didn’t flinch neither his heartbeat
rose.
“Of course but my experience is valuable to you. As my friendship. And I can
teach you other things too” he whispered his voice filled with innuendo. “I can
show how much pleasure you can receive from your” he roamed with his eyes
Bruce’s body “magnificent body.”
 
Superman felt cold sweat flooding his body; his breath becoming uneven with
anger and agony. Luthor seducing his Star! No, Bruce wouldn’t accept this;
Bruce wasn’t like this…
 
Bruce yanked his head and blinked. Were another occasion he’d have kneed again
Luthor’s balls but he needed to investigate him and his connections and he had
to be patient.
“You didn’t give the impression of someone attracted by men…” he replied calm.
Luthor laughed and took a sip from his scotch.
“Beauty doesn’t have gender, Bruce; so when I find beauty in our ugly world” he
shook his head “I don’t let it slip from my fingers.” His bent fingers almost
touched Bruce’s cheek.
Bruce lolled his head.
“Funny. This is what Falcone used to say…”
Luthor grinned and arched his eyebrows arrogantly.
“Obviously, he plagiarized me; unfortunately, I co-operated with him some
times.” He came so close to Bruce that his breath brushed the younger man’s
lips. “The truth is that I’m eagerly waiting our…meeting in hopes of turning it
into a date.” His grey glimmering eyes found Bruce’s. “Will you come to my
suite, Bruce?” his voice was throaty and suave.
 
No, Bruce. Superman shook his head. You can’t go; you know he wants to fuck
you. You can’t want to be fucked by someone like him!
 
Bruce yanked his head.
“I’ll come.”
 
Superman’s heart shattered in a million shreds and even the Fortress gave a
roar of anger along with him. Enough! That was the gravel that starts the
landslide. He stopped listening to the conversation because his ears buzzed
from boiling blood. Bruce was so poisoned, so corrupted that denied him for a
scum like Luthor. Bruce fooled him into considering him something precious
while he was…
“A WHORE!” He roared and the Fortress shook.
His eyes got red and he took off, the Fortress ceiling opening for him.
 
 
“I’ll come if you stop thinking like this; it’s not a date, but a business
meeting. Have that firmly in your mind, Mister Luthor.”
Luthor’s smile faded and he purged his lips disappointed but nodded.
Alfred entered the room with a silver tray, sniffing instantly the tension. He
served tea but Bruce kept looking affronted at Luthor.
A ringtone disrupted the tense silence and Luthor answered his LEXcell.
“I must leave” he said, smiling. “Business. Alfred, thank you for everything.
Bruce, we’ll talk again to fix the time; I’ll see you in my suite.”
Bruce nodded but didn’t say anything as Alfred escorted Luthor to the door. He
just ran to the master bedroom. He took the wireless phone and dialed a big raw
of numbers.”
“Cassandra, it’s Bruce” he said when a young voice answered. “I want your help,
Cassandra.”
“Of course Bruce.”
“I want you to tell me about the Black Butterfly; why your parents gave it to
my mother?”
He sensed some hesitation even through thousands of miles.
“They wanted to thank your parents for the good they made to our family and the
people here.”
“Yes, but you had told me that the Black Butterfly is a protecting charm as
well.”
A pause.
“It is.”
Bruce sighed.
“Cassandra, your parents gave the diamond to my mother for protection, right?”
The young woman didn’t answer right away.
“Right.”
“Protection from what, Cassandra?”
This time Cassandra spoke immediately.
“Bruce, I can’t speak more; I have to hang up, I’m sorry.”
“Cassandra, you’re not helping…” his voice was a mix of despair and
frustration.
“I’m sorry, Bruce; keep the Black Butterfly close…”
“But…”
The click was like a tombstone. Bruce cursed and threw the phone on the bed. He
clutched his head with both hands and opened the drawer and lifted the wooden
surface to reveal a second level where a black velvet pouch sat. He opened the
pouch and the black diamond smiled to him; he walked to the large window
looking the colors of the spectrum glimmering as the last rays of the sun
brushed the gem.
“Hey, Bruce!” a cold, angry, sarcastic voice so unlike the one he knew greeted
him.
***** Chapter 51 *****
Superman was floating outside the bedroom’s door with a smug look and a nasty
smirk on his beautiful face that now was deformed lacking his trademark
kindness. He had his hands crossed and glared at Bruce who frowned.
Bruce was ready to open the window to let him in: he saw that Clark was furious
and probably out of control but he preferred to confront him in hopes of
managing to talk to him and give him the vaccine.
Yet Superman surged shattering the bullet proof window and Bruce hunched down
to avoid the shreds. He saw Superman approaching him with arrogant steps and
rose slowly but unfazed from the alien’s towering posture which however carried
some scratches from the tough material of the window.
“You didn’t have to smash the window; I was ready to open.”
Superman chuckled and Bruce narrowed his eyes: it was like he was imitating
Chill.
“I bet you were…” he snorted. “I see you found the time to put your clothes
on…”
Bruce narrowed his eyes.
“What?!”
He saw Superman’s hand jerking to the air and he could avoid it but Bruce just
braced himself for the impact and took the violent slap that flung him to the
wall; he wanted to evaluate Superman’s state, to see how much he was corrupted
and if there was still a speck of the good hero.
The blow was strong and drew some blond in Bruce’s nostril and mouth but he
realized that even though he was prepared to avoid getting heavily damaged
Superman had lost much of his power. He didn’t let his body slump and clutched
the Black Butterfly hiding the gem in his hand; he heard the hiss of Superman
rushing to him but didn’t do anything to evade him. An iron hand clenched
Bruce’s throat and heaved him pinned to the wall; the grip was tight but
permitted him to breathe.
Superman turned his head to the window and blew filling the void with a thick
layer of ice and then his eyes targeted the lock of the door, spitting red fire
until the metal melted. He wanted to block anyone’s access to the room.
When Superman stared again at Bruce he met a complete calm gaze. There was no
flicker of fear in these mesmerizing eyes and he couldn’t scan any indication
of terror in his heartbeat or brain waves. The human was arrogant and was
challenging him with that annoying defiance; surely, Bruce thought that he
could escape him.
He tightened his grip on the tender neck without succeeding to make Bruce
flinch; he gritted his teeth and pressed his finger on the same spot that some
months ago Bruce pressed to paralyze him. The black diamond fell from Bruce’s
numb fingers but Superman’s every sense was absorbed in the human’s reactions.
Bruce didn’t lower his eyes though his body went numb supported only by
Superman’s almost choking hold.
“A millimeter wrong or a bit stronger and I’d be dead now” he said so collected
that it was like he was chatting and not being at the mercy of the most
powerful being on the planet.
Superman snorted.
“I have an eidetic memory, remember?” he snapped.
“It’s not about your memory but your skill.”
Superman tightened more his hold feeling the cells of the soft skin tearing
under his fingers; it’d definitely bruise. The human’s unwillingness to fear
him was getting on his nerves. Bruce didn’t respect him otherwise he wouldn’t
play with him to eventually toss him away and choose Luthor; the human wanted
to ridicule him. But he would give him reasons not only to respect but also to
be scared of him: he pressed his body to Bruce’s incapacitated body feeling the
billions of his cells breathe in relief and joy.
“Clark, you don’t want to do that…” Bruce’s voice was calm and understanding.
Superman enveloped Bruce’s ear in his mouth.
“So, now you’re so arrogant to think that you know what I want!” his voice
shook with anger and sarcasm as his lips played with Bruce’s earlobe.
Bruce fought the urge to close his eyes and unlock his body from the effect of
the pressing point yet he wanted to test Clark; see how far he would get.
“I just know that you’re not yourself…”
Superman yanked his head and looked at Bruce frowned.
“Because I fell for you? Because finally I realized that you’re not the
special, precious being I thought you were?” Bruce’s eyes shone and Superman
grabbed his upper arms and hit him to the wall. “You think I wanted to fell for
a CHEAP WHORE?!”
“The Prince of all whores!”
“You’re a whore and I’m your client!”
“Whether you want it or not, you’re already a whore, child!”
“Tony, you stupid whore! It’s Tony!”
“...You would never be even a mediocre fighter, because you are a whore.”
Bruce felt bile blocking his throat but he refused to gulp or close his eyes to
shut his torturers; he just gritted his teeth as his head banged to the wall
from the force of Superman’s rocking and the alien stopped abruptly. Bruce
raised his head with dignity.
“I warned you that I wasn’t for you.”
Superman let his upper arms and grabbed again his throat to have his other hand
free to brush Bruce’s brunette locks that had fallen to his forehead.
“I know it’s not your fault” the hero almost whispered, his lips grazing
Bruce’s cheek. “You were raised to be a whore; you grew up as a whore so even
now you act like one. As soon as Luthor show you your paycheck and promised you
more money, you forgot who he is; how he insulted you; your parents’ decency.
And you bent over for him.”
Bruce felt a hot wave of anger that didn’t allow manifest in his vitals.
Superman pressed his body more to his and Bruce sensed his arousal.
“How do you stand yourself, whore?” he asked mockingly “I would prefer to slay
myself than live the way you do, being everyone’s hooker; the hole for
everyone’s pleasure! I taught you a hundred ways to kill someone with your bare
hands…”
“Dagget was right” Superman hissed and Bruce frowned. “All these years you gave
yourself free of charge, so now for one million dollars you’ll make Luthor
taste Heaven. BUT I WON’T LET YOU!” he shouted at Bruce’s defiant eyes. “I
won’t let Luthor have what’s mine!”
Bruce lolled slightly his head.
“You sound like them and you are not…”
The tranquil suave voice only fuelled Superman’s wrath. The hand over Bruce’s
neck slithered under his jaw and his fingers caressed the human’s lips.
“Why?” he jeered. “Because ‘I’m light’? Because ‘I’m pure’?” he repeated
Bruce’s words from the day they spoke in front of Bruce’s parents’ graves.
His hand clawed cruelly his neck, yanking Bruce’s head upwards.
“Well, guess again, Star” this time ‘Star’ was filled with contempt. “I’m not
pure: I spilt your secrets to the public, I stalked you and peeked endlessly
under your clothes; I jerked off countless times replaying your image, your
perfume; eavesdropping your heartbeat…” his lips opened to swallow Bruce’s lips
but the younger man softly avoided him.
Superman cupped the human’s jaw and jerked his head.
“You’re not bad, Clark” Bruce said still calm though Superman’s demanding groin
throbbed on his pelvis sending a wave of old horror to his body that he forced
himself to ignore.
Superman’s eyes shimmered evilly; their crystal blue lost giving its place to a
burning red. He chuckled.
“And that lie is the reason you rejected me, huh, human? Because you’re a whore
and you’re trained to open your legs and your asshole only to those who have
the power to bend you, or the money to buy you! At first I believed that all
you needed was kindness and patience…” he closed his eyes. “But no…The only
thing you need is to feel that the other has the money and the power” his teeth
were rattling from malice and grudge. “Well, little slut; I have both!!”
His groin pushed violently Bruce’s pelvis and the younger man blinked; for a
second the claws of his past almost gripping his heart. Superman caught the
reaction and gave an evil smirk.
“What is it, whore? Is it too big for you?” he cackled. “I doubt it!”
Bruce regained his composure and stared at Superman’s eyes with sympathy.
“I know what’s happening to you” his voice was so steady and composed that
Superman felt enraged. “Let me explain, Clark.”
But the Man of Steel crushed his body on Bruce’s squeezing him to the wall and
tightened his grip on the human’s jaw threatening to break bones. Bruce felt
Superman’s other hand, pawing his torso. It was nightmarish yet he had been
trained to control his terror.
Superman licked his lips delighted by the sense of Bruce’s body under him; his
victory.
“I’m better than your previous masters; I’m not the pathetic human Clark but
the mighty Lord Kal El. I have more power from all of them together!”
Bruce pressed his lips because Clark’s powers were worn down.
“And I can have all the money of this pathetic planet” his lips almost caressed
Bruce’s eyes, his throaty voice filling the younger man’s head. “I can conquer
the whole planet in 24 hours and have you as my pet, my slave satisfying my
every desire…” his penis rubbed Bruce’s genitals demandingly.
“You love this planet, Clark and the people. You don’t believe all these
things…” but Superman captured his mouth with his own aggressively, wrestling
with Bruce’s defiant lips and pushing his tongue inside to invade the human’s
body gaining another triumph; only to receive a painful bite that made the Man
of Steel jolt shocked.
He wasn’t supposed to feel pain from a human’s lame biting; his tongue was
‘made of steel’ like the rest of him and Bruce’s teeth should have been
shattered from their attempt. Yet the human didn’t look like being hurt even
though his hand was squeezing his throat almost unbearably. Superman frowned:
this was…? Taste of copper in his mouth…Blood. That was impossible.
“Clark…”
“SHUT UP, YOU FILTHY BITCH!” Bruce sighed and braced himself seeing Superman’s
hand coming to his face. “I haven’t persuaded you yet that I can subdue you and
you think that you can challenge me with your cheap tricks.”
Once again Superman’s slap wasn’t as strong as it should have been and Bruce
knew how to protect his head from the consequences yet he let his head loll to
the wall and then slowly raised it to look Superman in the eyes.
“You don’t feel so strong now, huh?” Superman snorted. “Mighty Batman?”
However Bruce’s gaze was completely unfazed though now both his nostrils had
blood.
“You’re not yourself, Clark.”
Superman’s hand that had slipped under Bruce’s T-shirt came out to shake an
aggressive index finger in front of the human’s face.
“But I want you to be your slutty self so I’ll treat you as you deserve to be
treated…” he smiled evilly. “Like the cheapest street hooker!”
And in an instant Bruce realized that his jacket was tossed away and he
searched agonizingly for any traces of liquid; fortunately, Lucius’ ampoules
were unbreakable.
Yet Superman grabbed with both hands Bruce’s T-shirt and ripped it in a split
second leaving Bruce’s torso completely naked and the rags on the floor;
Superman’s eyes bulged hungrily and his nostrils flared up sniffing the scent.
He glued his body on Bruce’s limp body and dove his face to Bruce’s chest
licking the impressively formed pectorals, the aroma intoxicating him; his
hands feeling demandingly every inch of the taut, beautiful muscles.
Bruce jerked his head and inhaled deeply, stretching his neck as Superman began
sucking his nipples, grazing them with his teeth. He made a slight motion with
his head and undid the grip that had paralyzed his body. He felt suffocating
and recruited his training to calm himself. And he didn’t react though he knew
that he could knock out his attacker; he suffered but he wanted to test Clark,
to give him a chance.
“Clark” he mumbled as the man angry for the interruption clenched fiercely his
teeth in Bruce’s nipple. “This isn’t you…”
But the Man of Steel sniggered and smashed the buckle of Bruce’s belt realizing
that the task was oddly demanding as if his hands were no more than a strong
human’s hands. However the hardening of his length erased everything else from
his mind sending his weakened hands to unbutton Bruce’s jeans.
Bruce looked Superman’s head over his groin; he could break Superman’s head yet
he had to try something more. As the Man of Steel grabbed his zip, Bruce
sighed.
“Tony gave me a piece of Kryptonite” he uttered tired and Superman’s hands
stopped in their places cupping his pelvis. “He told me to take it to protect
myself from you…” Superman raised slowly his eyes to Bruce’s sparkling eyes. “I
refused” he continued calmly “saying to him that you would never harm me…” he
pinned Superman with his sharp, determined and a bit sad eyes “It seems that
I…” he smiled bitterly “was mistaken…”
Superman felt a really painful pang deep in his heart and rose slowly to look
the human in the eyes seeing clearly what he had done: he had stripped Bruce,
forced him to accept his kisses – Bruce’s right nipple had his teeth marks on
and drops of blood, he almost severed the tender flesh -, Bruce’s face was red
and bleeding.
No, the human being he was keeping crushed to the wall wasn’t a whore: he was a
kid brutally raped throughout his entire life; a miracle that managed to
survive through pain and humiliation to defeat and destroy his torturers.
Always holding his head high… And he had come in his own house to force this
dignified man to kneel, to shatter him… He heard again Bruce’s detached voice
narrating to Stark how he was violated so cruelly that he accepted to curse his
dead parents…And Clark’s heart broke again from the feelings that detached
voice had been struggling to hide.
Bruce saw Superman shutting his eyes distraught, his weak hands cupping gently
the human’s face that throbbed from his slaps. Superman opened his touched eyes
and sank in Bruce’s sapphire-emerald eyes which pulled him deeper in their
seas. He touched his forehead to Bruce’s.
“You don’t need any Kryptonite…Your eyes are the most powerful Kryptonites in
the whole universe…” he almost whispered.
Bruce sank his knee in the alien’s groin causing his surprised howl of pain. As
Clark’s body bent Bruce followed his fall, grabbed the Black Butterfly, punched
his aggressor’s jaw and tangled his legs around Superman’s slumping him on the
floor.
Clark was rasping, his chest heaving violently; he wasn’t used to pain. Okay,
General Zod caused him extreme pain during their battle yet Zod was another
Kryptonian not a human. And Bruce knew exactly where to hit to multiply the
pain and the incapacitating effect. The fall happened in an instant and Bruce’s
black diamond scrapped just a tiny bit Superman’s throbbing neck; now it
pressed his jugular. Superman, his mind clearing now, remembered his
unsuccessful confrontation with Ra’s Al Ghul and that Bruce was his best
student who eventually surpassed his teacher.
Bruce’s breath was even as during Superman’s molestation and his determined
eyes regarded Clark’s regretful stare.
“You have every right to kill me” the Man of Steel said the pain shedding light
to his fogged till now mind. “I…” he gulped “attacked you.”
Bruce’s eyes flashed but there was no hatred in them and Clark felt ashamed
because his stupid body was relishing on Bruce straddling him.
“The diamond can easily tear your flesh because you’re much weakened” Bruce
told him completely calm. “Your cells are degenerating for more than four
months.”
Clark frowned; the first time he saw Bruce was four months ago at Falcone’s
reception; and how can he be weakened without the presence of a Kryptonite?
Unless, Bruce was indeed… No, no… He sensed the younger man’s hesitation yet he
clenched his jaw that should be hurting from his slaps.
“Ra’s Al Ghul considered you his enemy in his dream to inflict his kind of
justice to the world. So he prepared your willing destruction… To this goal,
almost from the start he applied to me… to my body an oil-like substance; he
did that daily for twelve years.” He inhaled, Clark’s eyes prompting him to
continue. “That substance was absorbed in my cells to the point of changing
their normal functioning into now producing the substance themselves.”
Clark gaped.
“He mutated you?!” it was monstrous; unthinkable…
“Something like that…” he answered casually. “The substance…”
“Bruce!” it was Selina outside the door. “Bruce, are you alright?” her voice
was cracked with panic.
She had followed Luthor to make sure that he wasn’t up to anything and upon
returning saw the thick ice wall blocking Bruce’s window. It was easy to figure
out that Superman had attacked the Manor and held Bruce. She immediately
climbed to the window but it was impenetrable even with her diamond blades so
she came from the door with Alfred only to find the door locked by something
even she couldn’t break.
“I swear I’ll kill you if you hurt him, you alien freak!” she shouted through
gritted teeth.
“It’s alright, Selina” Bruce answered. “I’m fine; everything is fine.”
Selina’s threat wasn’t something to dismiss; Clark had seen the cat killing
Chill and knew how much the young woman loved her friend. And frankly she would
be right to kill him yet at the moment what Bruce was ready to tell him was
more important.
“Tell me about the substance” he asked quietly and Bruce nodded.
“The substance caused your attraction to me causing at the same time a strong
addiction into twisting your mind thinking that you…love me.”
“No…” Superman shook slightly his head in disbelief and the Black Butterfly
grazed his neck slightly before Bruce withdrew it a bit.
“It’s the truth. You always came back to me because you were addicted and being
away was agony for you. You were tuned to my vitals due to the addiction; you
were able to eavesdrop on me because your body was pulled to mine like a moth
to the flame. But every time you were close to me your powers were undermined,
the damage restored a bit when you were away but not fully leading eventually
to your complete incapacity.”
“This is why you tried so hard to kick me out? To make me hate you?”
Bruce nodded.
“The night the hired assassin shot you I extracted a Kryptonite bullet from
your wound. But what puzzled me was that you while blessed with super hearing
didn’t hear the bullet coming but I did. And then a flashback reminded me of
what Ra’s was doing back then and what he was saying about you and how he
planned to have me seduce you. Till that night I didn’t remember…” he said
regretful.
Clark narrowed his eyes.
“But at Dolcetto…”
Bruce nodded.
“The Kryptonite would have finished you off.”
“Yes, but you came and instead of making things worse you saved me” maybe Bruce
was wrong about that substance; he wished Bruce was wrong.
“It’s a complex thing: the next time the Kryptonite would have finished the job
sooner. The thing is that the substance’s effects are more detrimental combined
with the special Kryptonite you were shot.”
Superman lifted his eyebrows.
“You never let me see that Kryptonite…” he mumbled and saw Bruce closing his
eyes for a second.
“It doesn’t matter…” he had no intention saying to Clark that this rock was
drenched in his blood and was created by a demon as a reward to Al Ghul for
giving Bruce to him. “Lucius studied everything and along with Tony created a
vaccine for you to be immunized to me and a medicine to restore your damaged
powers since the sun alone isn’t enough.”
Clark’s eyes widened.
“Stark?” he uttered in disbelief; he detested the billionaire and Stark all
this time worked to save his life.
“He told you at Leslie’s clinic but the effect was already so strong that you
thought we wanted to poison you and left.”
“Bruce!”
The young man turned towards the door; nice… Tony was here too! Of course: he
must have been in constant connection with the Manor’s surveillance system.
“Tony, I’m fine; everything is under control.”
“If you don’t open this door” Tony shouted anxious and a bit out of breath “I’m
gonna blow it off and stick the Kryptonite to that freak’s fucking heart!”
“Master Anthony…” Bruce heard Alfred’s worried voice, trying to reason with the
young man.
“He’s right, Alfred!” Selina snapped. “Maybe he is forcing Bruce to reassure
us!”
Clark bit his lip; he couldn’t blame them for thinking like this.
“You won’t need the Kryptonite, Tony” Bruce’s poised voice rose to answer them.
“Give me a couple of minutes.”
Clark locked eyes with Bruce.
“I left the clinic because you…talked with Luthor in a manner…And I…I came here
because you agreed to date him…”
Bruce rolled his eyes.
“I need to investigate what he knows about that special Kryptonite and his
connections.”
Clark wasn’t stupid and though his penis still throbbed with desire touching
Bruce’s body now he could think.
“So you think that Luthor is behind the attempt against me yet he took the
Kryptonite from someone else. The League of Shadows, right? They gave that
Kryptonite to Luthor…” Bruce’s eyes were expressionless and though the human
was blocking Superman’s access to his brain Clark was sure that he was right.
“They know that this special Kryptonite has a special connection with you,
right?”
Bruce pressed his lips.
“As soon as you take the vaccine this won’t bother you again.”
Superman opened his mouth to argue but Bruce disappeared and unfortunately his
vision was indeed so weakened that he couldn’t discern clearly the blur which
in a second reached the jacket he had tossed to the floor and returned to
straddle him. Superman was faster than a train or a plane and he had heard
rumors about a meta who had super speed but catching a glimpse of Bruce’s speed
that was the result of hard training and skill was awesome.
Bruce was ready to inject the vaccine to Clark’s thigh; Lucius had made the
needle from diamond to pierce the alien’s flesh. Clark touched gently Bruce’s
hand to stop him without making him feel attacked.
“What will happen once inoculated?”
Bruce looked him deeply in the eyes and Clark saw the blood from the human’s
nostrils and lips slither slowly to his pulsing throat; Clark gulped nauseated
by his deeds but simultaneously aroused by the sight.
“The substance will stop affecting you.”
“Meaning?”
“Your cells’ degeneration every time you approach me will stop”
Then from now on I’ll be able to be close to you without getting illClark
thought relieved and thrilled: nothing would keep him away from Bruce from now
on.
However Bruce upon seeing Clark’s eyes shine hopeful guessed his thoughts and
hastened to add.
“You’ll wake up from your illusion of being in love with me” he said harshly
“you won’t be attracted to me anymore.”
Clark opened his mouth to disagree but Bruce stabbed his thigh with the
vaccine; Clark huffed shocked and repeated when Bruce stabbed him with the
second injection pen which had the other medicine.
Immediately, something like a warm refreshing wave surged his body and Clark
felt tranquil and stronger though the spots were Bruce hit him still ached.
Bruce looked at him expressionless.
“You’ll need some more doses of the medicine till your powers are fully
restored; Lucius will give them to you” he snapped and rose freeing him from
the pleasant prison of his strong thighs.
Clark could detect something in his Star’s voice…Something clenched his heart:
Bruce won’t be his Star anymore? He caught the human’s knowing stare.
“Everything was created by the substance…Now you’re free.”
No! Clark cried inside. It can’t be! All these feelings were…fake? No, he
couldn’t believe it…
“You’ll be free now to find your true Star…” Bruce gave him a half smile and
made to move towards the door.
“You can report me to the police: I attacked you, I hit you, I…almost raped
you…”
“It wasn’t your fault” he replied resolute. “I messed up; if I had told you
from the beginning you wouldn’t have reached that point” he averted his face
from him.
But Clark wasn’t so sure and he didn’t want Bruce to take the blame. He wanted
to tell him so but a loud bang destroyed the heavy oak door and Ironman with
Selina surged inside, Alfred on their heels.
They looked shocked at Bruce; his naked torso, the bruises and the blood on his
face were enough to explain what had happened.
“He took the vaccine and the medicine…” Bruce told them. “Everything is fine”
he cast an indifferent glance to the demolished door but didn’t say anything
just passed them.
“Master Bruce…” yet the young man didn’t show any indication of having heard
and kept walking.
“Bruce, wait!” Tony deactivated his face plate and hurried to follow him even
though Bruce didn’t stop; Alfred made a step intercepting Tony.
“I think you should give him some space, Master Anthony” he said calmly.
Tony stretched his hand pointing at Bruce’s departing form.
“The monster hit him, Alfred! Who knows what else he did to him! We must take
him to Leslie: if that alien caused him a brain injury I’ll blow him up with
Kryptonite missiles!”
“Please, Master Anthony…”
“Take that, you bastard!”
They turned to see Selina giving a round kick to Superman’s face who just
stood; she beamed gleefully as her stiletto heel scratched Superman’s face,
some drops of blood spurting but the flesh slowly reformed.
“Damn!” she shouted with narrowed eyes. “That’s unfair, you motherfucker!”
Superman sighed; though his body already manifested signs of recuperating, he
felt completely spent. He touched his cheek; the scar Selina made him was
superhumanly fading. He remembered how the blood was dripping Bruce’s porcelain
flesh, the bruises marring his skin; he lowered his eyes.
“You’re right, Selina; is unfair. But still you can use Kryptonite…”
“You bastard! You’re mocking us!” she fisted her hands and began a stampede of
skillful punches all over his torso that actually hurt. “How could you do that
to him?!” she remembered her stupidity to believe that Superman truly loved
Bruce and that he could make her friend at last happy; she was furious.
Superman couldn’t utter anything; he was guilty and with lowered head enjoyed
the pain till he could still feel it.
“This isn’t enough!” Tony said through gritted teeth and withdrew the patch of
wrist armor to reveal a glowing green rock. “He doesn’t feel the pain he caused
unless it’s Kryptonite!”
Yet Alfred touched softly the young man’s wrist.
“Put it back, Master Anthony” he said calm but determined and Tony frowned
angry yet obeyed.
Alfred walked towards Selina and held her hand before it contacted again with
Superman’s body.
“That’s enough, Miss Kyle” she looked at him puzzled yet let her hands fall
loosely to her sides.
Alfred yanked his head proudly confronting Superman.
“Some time ago you said to me that you would make Master Bruce laugh again”
Superman closed his eyes; it was when Bruce saved his life on that rooftop. “I
believed you…” he shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Alfred” Clark whispered.
Alfred inhaled and stretched his head.
“I think you should leave this Manor!”
Superman nodded and demolished the ice wall covering the window to take off
chased by what he said and did to Bruce…
 
Alfred had to exert his negotiation skills to persuade Bruce’s friends to not
rush to him; he knew that in their love and agony to care for him they would
make things worse. He knew his young master…well, not as much as he would like
due to Falcone’s cruelty to forbid him to look after the orphan yet he
understood Bruce’s need for space: he was used after all to handle everything,
his worst experiences - nightmares, alone though he loved his friends.
As the lift reached the cave he tightened his grip on the cardigan; he saw
Bruce in the working bench working fervently on his processor as if nothing had
happened. Actually, his naked torso was the only indicator of what Superman
did.
Alfred approached sensing his young master’s sideways glance. He wrapped
tenderly Bruce’s back with the cardigan.
“I’m fine, Alfred; in my cage at Dolcetto the cold was much worse.”
“That doesn’t mean that you should continue living in such conditions, sir.”
Bruce looked at him yet didn’t utter anything and resumed his work on the
strange text on the screen.
“Would you like me to tend your wounds, Master Bruce?” he shared Master
Anthony’s worry about a possible deterioration of Bruce’s head injury but he
was keeping his cool.
“They are superficial.”
Alfred pressed his lips.
“Maybe we should let Leslie decide that?”
Bruce didn’t turn from the screen.
“I’m not going to the clinic. I’m fine, Alfred; there’s no reason for you to
worry” his voice was completely indifferent as if nothing had happened and that
made Alfred’s heart ache. “I must work on these files and then I’ll go out.”
Alfred’s always collected eyes widened.
“Absolutely not, sir!” he exclaimed in a totally non-butler manner. “With a
healing concussion and some new blows on the head?! We had a deal, sir! You
need to rest, not exerting yourself!”
Alfred’s worry and affection radiated so much from his voice that Bruce even in
his detached state sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He looked his
butler.
“I’m not tired, Alfred; and there are very urgent matters which demand my
attention.”
“I doubt there are more urgent than your health, sir!”
“Gotham needs Batman.”
“Lucius used the holograms while you were at Leslie’s clinic; he can do it
again.”
“Holograms can’t be used for much; someone might suspect. And crime doesn’t
stop with holograms. Besides I’ve already talked to Lucius.”
“Sir, you’re still recovering from a mild head injury that was aggravated with
psychotropic drugs; you can’t risk going out there so soon and without due
examination of your new injuries.”
Bruce breathed slowly.
“Alfred, you know that I’m hardy” he smiled and shook his head “I can take a
lot…”
Alfred lowered his eyes slightly.
“There is no reason you should continue that way of life, Master Bruce. You
have already suffered enough.”
Bruce didn’t answer just returned to the strange characters of the text on the
screen.
“Do you care to share what happened with Superman?”
Bruce rolled his eyes and huffed; his hand stayed hovering above the keyboard.
Why Alfred wanted to take him back there? He had meditated to detach himself
from everything that had happened in the master bedroom, the emotions, the
thoughts. He preferred to just erase the whole matter and focus on his mission.
“Everything was my fault; what matters now is that the whole thing ended
without anyone getting hurt.”
“Master Anthony fixed temporarily the window and the door of the master bedroom
and tomorrow I’ll call a crew to restore them to their previous form.”
Bruce nodded, mumbling ‘nice’ and Alfred closed his eyes; he knew that his
young master was in much turmoil and wouldn’t talk to anyone.
“Would you like me to bring you a light supper?”
The youth didn’t change his posture.
“Thank you, Alfred” he replied “but I’m not hungry.”
Alfred was ready to retort that he hadn’t eaten anything the whole day apart
from some biscuits but he had the awareness that he was pushing Bruce’s limits.
So he didn’t say anything.
“As you wish, Master Bruce; I’ll be upstairs in case you change your mind or
need anything.”
He began his retreat to the lift, the cardigan over his young master’s back his
only comfort.
“Thank you for everything, Alfred; I appreciate it.”
Alfred turned his head to see Bruce staring at him smiling warmly; he couldn’t
do nothing else than reflect that smile and nod feeling Bruce’s eyes following
him till the lift.
 
Superman was seeing the peaceful farm approaching; the horizon was light blue
though the night had fallen but it was summer. He remembered his childhood when
he played till late night outside sucking smells, images and sounds…Until his
Ma came out and called for him…
He sighed; his Ma…A gravestone was smashing his chest: not only he hurt Bruce
but also betrayed his parents, his late father and his Ma who were so proud of
him. He knew that Martha would be heartbroken hearing but he couldn’t hide it
from her: she was his confessor, the only person he could confide what he did
to lessen somewhat the burden. He knew that giving your burden to your Ma was
cowardice and maybe he wouldn’t speak but he had to come here. He didn’t have
anywhere else to go…
After he left the Wayne Manor he went to the Fortress asking from Jor El to
exam him in scrutiny. He confirmed everything Bruce had told him and he was
very impressed from the effectiveness of the medicines the humans gave his son.
But he couldn’t stay at the Fortress; it was too cold, too accusing with the
replica of Bruce’s bedroom mercilessly reminding him of what madness he was
ready to commit; of how morally weak he was even under the effect of a
substance.
He floated over the wooden porch to remain unnoticed by Martha; now he was
there he didn’t want to see her because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to
look her in the eye and then he would have to tell everything. So he just sat
to the bottom step of the back stairs and hid his face in his palm.
“It wasn’t your fault”
Bruce’s resolute voice acquitted him once again; it was Bruce’s habit to
forgive people, to vindicate them and blame himself. The truth was that Clark
should have figured out that something was off when the first poisonous
thoughts invaded his mind…When he…
Oh, God! He ran his hands in his hair remembering his articles. He had perused
them from the crystal global information processor in the Fortress. Every
article was a huge success with millions of hits but at the same time was a new
betrayal to Bruce; he had stalked and eavesdropped on him shamelessly and
published almost everything he heard. People were talking about his definite
nod for this year’s Pulitzer for his video capturing Batman in action.
What have you done, Kent?! He could only imagine Bruce’s anger and distrust and
yet…the night of the reception in the Heaven he had defended him…He sighed; his
only console was that in his ecstasy at least he didn’t reveal Batman’s
identity… A shudder ran his spine only on the thought; it must have been a Hell
for his Star all this time to be in a constant worry that his biggest secret
could be disclosed to everyone …
“You’ll be free now to find your true Star…”
Bruce had smiled to him yet Clark had sensed the pain even if it was buried
very deep inside the younger man; heck! His body was still tuned to the
human’s…then…because as the hours passed Clark experienced a painful void like
something of himself had been ripped from him. Ugh! This…addiction as Bruce
characterized it and Jor El agreed was fading but he wasn’t sure if he wanted
to… On the other hand, if that had continued, he would surely have attempted
something horrible – of course Bruce and his friends were prepared for that but
then he might have harmed others in his rage or die eventually.
That dull pain he had sensed in Bruce…It must have been awful to him to know
that all this…’love’ was just a lie and given that Bruce didn’t remember Ra’s’
plan at first, the blow must have been even harder. To feel that someone after
eighteen years of continuously sexual abuse really loves you only to find out
that this was only the product of a chemical concoction. That was another cruel
torture from Al Ghul…
On the other hand, maybe Bruce preferred it that way; he was trying so hard
from the start to repel Clark’s love. Maybe Bruce was really better without
someone threatening him with his love; maybe Bruce was truly ruined for love
and it was better if he was left at peace.
He shook his head and clutched his forehead: you’re heartless! Bruce deserves
to be happy, deserves a second chance as he gave to so many people; as the
chance he gave to you…
His eidetic memory brought back Bruce’s injured pelvis; his spine and prostate.
Poor thing! He could only shiver imagining the treatment that caused that
damage…But no…Pity wasn’t for Bruce: he was the most resilient, the bravest,
the most admirable being he ever met and the most beautiful…
No, you must stop thinking like this…
He heard light steps approaching; he knew his Ma’s steps and despite his panic
he couldn’t just fly away now that she saw him. Besides he was so tired that
now he didn’t want to.
Martha sat at the step beside him and hugged his broad shoulders.
“Once again you wouldn’t have greeted your old Ma…”
He looked at her and her tired, wrinkled eyes that smiled on seeing him made
Clark gulp.
“This time it was for the best, Ma.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“The best not seeing my baby?”
He shook his head.
“I want you to be proud of me, Ma…”
“But I am, sweetheart; as your father was.”
Martha was confused and worried.
“I did something, Ma” he decided that she didn’t deserve to be lied.
“Tell me, honey.”
Clark closed his eyes.
“I…I attacked him, Ma…”he saw Martha’s eyes widen.
“Who?”
“Bruce. I…was furious, jealous and I…I hit him and almost raped him…”
Martha covered her mouth; Clark could say she was shocked.
“No, no” she shook her head “you could never do something like this.”
“I was under some effect: the people who kept Bruce captive all these years
wanted to destroy me and drenched his body with a substance that made me
addicted to him and at the same time eroded my powers and…morality.”
His mother nodded slowly.
“How you know about that?”
“Bruce suspected and asked from his best scientist and from his friend, Tony
Stark to test that effect and make for me the vaccine and the medicine to
restore my degenerated powers.”
Martha bit her lip; she was grateful to Bruce but still had many questions.
“He suspected when he saved your life, right?”
Clark saw the clever eyes of his mother shining; he nodded wishing she wouldn’t
ask more about that.
“And how is Bruce? I mean he just came out of hospital – I heard that he had a
concussion - if you attacked him…”
“Thankfully, I was weakened and Bruce was prepared…” Martha frowned. “He is a
very smart man: he talked me out of…” he couldn’t utter it and just blinked
uncomfortably. “He stopped me and explained to me. He vaccinated me and gave me
the first dosage of the medicine.”
Martha rubbed her son’s back.
“How are you feeling?”
“Physically?” he sighed. “Much better…I can realize the awfulness of my deeds
and how much damage I could have done.”
Clark raised his eyes to the stars that filled the summer sky with their
playful sparks; the breeze was so pleasantly warm… But this night he couldn’t
locate his lonely star…It was as if it hid from him; yet his natural aroma
reached his nostrils, enchanting like the midnight rain; enticing like cinnamon
and orange. He hugged his knees and dropped his head. The caring hand of his
mother in his hair was a huge comfort.
“They’re after you?” she asked gently and he turned his puzzled eyes.
“Who?”
“The Police, Ironman…I don’t know.”
Clark understood.
“No; actually, I asked Bruce to report me to the police; effect or no effect I
attacked him. But he said that it was his fault and left it that way.”
Martha shook her head.
“And you, son?”
Clark looked at his knees and sighed.
“I feel like the worst scum in the whole universe; I first thought of
surrendering myself to the police” he heard Martha’s sharp intake of air. “But
then I realized that this could only worsen things for Bruce: new details of
his captivity would reach the press and each of my enemies would attack him in
order to exploit my ‘weak spot’ on him. So I have to let remorse punish me…”
his eyes wandered again to the clear sky of Smallville.
Martha cupped her son’s sad face.
“Open your heart to me, honey.”
He closed his eyes.
“Are you ashamed of me, Ma?”
She caressed his hair keeping her kind eyes locked with his.
“I’d have been if you had done all these without being under that substance’s
influence and if you hadn’t been feeling guilty despite the fact that effect
changed your character. And I’m sure that Bruce want you to continue being your
usual kind, golden heart self and forget everything that happened. But I also
know that this would continue to hurt both of you…”
Clark sensed that his mother shared his pain and cared for Bruce. He kissed her
hand.
“You warned me, Ma; you told me to respect his wishes, to stay away from him
till he finds a solution. And you’re right: he was preparing my cure and his
friends told me but I was angry, I didn’t feel that I needed to be cured. I
forgot my promise to you; I forgot how much he suffered. I called him…”
Martha’s strong but moved eyes prompted him.
“What, sweetheart?”
He sighed and closed his eyes moving his head exasperated.
“A cheap whore…”
Martha gasped and closed her eyes yet she still brushed her son’s back.
“Oh, Clark…”
He jerked his head.
“It was like someone else was inside my head and fuelled my rage, obscuring my
reason and my morals. What I should do, Ma? Even if I’m not in love with him, I
care for Bruce; I want to be his friend…But now…”
Martha brought Clark’s head to her shoulder and caressed his cheek.
“Apologize, son. Talk to him. Honestly. And then give him space to breathe and
time to heal his wounds; respect his wishes whichever they are; even if he asks
you to never come near him again. Prove to him that everything that happened
today was the deeds of a stranger and that from now on he has nothing to fear
from you. Redeem yourself by doing what you love to do: helping other people.”
Clark knew that Bruce wasn’t afraid of him, in a physical matter; Bruce was an
incredibly trained warrior that could fight even Superman. Yet what Bruce could
be afraid of him was his feelings; because Clark’s claim that he loved him
might have stirred emotions in Bruce that hurt again his already wounded heart.
 
 
Batman’s cape was floating around him on the night air; Gotham’s summer wasn’t
like that of the other cities. Cold never abandoned the city’s nights even if
the days were mild; and the air blew chilly from the ocean.
He was watching the street from the sixtieth floor standing on the head of a
roaring stony demon that showed his teeth and tongue to the dark city. Batman
sniffed the air keeping his jaw clenched; it seemed like ages since he last saw
Gotham from high. He felt free; though the low throbbing of his head wanted to
remind him of Bruce’s concussion. However, his balance was so advanced that his
head injury didn’t affect at all his skills.
He had stopped two robberies, a rape and pimp from kidnapping a little girl. He
knew that both Ironman and Catwoman were trying to follow him discreetly; but
he evaded them and each time they found him he lost them again. They believed
that he needed protection even now that Bruce was safely stashed deep inside
him under Batman’s hard armor.
Moments like these when Batman gave him freedom and eradicated everything that
troubled Bruce he was considering the option of letting only the formidable
vigilante exist. But then he remembered that Bruce was the only thing that was
left from his parents; Thomas and Martha died so that their son lives… And
Alfred, Tony, Selina, Leslie, Lucius loved Bruce even though he was loaded with
horror, disgusting experiences and tormenting inner conflicts and nightmares.
He always admired Batman; many times gaping himself at the fact that little
abused Bruce was the person under Batman’s cowl. But ‘poor thing’ Bruce wasn’t
complete rubbish despite the fact he hated him most of the times – especially,
when the flashbacks returned steadily and constantly to rub in his face what he
truly was…
“A CHEAP WHORE!”
Yet he was healthy enough to admit to himself that ‘poor little Bruce’ was who
created Batman; the one who brought Batman to life; the one who had the inner
power to stand his ground against all these demons. So, sometimes, when he
revived the happiness in his friends’ eyes, when people like Billy told him
that their life became a bit better because he was there, then he was willing
to forgive himself and recognize that even a broken piece like Bruce was worthy
of being alive.
His zoom vision permitted him to locate his prey; he jumped to the void and
spread his wings to storm on the unsuspected man who just left the seedy strip
club that was located in Midtown. He drew his hands and grabbed him as a real
bat grabs its prey.
The man didn’t struggle and Batman let him stand having carried him to a
deserted alley.
“Wow!” the man said fixing his trademark hat and his sunglasses. “An’ just as I
was wonderin’ when ya gonna honor me!”
Batman greeted his teeth and grabbed the man from the lapels hoisting him a
couple of inches from the ground.
“Oi! Oi, man! I’ve heard ya’re easily pissed…”
“Talk!”
“I don’t know…” yet Batman tightened his grip and his lenses flashed oddly as
if they were real eyes.
“You’re Matches Malone” Batman growled. “You know everything about Gotham’s
mob!”
The man lolled slightly his head.
“Well, I’m flattered but lads exaggerate…Ow!” a punch in the guts was the
answer. “Really pissed…”
“Tell me everything about the meeting of the big three!”
Matches laughed sarcastic coughing when Batman tightened more his grip.
“Big three! Oh, man! They’re pathetic!”
“Where and when!”
The gangster rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Listen, mate; I’ll speak openly: ya’re not gonna kill me but if I snitch them
they’ll do. Get in my shoes…”
Batman elevated himself with Matches held by the lapels; the gangster goggled
distressed to the distancing cement; they stopped several feet above the ground
and Batman didn’t seem to care finding a firm spot. On the contrary, he
loosened his grip on Matches who held tightly Batman’s forearm.
“Ya wouldna…” Matches mumbled staring at the distance to the solid ground.
“Shit! Ya’re indeed flyin’! Shit! Listen; I hate heights. My heart already
races an’ I ain’t some youth. Take me down.”
Batman could sense his panic but instead of landing them to the street jumped
to the rooftop letting Matches who fixed his lapels and cast an appalled glance
to the void only to retreat hastily inner.
Batman stood in front of him.
“You’re a middle ranked gangster who enjoys the respect of everyone; you can
redeem yourself by giving me the bosses.”
“The bosses!” he huffed obviously relaxed by the firm ground under his feet.
“Nobody is boss; mob is nothing compared with what’s lurking the city.”
“What is lurking?” he stretched his impressive form.
Matches took out his pack of cigars and picked one.
“Do ya mind?” he asked and when Batman keep glaring but didn’t forbid him, he
lit. “I don’t know what but I know it’s nasty; yet ya already suspect, right?”
“Maroni, Chechen and Gambol: when and where?” he grabbed him again.
Matches cringed on the thought of being held above the void.
“Fine, fine! Tomorrow, ten o’ clock, at the restaurant of Gambol’s granny.”
Batman turned Matches, brought his wrists back and pulled out from his belt a
pair of handcuffs.
“Listen, buddy” the gangster chewed his cigar cool “if ya arrest me they’ll
figur’ out an’ cancel the meetin’. An’ they gonna kill me; which is a pity
‘cause I was gonna leave this shithole before the storm an’ start a new law
abidin’ life, ya know…”
“You’ll testify against them and Dent will put you in witness protection” he
closed the handcuffs.
“Yar word is contract but, man, somethin’s comin’ worse than Falconi or any
mobster…” His cigar fell from his lips as Batman smoothly pressed a spot at his
neck.
The vigilante pressed the wristwatch-phone: “meet me at the signal in ten
minutes” he uttered the text which was immediately sent to Jim and Harvey.
 
Jim was already waiting at the MCU’s rooftop looking at the sky for a huge bat
yet he jumped startled when a soft thud came from the opposite direction. He
looked blushed at Batman and the unconscious man at his feet.
“Matches Malone” Jim said approaching the man.
“The medium ranked gangster?” Harvey who just closed the door to the rooftop
offered and Batman nodded.
“He isn’t of top priority” Jim frowned.
“He gave me the time and place of the big meeting. They’ll meet tomorrow at the
restaurant of Gambol’s grandmother” Jim nodded “ten o’clock at the night.
Malone will testify against them if he goes under witness protection.”
Harvey clutched his waist and made a determined step.
“I can fix it right away; he’ll be far from Gotham before the morning.”
Batman nodded and opened one of his belt’s compartments to pull out two tiny
USB sticks.
“You’ll find all the evidence about Joker here: how he kidnapped the real Jack
Napier when he was in a rehabilitation clinic in Boston and switched places
with him faking his death.”
“Faking his death?” Jim raised an eyebrow.
“He was a chronic inpatient in Spaulding’s Rehabilitation Hospital in Boston.
Jack Napier was admitted there to rehab from alcohol; Joker approached him,
befriended him and when Napier was discharged Joker escaped faking his death
and kidnapped him. The Jack Napier who returned to LA was indeed Joker; he
killed many homeless people there as he had done in Boston before. His crimes
before Gotham are quite vague but perhaps we get help to identify his victims.”
He walked to the rooftop’s ledge and his allies followed him.
“Help?” Jim asked intrigued.
Batman cast a glance at Harvey’s frowned expression.
“You’ll have to wait. And be ready for a storm…”
“What storm?” Harvey asked.
“Is it Luthor?” Jim offered.
“You’ll soon know.”
He snapped and before their eyes he disappeared using his agility and speed to
reach as a blur the other end of the rooftop and while both men puzzled craned
their heads to find him, he jumped.
He knew what was this ominous Matches said. Even the most low- rank crooks
could smells that something was slowly casting its shadow over the city. The
League of Shadows was here and Luthor was working with them. The things he read
in the encrypted files were disturbing and he was just at the beginning. He had
to find Miranda Tate and Obadiah Stane’s part in this…
And the hole in his chest from the evening was still throbbing while he was
feeling the whole time two powerful eyes on him never missing any of his
movements; two eyes emanating strange aura of threat and…something else.
Sometimes like now he could hear the rasp of a breath and feel the hot air in
his ear as the yellow eyes filled his vision.
“I missed you, human child…Maybe I’m in your head…Maybe I’m one with you…”
He had to meditate again in midair and then inside the Tumbler to block the
strange presence who insisted on distracting him.
“The potion will wear off eventually and his passion will be insatiable.”
 
***** Chapter 52 *****
“Do you have the weapons ready?” Talia asked Bane sitting loosely behind her
desk.
Outside her office’s window the darkness was still solid; yet the leader of the
shadows wanted to settle things right away and have the imminent control of
every development.
Bane nodded.
“Luthor would never have given his company’s weapons to us.”
She smirked and knitted her fingers in front of her face.
“Of course…Luthor is cunning. So, we stole them from S.H.I.E.L.D.”
Bane’s eyes were gleeful.
“An organization like S.H.I.E.L.D. shouldn’t have trades with a scum like
Luthor.”
Talia purged her lips.
“S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to have access to every major player in the weaponry
industry; this enables them to gain some control analyzing the technology of
the weapons. Poor Luthor didn’t imagine that this safe sale would doom him.”
“He must have taken his precautions.”
Talia shrugged.
“Certainly but nobody will take him seriously.”
“Fury and the Avengers won’t be informed about the weapons? What about Stark?”
Talia tapped her fingers on the desk.
“I can’t see the reason why and I can’t see the reason why not? S.H.I.E.L.D. is
working in total secrecy yet Luthor is infamous for his schemes so who will
doubt that he plotted the stealing of his already sold weapons for some shady
business to have his traces covered; and who will believe that someone else did
it especially when he will be caught for other crimes along with his
collaborator Mr. Dagget.”
Bane uncrossed his bulging arms.
“Luthor informed us that his satellite caught Superman entering the Wayne Manor
while Bruce Wayne was there; he stayed there for approximately an hour and
left.”
Talia smiled and raised an eyebrow.
“So the Man of Steel fell head over heels in love…Right in time! After I grab
his mate he’ll desperately search for him and eventually he’ll found Bruce… and
his own death.”
Bane frowned.
“Do you think that the alien freak fucked him?”
Talia sneered; her eyes widened in pure amusement.
“Are you jealous, Bane?”
Bane’s eyes narrowed and though most of his face was covered his disgust was
evident.
“Of course not. Wayne is a slut: it’s more than expected that he’d let the
alien fuck him.”
She pushed her chair back and rose elegantly and emanating confident strength;
she approached her loyal warrior.
“I’m not so sure, my loyal friend. Bruce evokes infatuation and possessiveness”
her gaze at Bane was mocking “but he doesn’t like to be fucked; I saw him many
times during my father’s…use. For what I’m sure is that Superman gets deeper in
his obsession.”
“I brought Crane as you asked.”
She put her hands in the pockets of her pants.
“Bring him in.”
“You can still use Wayne to kill Superman and then take your vengeance for your
father executing him as well” he shook his head. “You don’t need Wayne alive.”
Talia stabbed him with her shining black eyes.
“Do your job, Bane!”
He bowed his head and left the room under Talia’s smirk. He returned with the
skinny doctor who glimmered from triumphant joy. Talia regarded him with a
lopsided glance; arrogance was something in abundance in him.
“Sit, Dr. Crane” she ordered flatly and Bane stood behind the chair Crane
chose. “Inform me about your work.”
Crane narrowed his eyes: why all crime lords and ladies believed that being
bossy and rude makes them seem stronger?
“I think that we were partners in this so giving orders doesn’t seem
appropriate to me.”
She smirked.
“Honestly, Dr. Crane, do you believe that this is my way of giving orders?” she
chuckled. “My dear Dr. Crane, I see you lack basic psychological knowledge
despite being a psychiatrist. For once, I don’t have to give an order to have
what I want…”
Crane fixed his glasses uncomfortably. He made some movements with his lips
before deciding to speak.
“I don’t like that you showed me your face…It makes me think that you will try
to kill me after the job ends to cover your tracks.”
Talia stopped leaning on the desk and stretched her impressive body. Her heavy
eyelashes brushed her cheekbones as she snorted.
“First” she said flatly “even if I hadn’t showed you my face still there would
have been nothing stopping me from killing you. Second I don’t want our
collaboration to end after this job” she lifted an eyebrow. “My father began
using your services and I have no intention to stop that. Unless” she jerked
her index finger warningly “you mess up with my property in which case, believe
me, you’ll beg me to kill you.”
Crane pothered from the young woman’s icy voice which was more threatening than
her words yet he kept his arrogant, self confident expression. Talia smirked.
“But I understand your uneasiness with people showing their faces” she
continued half amused and half chilly “perhaps it’d be easier if I hid my face
behind a scarecrow mask? Like you do?”
Crane paled and frowned.
“How do you know that?”
Talia lolled her head at the side and snorted.
“Come on, Doctor… You insult my intelligence and my patience. I asked you
something.”
Now, Crane smiled self confidently, his scientific genius giving him the push
to forget his insecurity.
“Everything is ready on my part; my work is a masterpiece.”
Talia rolled her eyes and sneered.
“How modest!”
Crane crossed his legs.
“A genius doesn’t have to be modest.”
“But he has to prove his sayings otherwise he’s nothing more than an arrogant
idiot.”
Crane flushed irritated yet the giant’s presence made him only shake his head.
“You’ll have a totally compliant slave after I finish with him; a tool
breathing, thinking and acting only for his mistress” he saw the woman’s eyes
shining eagerly. “I’m curious to see that…item that is so important for a woman
like you…” he felt the giant stirring annoyed and smirked.
“Curiosity is a bad thing, Doctor…”
He snorted.
“Curiosity is the moving force behind science.”
Talia squinted.
“And the most common reason to be murdered…” she uttered her reply completely
emotionless but Jonathan definitely preferred her sarcasm to that.
The skinny doctor pressed his lips, uncrossed his legs and made to rise.
“No problem, miss. I’ll give you my method and guidance and I’ll just retreat
to my lab awaiting your newest business proposition.”
Talia walked slowly to him and towered the slim man, her eyes icy.
“Oh, no, doctor… My most precious property will be under your handling and
responsibility till you show the results you boast about” Crane swallowed hard.
“Your curiosity will be satisfied” she tilted her head towards him “and I hope
for your shake that my wishes will be satisfied as well” she cocked an eyebrow.
Jonathan felt cold sweat all over his back yet he gave a flickering half smile.
“Of course…” he answered.
Talia gestured to Bane and he approached the doctor giving him the signal to
walk towards the door and to his room. As soon as she was left alone, Talia
jerked her head upwards and huffed: this lurking will be over soon. She took
the satellite phone and pressed only one button; she knew that he had been
informed about her previous call and that he’d be waiting for her new call. And
she was right.
“Master Ubu, I want you to come to Gotham.”
 
The Tumbler jumped through the waterfall that covered the entrance of the cave
and as soon as it parked, Batman came out and headed to the working bench. He
had work to do and the dull thumbing in his skull was just a white noise at the
background.
It was urgent to decipher these files; they were his asset against the League
and he had to move fast. So he didn’t even remove his cowl.
He had sorted the files in two screens: the one screen had files concerning the
League’s secret weaponry and the second the intriguing project ‘egis’.
Ra’s had consumed decades delving into ancient texts and legends managing to
find formulas and how to reconstruct weapons that people thought they were just
myths. But from what Bruce was reading they were very tangible…and creepy in
the wrong and perhaps even in the right hands. And the League was the worst
hands…
Thankfully, in these top secret files every location where the weapons were
stored was described. So they could destroy the League’s arsenal relatively
easy; not that there wouldn’t be battles yet they had the benefit of surprise.
Nobody in the League suspected that Bruce or anyone had copies of their secret
database. He just had to hurry to decipher everything and then give the
information to Tony and Lucius to find the way to destroy the weapons. Bruce
recognized that they would need a small army to do that and probably that army
would include Batman, the Avengers along with Ironman of course and …Superman.
Bruce clenched his jaw: he still couldn’t trust S.H.I.E.L.D. and even if he had
no intention of doubting the Avengers’ willingness to save the world from a
threat, S.H.I.E.L.D. was too obscure to trust. So they should manage to recruit
the Avengers without the S.H.I.E.L.D. Tony would play a crucial role to this.
As for Superman, he was sure that he would help and given the fact that his
powers soon would be fully restored his attribution would be another shock for
the League because though he still didn’t have solid proofs he was positive
that they and Luthor worked together. But who was the League’s new leader? Who
took over after Ra’s’ death? Bane? Somehow he doubted it…
But what troubled Bruce even more than these weapons was that ‘project egis’.
From what he had already deciphered the League was trying to recruit an army of
men and women with special skills and super powers, something like what
S.H.I.E.L.D was doing. It seemed that they had built an entire network to set
up this army and support its functioning: secret bases, headquarters, funding
and foundations influencing politics.
Bruce counted what kind of people with special skills could work for the League
and that this army would be a hard opponent for them – maybe if there was
information about these special people he could find their Achilles’ heel.
Neutralizing the League’s fine trained warriors was already difficult but these
warriors with special skills made things even harder. A thought crossed his
mind like a bullet: few days ago, someone tried to steal his medical files from
the clinic; maybe they planned to make him join their army. After all he had
been Ra’s Al Ghul’s student and he had defeated his mentor.
A shiver ran his spine; Lex Luthor, Obadiah Stane and that mysterious Miranda
Tate had the special Kryptonite and probably the knowledge of his connection
with the stone which implied the League’s hand in all this. So Miranda Tate was
the League-link to the party; she was behind the foundation that ensured
Dagget’s mines in Tanzania where the special Kryptonite was found. And Luthor
had made an alliance with Dagget and was encircling Bruce… He frowned; Ra’s at
the end figured out that he was Batman but had he informed anyone else in the
League? His successor? And if the new leader knew about him had told Luthor?
No; the League never shared their precious knowledge with outsiders.
Luthor’s nauseating smile flashed before his eyes and instantly the two yellow
eyes that haunted him. He closed his eyes behind the lenses.
“I’m the one who housed you for fourteen years; the one who gifted you the
headquarters of your war. YOUR world is MY REALM! You are MINE! I was given
your soul from your nine years!”
 Bruce pushed back the chair and stood startled; he walked to the arch of the
cave and rested his cowled forehead on the stone. He needed to feel the cold of
the stone yet he didn’t want to take off the cowl; he just needed to muffle the
drumming inside his skull.
“Hitting your head to the stone isn’t the appropriate way of fighting off a
headache.”
Bruce closed his eyes; Tony was here. And it looked like a migraine not a
headache but his friend didn’t have to know that. He turned to face him; unlike
himself Tony wore loose pants and a white T-shirt.
“I thought you were sleeping” Bruce told him and Tony snorted.
“Thought or hoped?” he replied smugly.
Bruce avoided to answer and moved to the bench. Tony followed tilting his head
and as Bruce sat and began working on the keyboard he crossed his arms rolling
his eyes.
“You’re unbelievable, Bruce!” he exclaimed.
“Tony, I have work to do…”
“Look at me, buddy” Tony squatted and stared persistently at Bruce who finally
stopped typing and turned to him. “You close 24 hours without sleep.”
“Actually, I slept the previous morning after we came to the Manor.”
“Wow!” Tony widened his eyes sarcastic. “You woke up 6 o’clock in the morning
and then you had another one hour nap before you spent a day running the city,
being attacked by a super-powered alien and then patrolling the city. So, you
overslept that’s the reason you can’t sleep!”he exclaimed in mocking
realization.
Batman returned to the screen yet Tony grabbed his shoulders and made him look
at him albeit with his lenses: Tony felt that sometimes Bruce was slipping;
that he was turned into stone and that made him mad not at Bruce or himself but
at the people who had done that to his friend.
“You decided to kill yourself?” he asked dead serious. “You’re recovering from
a concussion, do you remember?”
Tony saw Batman’s glare intensifying which was absurd since they were lenses –
damn it! – not real eyes.
“This entire talk of rest and sleep has become utterly mundane and useless”
Tony closed his eyes. “Actually, I’m tired of this matter again and again. Look
at me; do you think I’m vulnerable?”
“Is this why you haven’t taken off your armor? Is this why you don’t take off
the cowl to speak to me? To manifest that you don’t need care?”
Batman stood and Tony did the same.
“You don’t have to follow me around; Batman can’t be touched.”
Tony clenched his waist and lolled his head to the side.
“Can you take off the cowl? Or you want to show that I’m not talking to my
buddy?”
Batman’s lips were pressed. He hesitated for a moment and took off the cowl.
“I know I’m talking to my friend even when I look at Ironman’s lenses” he said
mildly.
Tony nodded and purged his lips.
“I’m a bit emotionally insecure when Batman is around; my irresistible charm
fails with flying rodents…” he replied smugly.
“What’s important is that I’m Batman and you don’t need to worry.”
“You don’t leave us another option, do you? That alien freak hit you again OVER
THE HEAD and not only don’t you go to Leslie but also refuse to have some
rest.”
This is what my headache needed! Bruce thought but didn’t show any signs of
pain.
“Actually, you need more rest than me, Tony” he answered completely poised.
“You work all day for my affairs and at the same time you ran around as Ironman
to protect me. You should be sleeping as Alfred I hope.”
Tony sighed and shook his head.
“What am I going to do with you? Yes, I persuaded Al to have some rest
promising that I’d put you to your bed and now you’re going to make me a liar!
And you say that I need rest while you deny it for yourself! For fuck’s sake,
Bruce! I wasn’t starved, tired out, beaten up and abused for eighteen years” he
saw Bruce frown yet couldn’t stop. “You need to counterbalance what you lost
all these years, little guy!”
Bruce’s hand moved on its own accord to his beating temple and he stopped it
but not before Tony noticed.
“It pains…” Tony whispered a knot forming in his throat. “Leslie said…”
Bruce’s eyes widened.
“You told Leslie what happened?!” he asked exasperated. “I won’t return to the
clinic!”
Tony raised his hands to his chest in a calming gesture.
“You don’t have to go back there; she knows you well so he told us to be alert
for any ominous signs.”
“You won’t see any” Batman snapped and turned.
Tony came closer.
“Because you’re hiding them!”
“Tony, I’m not a kid; I’m a man though” his voice became sarcastic “I’m fully
aware that my past isn’t exactly convincing.”
Tony cursed.
“Is that why you didn’t take off your armor?” he repeated. “You think that we
are protective because we doubt your strength? Because Batman is stronger than
Bruce?”
Bruce jerked his head upwards.
“Honestly, Tony, I don’t have time…”
“You didn’t want me to see the bruises on your face and the marks his fingers
left on your throat…But it was Bruce who defended himself bravely against a
powerful Kryptonian without any Kryptonite; you didn’t wear the cowl when you
confronted him.”
“I’m fully aware of that; Tony, I’m not a split personality.”
But Tony was looking him deeply in the eyes.
“For me, Bruce is stronger than Batman” he added softly. “Bruce is Batman’s arc
reactor” his voice was warm.
Bruce focused on the glowing circle on his friend’s chest and he closed his
eyes; inhaled rubbing the bridge of his nose. It was very touching and
encouraging to have Tony there. He knew that what he was saying was right:
Batman couldn’t exist without Bruce Wayne.
Tony grabbed his friend’s upper arms; his eyes shone determined.
“But this arc reactor needs care, little guy; you can’t neglect him!”
Bruce placed his gloved hands on Tony’s shoulders; he locked his gaze with his
friend’s warm gaze.
“I know, Tony; I know but I need to hurry up: Joker caused much delay to the
things I should have done and we don’t have the time. The League of Shadows has
many, powerful weapons in its possession: weapons that nobody believed real. I
must draw out of their files the coordinates of the weapons’ storages, the
people who guard them and the way to destroy them. And I must extract the
secrets of the ‘egis’ project.”
Tony nodded.
“You mentioned it before: have you found what is it about?”
Bruce ran his gloved hands through his hair.
“The League is planning to form an army of people with special skills and
powers and for that has created a web with foundations and secret bases.”
“Like S.H.I.E.L.D.”
“Exactly.”
Tony pouted.
“Then S.H.I.E.L.D. must be informed for the threat.”
Bruce shook his head and pressed his lips.
“I don’t trust S.H.I.E.L.D.” he said resolute.
“Yes, I know that. Yet we can put them against each other; S.H.I.E.L.D. has
already an army of special people” he raised his eyebrows suggestively and
gesture to his chest. “What better for crushing an army of villains in the
making?”
“I want you and the Avengers but without S.H.I.E.L.D.; it’s as obscure as the
League and I don’t want my knowledge shared with them.”
Tony scratched the back of his neck and half smiled.
“So you want me to use my beauty and irresistible charm to bring the Avengers
to the scheme but keeping Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. in the dark.”
Bruce lolled his head playfully.
“If it’s too difficult for a charmer like Tony Stark…”
“Drop it, kiddo; nothing is difficult for Tony Stark, the hunk” he cocked an
eyebrow and then sobered. “But you’ll go to sleep.”
“This is getting…”
“Necessary.”
Bruce gestured to the screens.
“I must end this job as soon as possible.”
“Then show me the way and I’ll do it for you!”
“I must do it myself” he answered determined.
Tony licked his lips and sighed.
“You doubt my intelligence?”
Bruce shook his head.
“Of course not; you’re way more intelligent than me: you finished Joker’s cell
in what? 24 hours?”
Tony protruded his lips and nodded.
“That’s true; tomorrow I’ll deliver it to Jim and I can do any other
developments after. But…”
“What I want to say is that it isn’t a matter of intelligence but of experience
with them, their late leader. I already adjusted the ‘Meta-Phrase 1.0’ to
decipher the files but I must supervise the process or else I could miss
something important, crucial to our counter attack.”
“Counter attack?” Tony cocked his eyebrows. “They’re ready to attack that’s the
reason they brought Luthor, Dagget and Stane on the scheme. And they target you
to lead their army…” his voice dropped.
Bruce inhaled.
“Probably just kill me to avenge their leader. However what’s important is that
they will endanger innocent people.”
“So…you want to exert yourself to decipher those files to save innocent people.
Yet can you tell me how you’ll help those people if you fall in a coma?”
Bruce sat on the stool.
“I’m fine, Tony.”
“After a good rest” Bruce glared at him. “Not many hours; 3 or 4, you’ll be
able to decipher the files faster than with an exhausted brain and we’ll have
better chances that you won’t collapse during the battle.”
Bruce lolled his head towards him and snorted.
“That won’t happen; I’m used to this life and worse.”
“I know and I admire you but you will do that favor to your buddy: I want to
sleep but if I’m thinking you working in the cave with a migraine” he looked
deeply into his friend’s eyes and saw that he had guessed right “I won’t be
able – and as you said, I need the rest. Also, you’ll save my life from Alfred
when he finds out that you didn’t get even one hour nap.”
“I’ve already found out, Master Anthony!” Alfred walked determined towards them
and Tony gulped.
“Fuck!”
“What’s your mouth, Master Anthony! Look at me, Master Bruce!”
Bruce closed his eyes and left the screen to face his butler who was impeccably
dressed as ever but with tired eyes.
“You haven’t slept at all…” Bruce sighed.
“How could I while you were out there with a recovering head injury and your
bedroom door didn’t open at all?”
Bruce realized that nobody was going to get his rest if he continued working
and that made him feel bad. He had tired them too much already. And Tony was
right; maybe he would work better after some rest that could make the pain and
the thoughts go. After all, those two won’t leave and let him do his work.
“Fine” he snapped and his hand flew over the keyboard giving orders to the
‘Meta-Phrase’ application.
He stood.
“You won, gentlemen.”
“Yes!” Tony exclaimed and Bruce smiled but Alfred scorned at Tony and
immediately took action.
“Took off that armor of yours, Master Bruce” he said and hurried to help his
young master while Tony brought his gym pants and T-shirt.
Bruce sighed; so much love and care made him feel uncomfortable; sometimes it
seemed preposterous to be the receiver of such affection. It made him stiffen,
feel as a piece of ice in a warm sea. He felt the urge to tell them to stop but
decided against it; after all, they were happy for being able to show him their
love and he was too, however…
Tony looked at the working bench interested; he took the Black Butterfly and
showed it to Bruce.
“You must be more careful with your gems…” he threw it and Bruce caught it in
midair.
He had taken it there after the encounter with Superman; he forgot that he had
it in his hand and just dropped it on the bench.
“Thanks, Tony.”
It seemed awkward to him to be escorted to the master bedroom; thankfully, Tony
sure that he couldn’t escape Alfred bid them goodnight and slipped into his
room. Bruce made a quick shower and put on his pajamas while Alfred brought him
a glass of milk and some crepes.
He sat by the big round table and ate his crepes under Alfred’s calm and
satisfied stare. Bruce was under the impression that his butler counted his
every bite.
“I won’t take sedatives, Alfred” he said when Alfred took the small vial ready
to open it.
Alfred’s hand hovered over the tray.
“I’m fully aware of your distaste for any drug, sir yet Leslie prescribed those
drops to make sure that you’ll get the rest you need” he looked him pointed
“without nightmares and flashbacks; Leslie reassured me that they won’t
influence your cognitive functions.”
Bruce had read the leaflet but still he didn’t want to take it. So he grabbed
the milk and downed it under Alfred’s astonished gaze.
“Until now you and Tony pestered me that I’m too tired; so I don’t need
chemicals to sleep.”
“As you wish, sir” Alfred replied poised and placed the vial back.
Bruce walked to the bed and lolled his head towards Alfred who had brought the
medical kit from the bathroom.
“You’ll tuck me in bed?” he asked teasingly.
“I think that these wounds should be tended.”
Bruce shook his head smiling.
“The…wounds are not even wounds; I know how to protect myself from heavy damage
so…It’s time you get some rest, will you?”
Alfred didn’t like it yet nodded.
“I will, sir; do you need anything else?”
“No, thanks.”
He waited till Alfred returned the medical kit to the bathroom, took the
cutlery and left the room carrying the tray. He sat on the mattress brushing
the Black Butterfly that lay on the nightstand peaceful and enchanting. He
settled himself on the soft mattress, closed the table lamp and tucked himself
with the blankets. His body at first protested on the much needed comfort but
then relaxed enjoying the feeling of the fine fabrics. Bruce closed his eyes
and sleep immediately took over his exhausted brain.
Even though he was deep in sleep he had been taught to still maintain some
awareness so when he felt an ethereal crawling on his bed and the blankets
uncovering his body his muscles tensed yet instantly his wrists were pinned on
both sides of his head. He opened his eyes and his field was occupied by two
yellow eyes that made him jerk without managing to free himself since he was
straddled and his legs were snared by what felt like two giant snakes but in
fact were legs; it was like his legs were chained.
“Who are you?”
“You know…”
The suave, metallic voice filled his skull and his wrists were squeezed to bone
breaking point. Bruce tried to move his body and the weight on him crashed him
to the bed.
“You can’t fight me…”
Bruce complied; sometimes it was better to make your opponent think that he can
get what he wants and when he lets down his defenses attack him. Yet the force
on him was unyielding and the fingers smashing his wrists didn’t stop even when
his pajama shirt opened and the fabric fell on the mattress revealing his
torso.
The familiar face was over his, smiling slyly yet Bruce didn’t show any fear.
“You won’t yell because you don’t want them come and be in danger…and because
your body remembers and desires…” he hissed.
Bruce gritted his teeth and jerked upwards but the creature pinned him again.
“I don’t desire you!”he said in his head knowing that the creature would hear
him.
“You will…”
A tongue unbelievably thick and big but so familiar licked Bruce’s cheek and he
closed his eyes submerging his head to the pillow.
“Your aroma…”
The creature’s nuzzle explored the length of his exposed torso, burning him
with the steam his nostrils emanated; the demon was grunting in delight while
Bruce struggled to not panic and control his racing heart. Bruce’s legs though
wrapped in the demon’s column-like legs convulsed as Bruce felt the creature’s
monstrous length hardening on his pelvis.
“You can contain me, Bruce”the demon’s eyes were locked with his despite the
fact that at the same time an unseen mouth savored his nipples. “You always
did…”
Although his breath began getting mad as two separate tongues licked
simultaneously his face and his pectorals Bruce was thinking hard how to escape
such a creature which lowered his pants and underwear and spread his legs using
his own. Two hot mouths descended to his groin sucking simultaneously his penis
and his navel as if trying to milk him.
He was drenched in sweat though his body was icy cold from disgust and terror;
he won’t allow to be used again! Yet the demon still held his wrists and his
legs open; his rock hard thick length already touching his exposed opening.
“Keep the Black Butterfly close”He recalled Cassandra’s urge; but he didn’t
turn his head towards the nightstand to not cause the demon’s attention. Only
if he managed to free his hand…
The demon was growling, his arousal unbearable and Bruce sensed a second pair
of hands grabbing possessively his breasts grazing the flesh in their greed to
take everything this body could offer.
Bruce calmed his racing heart which was incredibly difficult with a penis the
size of a baseball bat poking at his anus. He had to make the demon’s need to
touch greater so that he released his wrists. He began rubbing his groin to the
creature’s mouth slowly and softly as Ra’s had taught him and then demandingly
making the demon bite his penis; then he moaned arching his torso as much as
the mass over him allowed pretending to enjoy the being’s ministrations. To his
shock a gigantic tail wrapped his waist bringing him to glue on the creature’s
sweaty torso. However his wrists instead of being freed were turned to his back
kept immobile as if handcuffed.
The yellow eyes were on his shining eyes while the mouths and the hands
continued their painful ministrations. The demon was panting, his penis still
pushing for entrance and Bruce let his eyelids cover seductively his eyes,
breathing and moaning. A bright smile lighted the darkness and Bruce felt a
hand caressing his sweaty cheek and one wrist free.
“I knew you would remember, Lilith; where’s your mark, little bat?”
“I don’t have a mark…”
He answered faking deep desire as his hand calmly, slowly reached the
nightstand and grabbed the black gem; his thighs were unbearably stretched to
open more his anus and the demon jerked a bit to have a better angle to push
inside.
“You do have, human child; I’ll find it…”
But suddenly the demon’s satisfied smile evaporated and his eyes lost their
confidence for a shocked expression. Bruce clenched the black diamond in his
palm and inhaled letting the mystic aura of the gem flood his body. He felt his
legs slowly getting free from the chains and then the monstrous length
disappearing along with the weight that was crashing him to the mattress.
Like a little child he hastened to open the table lamp to make sure that he was
alone though his senses reassured him already. Nobody was in the room so he
inhaled deeply closing his eyes; the emotions which until now he managed to
muffle threatened to take over and for an instance he let them. He looked the
sedative Leslie had prescribed and felt the whim to take one or two drops yet
he decided against because he wanted to be in vigilance…just in case.
He let his body lay on the mattress, closed the light and placed the Black
Butterfly on his heart: the Goddess’ sacred symbol and a powerful protecting
charm, indeed. He closed his eyes, let his mind fill with peaceful images –
which he always had trouble to find -, and sounds and began inhaling deeply and
exhaling slowly.
His body was so tired that it didn’t take a lot to fall asleep again; the black
diamond radiating an odd but so soothing sense of security.
The sun was setting and the sky had gotten a red golden color; he could see the
Wayne Estate underneath. He knew he was flying but not on his own. Superman was
holding him in bridal style and he was asleep, secure in the hands of the Man
of Steel. His body was exhausted and he was aware that just an hour ago he had
spilt his guts in front of the court about the years Falcone kept him prisoner
and then he had fought Ra’s Al Ghul in an alley managing to kill him to save
his life.
It was so nice sleeping after all these…in the arms of someone who loves you,
in the majestic beauty of the sunset…
“It’s beautiful only because I see it in your eyes...” Clark whispered with his
warm, kind voice.
“You’re the purest man in the world...”
A faint smile caressed Bruce’s relaxed face but suddenly he felt pinned to
something hard and his upper arms were squeezed.
“Because I fell for you? Because finally I realized that you’re not the
special, precious being I thought you were? You think I wanted to fell for a
CHEAP WHORE?!”
Superman let his upper arms and grabbed his throat to have his other hand free
to brush Bruce’s brunette locks that had fallen to his forehead.
“I know it’s not your fault” the hero almost whispered, his lips grazing
Bruce’s cheek. “You were raised to be a whore; you grew up as a whore so even
now you act like one. As soon as Luthor showed you your paycheck and promised
you more money, you forgot who he is; how he insulted you; your parents’
decency. And you bent over for him.”
 “Dagget was right” Superman hissed and Bruce frowned. “All these years you
gave yourself free of charge, so now for one million dollars you’ll make Luthor
taste Heaven. BUT I WON’T LET YOU!” he shouted at Bruce’s defiant eyes. “I
won’t let Luthor have what’s mine!”
Bruce lolled slightly his head.
“You sound like them and you are not… You’re not bad, Clark” Bruce said still
calm though Superman’s demanding groin throbbed on his pelvis sending a wave of
old horror to his body that he forced himself to ignore.
Superman’s eyes shimmered evilly; their crystal blue lost giving its place to a
burning red. He chuckled.
“And that lie is the reason you rejected me, huh, human? Because you’re a whore
and you’re trained to open your legs and your asshole only to those who have
the power to bend you, or the money to buy you! At first I believed that all
you needed was kindness and patience…” he closed his eyes. “But no…The only
thing you need is to feel that the other has the money and the power” his teeth
were rattling from malice and grudge. “Well, little slut; I have both!!”
His groin pushed violently Bruce’s pelvis and the younger man blinked; for a
second the claws of his past almost gripping his heart. Superman caught the
reaction and gave an evil smirk.
“What is it, whore? Is it too big for you?” he cackled. “I doubt it!”
Bruce jolted on the mattress clutching the black gem; his chest was heaving and
bile had blocked his throat. He breathed deeply; the first pale light of the
dawn pierced the curtains into the room.
He jumped from the bed leaving the gem on the mattress and ran to the bathroom
hardly making it to the toilet before throwing up. For a few minutes his body
forced him to stay bent emptying his stomach’s few contents. He flushed and
then he stood though his diaphragm ached from the jerks; he shuffled to the
basin rubbing his eyes and opened the faucet. He rinsed his mouth and brushed
his teeth, avoiding his reflection on the mirror. In his haste, he didn’t put
on his slippers yet the granite tiles offered him a sweet coldness that soothed
him.
He did a quick shower in the hydromassage cabin and shaved shuddering because
he didn’t like his reflection he had to tolerate while shaving.
He put on the bathrobe, collected his discarded pajamas and shuffled to the
bedroom, his stomach still painfully clenched and nauseated. The grandfather
clock on the fireplace read 5 in the morning; time for work. Rest wasn’t so
beneficial after all.
He opened his walk-in closet and once again felt overwhelmed from the elegant,
expensive, beautiful suits; even the jeans were too… He couldn’t find the right
word yet he couldn’t stand it anymore; all these were fakes. They weren’t for
Bruce.
A fire roared in his chest and began throwing the clothes to the floor,
gritting his teeth and grunting though he had the impression that his grunts
sounded like sobs; yet everything else was blurred except than the
extraordinarily beautiful clothes and his rage…or it was sadness, bitterness,
despair? A fancy dressed whore; Bruce never wore such clothes…his clothes were
always rags, torn, weathered, filthy and bloodstained as their owner.
All of a sudden, two gently hands grabbed his shoulders taking him out of his
reverie. Startled Bruce saw Alfred’s kind eyes which weren’t poised as usual.
“Master Bruce, Master Bruce! Please!”
Bruce realized that he was holding the last suit of his closet; he looked at
the dispersed clothes.
“These aren’t for me” he said calmly.
Alfred breathed a bit easier and Bruce wondered how much time the older man had
been speaking to him.
“These suits were handmade for you, sir” he answered softly yet Bruce cringed
at the ‘handmade’.
He shook his head in denial.
“They’re too expensive for me; they’re too beautiful; they…they…make me look…”
he stopped abruptly seeing Alfred’s sad eyes.
“What do they make you look, sir?”
Bruce lowered his eyes; he didn’t want to make Alfred sad yet he wanted to say
it.
“Attractive…” he said the least from what he had in mind.
Alfred pressed his lips.
“You’re physically blessed, sir; I doubt that the clothes have anything to do
with it.”
“Physically blessed?”Bruce snapped stressing the blessed. “A fancy dressed
whore in exhibition!” he snapped and saw Alfred gasp.
“Don’t talk like that about yourself, Master Bruce! That’s not true!”
Bruce gritted his teeth; a deep wound in his chest stung angrily.
“My whole life I give my body free of charge! There’s no day in the last
eighteen years that I wasn’t fucked by at least two people! Joker was right…”
he laughed bitterly. “Even now people look at me and see someone who exists to
be fucked” he shook his head with his jaw clenched. “A cheap whore.”
Alfred couldn’t hear his young master speaking like this; he sensed that many
things happened that Bruce didn’t tell to anyone, things that wounded him
although the young man wouldn’t admit. It wasn’t in the definition of the
butler yet Alfred cupped Bruce’s face and he stared at him puzzled and touched.
“You’re not, Master Bruce; those people were forcing you, it wasn’t your
choice: you were just a defenseless, captive child.”
Bruce jerked his head yet Alfred tightened his caring grip.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Master Bruce; what happened? Does your head ache?”
Alfred’s pain and agony spurted without his volition.
Bruce narrowed his eyes; tears were ready to flaw and he didn’t want to; he
didn’t want to make Alfred sadder, he wanted to make him angry with him, to be
indifferent.
“Stop caring, Alfred!” he snapped and stormed to the bed where he had left his
gym pants and T-shirt and dressed as quickly as possible.
Alfred remained in his position not angry as his master wanted but very
worried; Bruce was again in pain and kept many things buried to not ‘bother’
his loved ones. Alfred was once again in the awful situation where he didn’t
know what to do in order to not deteriorate the youth’s state.
Bruce stood and avoided looking again at his butler because it was unbearable
to see Alfred indecisive and sad under his collected eyes. He stormed out of
the bedroom and towards the passage to the cave.
“Bruce?”
He halted recognizing Pepper’s voice and turned towards her forcing a smile to
his face.
“Good morning, Pepper; I see you’re the morning type.”
Pepper walked to him reflecting his smile.
“Thanks to your buddy” she winked and gave him a peck to the cheek. “Being his
personal assistant and baby sitter is a very demanding job.”
“Especially when you have also your boss’ friend’s Enterprises to care for…”
Pepper sobered.
“Please, Bruce…”
Bruce pressed his lips.
“I want to thank you for everything: me and Tony chasing criminals, Lucius with
Superman’s vaccine and you alone fighting with all this mess. You’re a great
girl, Pepper!”
Pepper lolled slightly her head to the side.
“This coming from you is the greatest compliment. I only did what I could to
assist the battle against the bad guys since this is my only area of
expertise.”
Bruce chuckled.
“But you, Mr. Wayne, shouldn’t be in your bed?” she asked teasingly furrowing
her brows.
“I had all the rest I needed, Pepper.”
“I hope so, Bruce. Will you come to have breakfast with me?”
“It’s tempting but I’m not hungry and I have many things waiting for me” he
smiled. “I’m sure you understand.”
Pepper touched his upper arm and Bruce looked at her.
“Can you do me a small favor, Bruce?”
“Of course.”
“Take care of yourself; do not neglect your needs. All of us love you; you’re
not alone anymore.”
Bruce blinked and pressed his lips.
“Thank you, Pepper; don’t worry about me” he caressed her upper arm and smiled.
“Have a great day!”
“You too, Bruce.”
As the lift descended to the cave something gripped Bruce’s guts; it was the
first time he felt insecure for going to the cave.
“Your world is my realm”
He had left the Black Butterfly in the bedroom and for an instant he thought
going back and taking it with him. Yet he couldn’t let the fear capture him; he
wasn’t the injured 8 year old who just saw his parents die. He clenched his jaw
and stepped out of the lift to trot to the working bench.
The two screens which were showing the process of the deciphering had the same
message; the process was completed. Now Bruce had to cross the files for any
error or omissions. Yet his mind was preoccupied with last night’s incident. He
was aware that if he didn’t solve first that then he wouldn’t be able to focus
on the other work.
He sat and opened the program he created which could search simultaneously at
every library or database of the world (even those that didn’t give access to
any outsider) and typed ‘Lilith’; it was how the creature had called him.
Bruce rubbed his chin waiting for all results to show. He leaned more towards
the screen: interesting enough most texts came from libraries of the east and
occult groups.
Lilith was an ancient female demon who ruled the night: raven haired and
sapphire eyed she was as beautiful as the stars and as alluring as the moon.
She was the mate of the demon who ruled the underground; the male demon who
could harness the earth and its contents. He was the king of all the demons and
his name was Bagdana. The coupling of those two was so intense that created
mountains and new gems with Bagdana’s strength and Lilith’s beauty.
There were some ancient sketches of the demon found in ancient scrolls: square
face covered with facial hair, two small ivory horns at his temples and short
silver spikes instead of hair, yellow eyes with red slits as pupils, no nose
but only fuming nostrils, rich lips; his body could take the glow and color of
every gem since all of them was his or could be transparent or graphite like.
He was a shape shifter transforming his body and growing limbs as he wished.
Bruce pressed his lips; the sketches showed exactly his attacker. He continued
reading.
When humans began dwelling the earth Lilith took special interest in them; she
confused and seduced male humans into satisfy her and then die. Bagdana was
jealous but he was appeased from the fact that his mate was only playing and
always returned to him. And then Lilith was infatuated by a human and abandoned
her nature and Bagdana to live with the human and give him offspring.
Bagdana was furious: he unleashed his powers against the humans making
mountains to fall and volcanoes to explode destroying their villages and
killing thousands. However it was the era of the second generation of gods who
found the chance to wage their war against Bagdana the current ruler of the
world. Zeus and his brothers and sisters defeated him and his minion demons and
exiled Bagdana to the Tartarus.
But humans suspected that their ordeals were due to the presence of a demon
among them. A group of men discovered Lilith and beheaded her. Bagdana sensed
it and surfaced to kill the men who slaughtered his beloved and took her body
with him to the underground. However as the demon was caring Lilith’s dead body
she became stardust and returned to her beloved night sky.
Bruce shook his head; so the demon which Ra’s summoned and still haunted him
was Bagdana and he thought that Bruce was his dead mate? What the heck? He
frowned and scrolled down the results.
According to some legends, Bagdana searches for his lost mate throughout the
time copulating with humans in order to find his Lilith among them. He is the
legendary Incubus who is believed to visit women and men to have sex with them.
He knows that Lilith gave birth to human children and he longs to find the one
of her descendants with the mark of his beloved.
Bruce halted abruptly; the mark.
“…where’s your mark, little bat?”
“I don’t have a mark…”
 “You do have, human child; I’ll find it…”
His heart gave an impatient kick and began beating fast. He typed ‘Lilith mark’
and waited. The results weren’t much and he read all of them.
It seemed that Lilith had a mark on her that her descendants could have; one of
the results which came from the database of an occult group with a history of
generations spoke about a leaf.
Bruce didn’t have a leaf-like mark anywhere on his body so there wasn’t a
chance that he was…But how Ra’s believed that Bruce could be one of Lilith’s
descendants and summoned the demon? He tapped his finger on his lips.
He typed ‘Lilith human mate’ and pressed ‘enter’. Now the results were a lot
and agreed on the human’s name: Cain. The first murderer and founder of many
cities; he had many descendants and his name changed through the ages because
his descendants tried to hide from demon hunters, the Inquisition and those who
wanted to use them to gain the legendary riches Bagdana would offer to the one
bringing him the incarnation of his lost mate.
Cain…Maybe this was the reason Ra’s took interest in him from the first place?
His mentor had told him that he was watching him long before Falcone killed his
parents; once, Ra’s said that he regretted not taking him as soon as he was
born… So Al Ghul suspected some connection; his mother’s family name was Kane
which was different and similar to Cain. Yet how could the leader of the
Shadows be sure that Martha Kane was indeed one of the descendants and that her
son would be what Bagdana looked for?
Bruce pressed his lips and perused again the results; it was obvious that the
libraries and the files couldn’t give him more information. He purged his lips:
perhaps only his mother could have done that but she was dead and even if she
was still alive Bruce doubted that she knew anything about that – besides,
Martha was an angel and didn’t remind the female demon not only in her life but
also in her appearance. Martha was blond while Lilith as the legends said had
raven hair.
He sighed and stood. He began pacing deep in thought raising his gaze to the
sleeping bats. Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind; maybe his mother could
still answer his questions… Alfred had saved some of his parents’ personal
items and had given them to him: he had seen his mother’s diary there.
He had the box in the cave because he considered it the safest place. He ran to
the secret niche inside the cave wall and took the box. He opened it and his
eyes softened staring his parents’ things which he still remembered though he
had forgotten other things: his father’s stethoscope, his mother’s jewel case,
old pictures, some heirlooms, Martha’s diary…
Bruce caressed the book which was bound with brown leather and had engraved
with white italics her name: Martha Kane Wayne. It felt like blasphemy reading
his mother’s secrets but he knew that Martha would have approved if that could
help him. What he saw at the first page startled him and made his spine froze.
His mother had sketched a leaf exactly like the one which they said Lilith
carried on her body. He closed his eyes; so Martha knew… Or not… Turning the
next page he found a photo of himself as a baby: what caught his stare
immediately was a birthmark on his left big toe; it was a leaf exactly as
Lilith’s legendary mark and the sketch on the first page. And then he
remembered what his mind had buried: Chill chopping slowly his toe with the
birthmark to send it to his parents.
So he indeed had the mark… He should have felt something yet he didn’t; there
was a void inside him. Ra’s must have seen his mark and given that he was
fascinated by the ancient myths and legends, his mentor immediately made the
connection…
He pressed his lips: he didn’t believe in myths, he didn’t believe in destiny
but it seemed that he was ambushed by coincidences. He was sure that the leaf
and his mother’s name similarity with Cain’s were random and he hated that
random facts had defined his life… But how could the demon been fooled?
He was ready to start reading when he heard the lift; someone was coming. He
hurried to hide the items and vocally ordered the processor to save the results
and close the window; he didn’t want anyone to see. The last he needed was his
friends learning that an ancient demon chases him…Even the thought was
ridiculous! He sat on the stool.
Alfred came out of the lift carrying a tray with breakfast; Bruce didn’t turn
yet with the corner of his eye could discern under the affectionate man’s
poised face his sadness. Bruce felt awfully yet his goal was to make Alfred so
mad at him that he would stop caring.
His butler placed the tray on the bench near him; Bruce pretended to read the
text on the screen.
“Pardon me for the interruption, sir, but you haven’t eaten anything and that’s
simply unacceptable.”
Bruce lolled his head towards him frustrated yet Alfred didn’t flinch; on the
contrary, he set his jaw.
“I’m sorry, Master Bruce but this time I can’t grant your wish and stop caring”
he said dignified. “You can fire me for my disobedience but still I’m afraid
that I wouldn’t be able to change my stance. It just surpasses my skills to
forget the hurt child who turned his desperate eyes to me for protection and
help and I couldn’t offer him anything…”
Bruce shook his head.
“It’s not your fault, Alfred” he sighed. “You couldn’t have done anything.”
“If that’s so, sir, then now that I can, you might want to allow me do what I
couldn’t then.”
Bruce rubbed his forehead.
“It’ll be so much easier for you if you just stopped…”
Alfred jerked his head proud.
“I beg your pardon, sir but the easiest thing for me is caring for you; and the
most natural. Please, Master Bruce, eat your breakfast and then we can go to
the stores and buy the clothes you like.” He smiled. “It was arrogant of me to
choose your clothes for you and I apologize” he made an elegant bow.
Bruce closed his eyes; he felt his breathe hardening.
“You’re not arrogant, Alfred; far from it. And the clothes are splendid,
perfect but…”
“They don’t suit you. We’ll buy some new exactly as you like them.”
The warmth in the man’s voice was breaking Bruce’s heart. He stood and made
some steps away from the man he loved so much.
“We won’t find the clothes that suit me…” he sighed and Alfred approached. “For
nearly ten years I wore rags; torn, filthy rags: everything else seems strange
to me. The contents of my closet are beautiful but…”
Alfred nodded calmly.
“You feel that because those barbarians had you dressed in rags as no human
being must be dressed you must continue wore that kind of clothes? Do you
believe that you must keep their choices for you?”
Bruce shook his head and ran his hands through his locks.
“No, it’s not that…”
Alfred pressed his lips.
“If I may, sir; I think that there are other things that torment you including
the post concussion syndrome, if I say it right. You can talk to me, Master
Bruce: I know I’m not your father and I’d never dare to compare myself with him
but” he sighed “you can confide in me, sir, or to Master Anthony. Just don’t
keep the burden for yourself. Please.”
Bruce looked at him and pressed his lips.
“You’re very important to me, Alfred; you are…” he turned his gaze to the cave
to avoid Alfred’s kind eyes “you are the closest I have to…the closest” he
couldn’t utter the words yet the butler understood; his boy considered him the
closest to a father.
He patted the youth on the shoulder.
“I understand, Master Bruce.”
Bruce lowered his gaze.
“I trust you and Tony yet you have suffered enough for my sake.”
“Forgive me, sir but this is preposterous. Sharing your burden with us is more
soothing for us than being in constant agony not having any clue about what is
going on; and knowing what’s bothering you will enable us to try to assist you.
So speaking to us doesn’t make us suffer.”
Bruce just shook his head: he realized that that was true but he knew that the
more details they learnt about his life the more they felt guilty, even
responsible for not saving him and he wanted to stop that. So he just sat at
the chair and began eating his breakfast to give Alfred at least this small
satisfaction.
Alfred knew that his young master had many, unknown things in his mind;
probably, awful things that he didn’t dare letting his mind imagine. And on the
other hand the youth was neglecting his condition not eating well, not sleeping
enough, exerting himself; those outbursts were results of the concussion and he
was afraid that might indicate a worsening. Yet Bruce eating his breakfast was
touching because he knew that his boy tried to make him feel better.
“I’m sorry, Alfred.”
Alfred was startled.
“For what, sir?”
Bruce licked his lips.
“I yelled at you; I said awful things. And you always do the best for me and it
was shitty” he bit his lip for the word “I mean despicable to speak to you like
this.”
Alfred shook his head.
“Don’t mention it, sir; I can only imagine how difficult is for you with all
these things messing with your head. Actually, Master Bruce – I might sound
like a masochist” he gave a court chuckle “but I’m proud you took out some of
the tension on me because you were a bit relieved and…people show their
emotions only to those they feel close to them.”
Bruce just couldn’t bite the last of his toast: a hard knot had formed in his
throat. Alfred loved him so much yet he couldn’t just tell him that a demon
stalks him and last night attacked him at his own bed.
“I’m fine, Alfred; don’t worry about me” he tried to reassure him.
Alfred smiled and Bruce knew that this smile was mischievous.
“Well, sir, Leslie will tell us that.”
“I’m not going to the clinic!”
He heard the lift coming to the cave and rolled his eyes to Alfred.
“You called Leslie?!”
“Hardly, Master Bruce; she came on her own. She must have heard Batman’s last
night feats.”
Bruce grunted but the lift halted with a smooth sound and Leslie came out
carrying her medical briefcase and another odd looking case.
“Leslie…” Bruce started.
“I know… ‘good morning’. I see you eat your breakfast, nice; yet your eyes look
really tired so I guess you didn’t sleep as much as you should.”
Bruce rolled his eyes.
“I had enough sleep.”
“I doubt it concerning Batman’s activity last night…”
She took her examination flashlight and grabbed Bruce’s jaw to examine his
pupils.
“Stop making my life difficult, young man” she exasperated when Bruce moved his
head to avoid the examination. “I know you hate clinics and doctors so I came
here.”
“Leslie, please” Bruce snapped feeling his heart beating fast and stood. “I’m
fine; I’m not a frail kid: why you don’t want to understand it? I’m tough; I
don’t break!”
Leslie crossed her arms and looked him in the eye.
“The toughest young man I ever met yet this doesn’t mean that we should let you
erode your durability or worsen…” she looked him pointedly and Bruce opened his
mouth to stop her from uttering anything about his spine injury. “I’m just
going to scan your stubborn head.”
Yet Alfred frowned.
“You can’t do that without proper equipment” Bruce protested.
She chuckled.
“You’re busted, kid!” she showed him the odd case. “Portable MRI courtesy of
Lucius Fox.”
"You're kidding me!"
Alfred smiled seeing his young master shaking his head defeated. Bruce realized
that the only way to read his mother’s diary was letting Leslie examine him.
So, surrendered himself to the caring doctor.
Fortunately, the MRI didn’t show anything worrisome so Leslie changed his gauze
cleaning carefully his neglected wound grouching about his stubbornness and
then examined the bruises from Superman’s slaps.
“You could have put some ice at least!” she sighed and shook her head. “Good
thing he was weakened.”
“I know how to take a blow without being seriously injured.”               
“I’m sure” she answered “but still I feel lucky.”
Leslie repeated her instructions and left with Alfred berating Bruce even when
the lift began ascending.
Bruce loved both of them yet this time felt relieved from their departure.
Finally he could read his mother’s diary.
 
 
***** Chapter 53 *****
Clark was fixing the fence around the farm; his Ma had temporarily connected
the broken boards but it wouldn’t held in a storm.
He was up too early and that was a very good sign; he didn’t feel that erosive
exhaustion anymore and his body was again recharging fast. Now that Bruce gave
him the first dose of the medicine he realized how badly he was functioning all
this time. It was like till now he lived in a bad dream…
Well, not exactly bad… It had something that made it look like heaven: Bruce.
His love for the human made him feel happy and whole…when his jealousy and
possessiveness didn’t take over.
Actually, it wasn’t just the lack of exhaustion and his Kryptonian physiology
that made him got up before the dawn. And even now working the wood of the
fence and sucking the stimuli of the countryside with his super senses, the
same thoughts still lingered.
He just couldn’t take Bruce out of his mind: his beauty, his pride, his
decency, his courage, his well hidden bitterness. He craved to see him again,
to hear his voice, even his strong heartbeat; many times while in bed he was
tempted to overhear Bruce, just a minute. Yet he decided against it; he
shouldn’t elapse in this again, he should prove that he was better than this.
“You’re not bad, Clark…You’re not yourself.”
He wanted to be worthy of Bruce’s trust. His…friend’s (?) sparkling eyes filled
his mind: the most powerful Kryptonites in the whole universe, indeed. His
heart beat faster even in the memory of those eyes or Bruce’s enchanting aroma
when he had him pinned on the wall.
Clark held the hammer midair and sighed looking the golden sunrise. Bruce would
have said that all these were results of the addiction that substance caused
and that Clark’s feelings weren’t true. He gritted his teeth: Bruce would never
believe that someone can love him truly.
But how can all these be only an addiction? After all, he wasn’t human; the
Kryptonian physiology was different so maybe he couldn’t be addicted like
humans. He bit his lips; surely, that monster Al Ghul made certain that this
substance would cause addiction to him the same way as to a human.
He must see Bruce again to…to speak to him…to persuade him that… What? He shook
his head. That he truly loved him? Just a few hours ago he punched him not
caring about his injured head, tried to rape him; he called him a cheap whore.
How could he now tell Bruce that his feelings were true? He hit the hammer to
the fence post and the log shattered.
“Is this your idea of repairing the fence?” he heard his Ma’s amused voice.
He turned to her blushed and Martha smiled.
“Good morning, Ma!”
“Good morning, sweetheart. Time for breakfast.”
Nice. Though he could last days and days without food and water, when concerned
his Ma’s food he was greedier than most humans. And speaking with his Ma was
balm for his agony.
“Wash your hands, young man.”
He felt as when he was a kid; those intoxicating smells from fresh baked
cookies and pancakes made him wanting to sit and begin gulping immediately and
slip the hands washing. After all, he couldn’t be infected by anything… But it
was Martha’s rituals and her rituals were nonnegotiable.
Martha was serving the last plate of pancakes when Clark entered the kitchen;
she had cooked much food because her son…well…not only had super powers but
also super needs and super appetite.
“Yummy!” Clark licked his lips and pulled close the pancakes and the homemade
strawberry jam.
“I guess all this time you were under that…effect you didn’t eat normally”
Martha said taking her seat and sipping her milk.
Clark began answering while still chewing and the result made Martha chuckle.
“Swallow your food first…”
She was feeling bad for what Clark had done and grateful that at least he
didn’t harm Bruce lethally. Yet she was also relieved that everything was back
to normal now, thanks to that mysterious young man again; she wanted to thank
him personally but she sensed that it was better if she didn’t intervene. Like
a mother, her instincts told her that Clark was in a perplexed state concerning
Bruce.
“Well, if someone saw me eating like this wouldn’t say that this is normal…” he
chuckled and Martha smiled.
“You need to recover your strength, boy.”
Clark looked at her.
“I’m already much better, Ma; the medicine Bruce gave me makes wonders!”
She nodded.
“Bruce told you that you’ll need some more dosages, right?”
Clark drank his milk: fresh milked cow’s milk. Heaven! Like when he was a
child.
“I’ll go to Lucius Fox…”
Martha discerned some hesitation and some other things.
“But?” she prompted.
Clark pressed his lips.
“I want to see Bruce, speak to him.”
Martha nodded.
“But you’re afraid that he might not want to see you?”
He sighed.
“He wasn’t angry at me; he insisted taking the blame. Yet I don’t know if it’s
prudent or considerate from my part to force my presence to him. I don’t want
to make him feel under pressure again…”
Martha cocked an eyebrow.
“From what you told me, that young man is a really tough nut” she smiled “I
don’t think that even you can force something to him.”
Clark chuckled.
“Absolutely!”
“Then I don’t think that he will talk to you if he isn’t ready yet; so let him
decide. If he doesn’t want to talk to you, you’ll leave and give him his space
and time. If he wants, well…” she clapped her hands “you’d have the chance to
be your adorable true self.”
Clark savored the thirteenth pancake; he blushed.
“Ma, you’re exaggerating…”
She shrugged.
“Well, I am your Ma…And I don’t exaggerate: everyone in this planet agrees that
you’re adorable.”
Clark scratched his head.
“Except Bruce and his people…”
Martha stood and walked to her son; she kissed him on the cheek.
“I think that Bruce loves you… like a friend” she hastily added to her son’s
hopeful eyes. “As for his people, you must try get in their shoes; anyone would
feel cautious with someone who attacked their already traumatized loved one.
But they can change their opinion about you.”
Clark kissed her.
“Ma, I’ll return to Metropolis…” he said regretfully; he knew how lonely his Ma
was after his father’s death.
But she smiled and caressed his hair.
“I know, honey; but what matters is your happiness.”
Clark took her wrinkled hand in his and kissed it.
“I’m happy here, Ma.”
“Yeah, but your life is out there; I just hope that you will keep coming to
your old Ma…”
Clark heard the waves of sadness in her voice and pressed his lips.
“You’re not old, Ma.”
Martha lolled her head.
“Flatterer!”
 
                                                                  March 22 1989
“You’re going to scrub it out…” Thomas told me teasingly; he laughed seeing me
kissing baby Bruce’s tiny big toe. But I just can’t resist kissing that cute
little leaf there.
My baby giggles so beautifully every time…
“He likes it” I retorted and gestured to Bruce’s beaming face as I put the
petite sock to his foot.
Bruce is only one month old and already has become the center of our life; not
that this is new or original: for every couple a baby is a treasure.
Especially, when you tried for years to have a child without succeeding.
“And that tiny birthmark is so cute!” Thomas chuckled and I narrowed my eyes at
him. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it…”
The baby stretched his tiny fingers to Thomas and he kissed them causing new
giggles. And this time I laughed too.
“Tough guy!” I sneered at the smartass and tapped softly Bruce’s dot of a nose;
he blinked and gave me a toothless big smile so I took him from the cradle and
held him in my lap. “We’re a great team, sweetie!”
Thomas pouted and hugged me kissing the baby’s brunette locks which are so soft
like the finest silk.
“Me? Tough guy? I’m a sucker for both of you!”
I gave him a smile from those he can’t resist and little Bruce stared at me and
mimicked. Oh! You’re a clever little baby, aren’t you?
“Every baby is beautiful but mine has something special…”
Thomas rolled his eyes and showed his index finger to the baby. Bruce grabbed
it.
“Of course, babe: you’re his mommy!” the smartass teased me again and I placed
Bruce carefully to his cradle.
The little charmer stretched his tiny arms to make me hug him again; his eyes
glimmered.
“Your daddy is afraid that I’m going to spoil you…” I kissed his nose softly.
Bruce giggled again and Thomas came by my side looking at our baby mesmerized.
“Have you heard anything more beautiful?” he almost whispered.
“You’re his daddy, honey!” I snapped and cocked an eyebrow satisfied for
getting the chance to return what he told me.
He shook his head realizing the tease.
“We’re hopeless, aren’t we?” he sighed. “We are going to make him the most
spoiled brat in the world and we’re going to enjoy it…”
Bruce purred and Thomas laughed.
“You agree, huh?”
“No, he won’t be spoiled; he’ll be the best kid: he’ll love and help everyone.
He’s like an angel…”
Thomas kissed me in the lips.
“An angel, truly. Like his mother…”
I stopped deepening the kiss.
“Maybe we shouldn’t in front of him…” I whispered but my voice was seductive.
Thomas wrapped my waist and stared at me with half closed eyes.
“Well, actually there’s a whole dispute about the matter…”
I laughed and nibbled his lower lip.
“Not in front of my little angel…”
Bruce giggled and I tickled his little belly.
“You’re right, Thomas; when he giggles I feel like all the ugliness of the
world is lifted and the sun shines and when he cries is like knives rip my
insides. I promise you, little one, your mommy will always do everything for
you to be happy and laugh carefree…”
“Don’t shut me out!” Thomas bent over to caress with his fingertip Bruce’s
cheek.
I pouted and clenched my waist.
“You told us that we’re going to be spoiled brats!” I mock accused him with a
glare and he snorted.
“I just want to protect you…” he protested weakly.
I know, honey…
 
                                                                   June 30 1989
Bruce cries all day…He is in pain and looks at me desperately begging me to
help him, to stop it. It’s not the first day…
He is four months old yet his growth stopped abruptly; his urine has blood and
he has a little fever that doesn’t subside whatever we do.
And he is in pain…NO BABY SHOULD BE IN PAIN!
He cries and I cry too…Thomas tried to take me away from my baby in order to
calm me down: I slapped him! Nobody will take me away from my angel…My
suffering angel.
Thomas took blood and analyzed it but he didn’t find any virus or infection.
The poor baby drinks my milk, sleeps a bit and then wakes abruptly crying. I
hug him and rock him gently but I can’t stop his pain. I’m going crazy…I stay
all day sat by his cot or wander aimlessly for hours in the Manor: I even chew
my nails and I never in my life did that…
Alfred is sad too; he does his routine chores but he isn’t himself; I can tell.
Sometimes when I return to Bruce’s room I find the kind man over the baby’s
cradle speaking to him soothingly.
I’m losing my angel; he has lost weight and he is pale. And he cries and casts
his beautiful innocent eyes on me asking me why I don’t stop it and just watch
him suffer…
I won’t let you die, little angel; you’ll be alright…I promise.
Oh! I’m cursed! After all these years I delivered a baby and now it’s taken
from me.
Thomas hugs me and reassures me that Bruce won’t die; he won’t permit it. Yet
we both know that although a doctor he can’t do miracles.
 
                                                                    July 2 1989
Leslie, Thomas and Bruce’s pediatrician agreed to take the baby to the clinic
and do thorough exams on him.
Leslie told me something about the baby being allergic to my milk!
“How can a baby be allergic to his mother’s milk?” I asked her.
She told me that it’s a possibility they want to test…
 
                                                                    July 9 1989
Bruce is a week now at the clinic; they put him through tests using sharp
needles and he is so tiny…and so brave…But I’m scared that they would wound my
baby and make him worse.
I never leave the clinic; even now I’m writing sitting on the uncomfortable
chairs of the waiting room. I have a feeling that if I go even for a half an
hour my baby will be lost… Alfred tells me to return at the Manor to have some
rest and he will stay with Bruce; poor Alfred is heartbroken from our
suffering: he loves so much little Bruce. I thank him but I refuse and run to
the room they have my baby. They don’t let anyone near him except doctors and I
envy Thomas because he can see him.
I’m able to see him through the window; the baby angel sleeps peacefully. Maybe
it was my milk after all; I pray this is the cause so that my baby lives…
His eyelids are like velvet and his eyelashes like silk; his tiny lips open and
close ethereally: may his dreams be happy! He opens his eyes and my heart is
clenched; maybe he is in pain – don’t, please! He turns slowly his head and
stares at me behind the glass and…he smiles! I wave to him with tears flooding
my cheeks.
I’m here, Bruce; mommy will never leave you…Now sleep, little angel; you’ll be
alright and soon mommy will hug you again. As if he understood, he closes his
eyes and immediately falls asleep. My baby is tired but he is so strong!
Stronger than me…
Sleep, little angel; mommy is here to watch over you…
 
                                                                   July 10 1989
I saw Leslie, Thomas and Sam, Bruce’s pediatrician, going to Thomas’ office;
I’m certain that they figured out something and they left me out of it! I’m not
gonna stand this! I have every right to know the truth about my baby! Thomas,
you’ll pay for this…
I surge inside the office – fortunately, isn’t locked because I was going to
break the door!
They look me shocked and I glare at them infuriated.
“I’m the mother! I have every right to know!” but some traitorous tears flow.
Thomas hurries to me and hugs me while the other two lower their eyes.
“We’re going to tell you everything, honey” Thomas reassures me but I shake my
head.
“I don’t believe you, Mr. Wayne! What did you find?”
Leslie comes to me as well; her eyes are warm.
“Bruce will be okay, Martha.”
I feel relief but the agony of all these days doesn’t let me breathe easier. I
don’t understand.
“You found what caused all these? Is it curable?” I ask keeping my voice calm
but demanding.
Sam approaches too.
“It was indeed your milk, Martha” he says and I frown. “Bruce developed
intolerance to your milk so whenever he was breastfed his vulnerable organism
got ill.”
I rub my forehead: if it’s just that, I’m happy yet I still don’t understand
how that happened.
“How can a baby be intolerant to his mother’s milk?”
“It is rare, honey, but can happen” Thomas offers.
Okay, fine, but…
“Four months he didn’t manifest any signs.”
Thomas nods and the others do the same.
“Bruce is a rare case of what we call a Chimera” Sam says poised looking me in
the eyes.
“Chimera is a human who has two different sets of DNA in his body” Leslie adds.
I have read about this…
“I was carrying twins and the one died? Because I read that Chimeras are the
result of such cases.”
Thomas brushes my upper arms.
“No, Martha; Bruce was the only fetus.”
I narrow my eyes and Thomas looks at me almost scared.
“Then?”
Thomas shakes his head.
“We can’t explain it and frankly we know very few things about this. The fact
is that Bruce carries two different DNAs: one close to yours and one close to
mine…” he sighs. “It seems that the second DNA – the one close to mine – came
to the fore and created that intolerance.”
I cock an eyebrow and cross my arms.
“Your DNA doesn’t tolerate mine?” I ask almost laughing.
Thomas kisses me.
“My DNA worships you but this isn’t exactly my DNA and the other DNA isn’t
exactly yours.”
I look at the other two.
“This sounds like an autoimmune disease; my baby is going to suffer his entire
life?”
Thomas shakes his head in denial and looks relieved.
“Nothing indicates that: the two DNAs are not hostile to each other... let's
say that they ignore each other; it was just your milk. However we’ll be
alert.”
He makes to hug me but I evade him.
“I want to see my baby” I declare to all of them clenching my jaw; my milk
poisoned my little one it’s the thought that haunts my mind.
Sam nods.
“Of course, Martha; there’s no reason to keep you apart anymore. Bruce can
return home even tomorrow.”
I nod.
“He’ll need medicines?”
“No; only artificial breast milk. And of course we’ll watch him as he grows up
and his nutritional needs change.”
Thomas takes my hand.
“I’ll take you to him” he smiles and I grab his hand.
We find Bruce awake writhing inside the hospital cot. His eyes shine
recognizing us.
I finally can take him in my arms and I can’t believe it. All these days I
thought that I was going to lose him. I touch him to my chest, for him to hear
my heartbeat after so many days and I see his tiny mouth searching for my
breast. I caress his soft head.
“No, Bruce; mommy’s milk is bad for you. But mommy will take care of it.”
Leslie enters the room and gives me a bottle with milk, smiling at the smiling
boy.
I help Bruce find the artificial nipple and he sucks. He doesn’t like it much –
he prefers his mommy’s milk – yet he must get used to it – and it’s better than
the horrible IV they had to his tiny arm. I hope this is the only unpleasant
thing he’ll have to endure.
He was so hungry; he eats under everyone’s relieved eyes – Sam has come too –
and his velvet eyelids begin to lower. My angel is so tired… and feels safe now
that he saw his mommy again.
I begin rocking him gently and Thomas motions the other two to leave the room.
It’s personal. I sing his most beloved lullaby and a sweet little smile
caresses his pale face. He falls asleep calm.
I place him gently to the cold hospital cot promising him that tomorrow he’ll
return to his cradle in the Manor. I kiss his forehead and he purrs. Thomas
bends over only when I stood; he kisses our baby and I see tears in his eyes.
He was scared too all these days.
I hug him and I kiss his lips. I was harsh on him… I was looking him as another
doctor and not Bruce’s father.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart; I was so mean to you…”
But he only tightens his embrace and kisses me.
“Just forget it, Martha; I know how much you suffered and I know you never
stopped loving me. But now everything is over: Bruce is alright, and we can
continue our life peacefully.”
 
                                                                     May 5 1993
I’m writing sat in the wooden bench under the Fallen Angel of Saint Mary’s Park
– Bruce’s favorite place. I’m staring at my little angel playing with the
pigeons and I smile all the time.
Four years have passed from Bruce’s illness and still I find myself watching
the kid as if I doubt my luck to have him here with me; I still tremble that
something is going to snatch my boy from me.
He is so happy that makes me cry; his body grows a bit slowly due to that
illness but Sam, Leslie and Thomas reassure me that he’ll regain the lost
development.
Where is he?
                                                                     May 5 1993
I had the scare of my life today at the park: one moment I was seeing Bruce
playing with the pigeons and the other he was nowhere to be seen. He later told
me that he saw a kitten and ran after it to play…Kids!
I anxiously ran the park and Alfred covered the other half; Gotham is a very
dangerous city for kids and adults equally and Bruce is the son of the richest
family in the city. I was panicked and the guilt was ripping my guts; I didn’t
watch Bruce as I should…
Finally, I heard his sweet voice; it was behind a fence made of white roses.
Bruce was talking with a man who was squatted in front of him; the man was
looking at my boy almost fascinated…and I don’t like it, I don’t like it at
all: Bruce is a very beautiful kid and our world is filled with perverts.
The man turned his head towards me before I revealed myself; he smiled but his
smile was cold and his grey eyes mocking. He reminds me of a lion.
“Your mother is here, Bruce” he said and rose.
He was like a tower and had something of an intimidating aura but I didn’t
care; I surged to the scene and stretched my hand towards Bruce.
“Bruce, come here, sweetie…”
The man smiled seeing the boy hurrying to nestle his tiny hand in mine; I think
that Bruce felt my upset.
“You have a great kid, Ms. Wayne” his voice was accented and bordering between
sincerity and mocking; his eyebrow cocked.
I yanked my head and stared at him proudly, the warm hand of Bruce giving me
more power.
“Well, thank you, sir but we must leave now.”
Alfred came exactly at this moment and we went immediately to the car; I felt
the man’s eagle eyes following me and Bruce and I took Bruce in my arms like an
infant wanting to cover him from this man’s evil aura.
 
                                                                     May 8 1993
I’m so upset, so angry, so desperate!
Last night I found the man from the park inside Bruce’s room!
I always go to Bruce’s room several times during the night to check on him; I
was doing that when he was a newborn and after his illness, I never stopped – I
have always the fear that he might get ill again. That Chimera situation is
odd…
Anyway, I walked in his room and I saw shocked a form bending above the fast
asleep boy; under the dim light of the night lamp I recognized the lion-like
man from the park.
I ran to the corridor where in a secret niche in the wall Thomas has stashed a
gun; he hates violence and guns but when you’re rich, with many enemies in the
city’s underworld and you have a little child you must take precautions. I
tightened my grip on the metallic object and I returned to Bruce’s room.
The lion-like man was still there staring at the door even before I entered; I
realized that he knew I saw him but didn’t retreat. He is a dangerous man, I
know.
He smiled smugly.
“I’m glad you decided to join us, Ms. Wayne.”
I purged my lips in disgust and pointed the gun at him – Thomas was at the
clinic doing his shift and I had no time to wake up Alfred – if that man didn’t
harm the loyal man and our security guards. How could he enter the house
otherwise?
“Move away from Bruce or I shoot!” my voice was icy and demanding as I never
imagined it can be; like it was another woman’s voice, a stranger’s. And the
gun doesn’t feel disgusting as I always thought, rather pleasant as if I was
destined to carry a gun.
I saw my eyes’ sharp glow in the man’s grey eyes and actually that was a great
surprise; my eyes never had such quality.
“You’d shoot me over your little angel’s sleeping form?” he said sarcastic.
“It’d be such a trauma for him…But the gun feels really nice in your hand, Ms.
Wayne, right?” he squinted. “How odd a philanthropist like you to hold so
steady a killing tool!” he said it in a way that showed he wasn’t at all
surprised.
“I’ll risk it in order to save Bruce from your presence!” though I was deeply
upset and ready to snap, my attitude was so cool that really I don’t understand
how.
The lion-like man shook his head smiling and turned to Bruce who still slept; I
saw his gaze roaming the boy’s body to end up to his big toe that somehow had
slipped the blanket. It’s the toe with the birthmark.
“Deep inside, Ms. Wayne, I’m sure you know that you can’t keep that child for
yourself” he looked me in the eyes but I narrowed my eyes and tightened my grip
on the gun.
“Go now or I’ll shoot!”
He nodded and smiled.
“No need, Martha; let us not disturb Bruce’s peaceful sleep” he smirked and his
hand hovered above my boy’s silken locks. “Sleep well, child” he whispered so
softly that I felt nauseated; he raised his eyes to me and smiled with his
irritating way. “Till next time…”
In a blink he was at the window no more than a blur and then out.
I turned on the lights and I ran to Bruce’s bed; I wanted to hug him and
squeeze him in my chest to make sure that he was still here but I just brushed
his locks and his rosy cheeks. I didn’t want to wake him and frighten him… No
child should feel threatened.
Alfred came in clearly worried and after seeing the gun still clenched in my
hand realized; he is a very intelligent man and felt too that the man in the
park was a threat.
He asked me if I wanted to call the police or Thomas; I refused. Somehow I
don’t think that police, the corrupt police of Gotham can or wants to help us
and better not cause early panic to Thomas. Then Alfred suggested I went to
sleep and let him watch over Bruce; I thanked him but again refused: there’s no
way I’ll leave Bruce even for a moment, because the next moment maybe I won’t
see him again.
Alfred understood; he just took the gun from me; tightened his grip on the
metal and stood outside guard.
That horrible man wants to take Bruce from me but I won’t let him…
I’m writing this in Bruce’s room waiting Thomas to return; thankfully, my boy
is still asleep.
Thomas’ car…
 
                                                                    May 10 1993
I told everything to Thomas and he was shaken; he asked the guards and nobody
noticed anything. So he is also sure that this man is quite dangerous and wants
to take Bruce from us.
What are we going to do? I swear I’ll kill that monster if I see him again near
my baby – I don’t like the way he looks at him.
Thomas has an idea. The last days he was thinking to go to Greece as a member
of a large humanitarian group to help the people of a city called Marathon that
was hit by a disastrous earthquake. He was thinking of going alone but now he
considers it best if we leave Gotham and U.S. so that that man loses our
tracks.
Somehow I doubt that the lion-like man will have any trouble finding Bruce
again yet I agree that for now it’s the best solution. Of course I asked from
Thomas reassurances that Bruce will be safe there from after-earthquakes and
infections; he told me that Athens is secure and that the rescue teams have
already dragged out the corpses from the ruins and the area is disinfected.
He and his group will help with the wounded and he also wants Wayne Enterprises
to help rebuilt the area.
“You have a special interest in the country?” I asked him not because I don’t
approve his willingness to assist; I’m eager to help too. I’m just curious.
He shrugged.
“Just what I have learnt at school.”
Well, we discussed it a bit more and we concluded that the trip will benefit
Bruce: he’ll change environment and the mild climate of the country would make
him good.
Frankly, at this moment I’d have gone anywhere to leave Gotham; this mysterious
man freaks me out.
 
                                                                   June 12 1993
People are very warm and friendly in Greece; even in Marathon which was
literally devastated by the earthquake people are kind despite their calamity
and sorrow for the people they lost.
The weather here is sunny and the Aegean Sea is breathtaking; also, the green
scenery of the fields with the wild flowers and the pleasant smells make our
stay enjoyable. Yesterday we went with Bruce to the Acropolis and the boy was
awed making questions to the guide; questions unexpected from a 4 year old. But
my baby is a gifted child and the only reason I was reluctant to take him away
from Gotham was his courses. Yet I realize that he learns more here.
After the first days, I went with Thomas to Marathon; he at first didn’t want
to take me there but I pestered him and…I have my secret weapons to get what I
want.
The city is really in ruins and the people are living in tents or containers;
the army has taken over the food needs of the people, distributing meals along
with the humanitarian groups, local and international. The school is half
derelict and the local hospital though still erect lacks many things. Thomas
took me to see that even an infamous ancient temple at the outskirts of the
city has been damaged. It’s an awesome spot with incredibly beautiful view of
the sea and the fields; also, it has a strangely calm and powerful aura.
I usually don’t mess with the Enterprises but this time I urge Thomas to help
reconstruct the city and the ancient temple.
My beautiful husband smiles, hugs me and kisses me as the sun is sinking to the
Aegean Sea painting the sapphire waters with golden and blood-red rays. He
caresses my hair and pecks my forehead. It is evident that he is happy I urged
him to help the people.
 
                                                                   June 15 1993
Thomas had a very difficult surgery today and I spent the day going to Museums
and sightseeing with Bruce; we ate traditional dishes at a tavern in Plaka and
though very different from ours the boy liked them very much and especially the
desserts.
Although Thomas spends the most hours of the day working he always kisses Bruce
before leaving. But not today and Bruce noticed. He asked me why he hadn’t seen
his dad and when I told him that his father operates a young girl whose life is
in danger he clenched his jaw and whispered a wish for the little girl to live.
Also, as we strolled at the National Garden eating ice cream my baby asked me
to take him to the Marathon where his daddy helps people; I told him that we
must discuss it with Thomas.
 
                                                                   June 17 1993
I’m so very proud of Bruce! I mean I’m always proud of him but today even more.
We took him with us to Marathon and he began helping wherever he could. At
first people looked at the 4 year old American puzzled but then they smiled to
him or ruffled his locks.
As we return to Athens Bruce is sleeping in my lap; he is exhausted but happy
too.
 
                                                                   June 18 1993
 “Daddy, how is the little girl?”
Thomas looked at Bruce surprised and then at me; I gave him a half smile and
shrugged.
“She is recovering, Bruce; she’ll be fine.”
“Can I come with you at the hospital and meet her?”
Thomas looked at me again.
“I’m afraid no, Bruce” the boy looked really sad and Thomas immediately
squatted in front of him and held his upper arms. “She is recovering now but as
soon as she returns to her home we can ask her.”
Bruce looked at his father solemnly.
“She doesn’t have a home; the earthquake destroyed it. Most kids I met don’t
have a home, dad…”
Thomas nodded and pressed his lips.
“I know, Bruce…”
Bruce raised his beautiful eyes to lock with his father’s.
“Can’t you do something?” he almost pleaded. “No kid should be without
home…Imagine if I was in the streets…”
I saw Thomas’ eyes tearful; the innocence and the sincerity in Bruce’s voice
along with the sadness of his mesmerizing eyes were unbeatable. I rubbed the
bridge of my nose.
“I promise you, son; I won’t let any kid without home.”
 
                                                                   June 20 1993
Thomas makes the arrangements with the Greek government himself; he donates a
large amount of money in order the city to be rebuilt. We‘re going to stay here
until the works are finished; he had heard some nasty things about Greek
politicians and he wants to be sure.
The board of Wayne Enterprises isn’t too happy to hear but Lucius fixes things;
after all, Thomas is going to pay from his personal funds.
 
                                                              September 20 1993
The summer ends and the Fall starts slowly: well, in the calendar we’re already
in Fall yet in Greece summer extends till October or more. Tomorrow will return
to the States. I’m writing in front of the large rectangular window gazing at
Acropolis under the shine of the fool moon. Bruce and Thomas are asleep.
I’m calm…
A few hours ago we were at the fest the city of Marathon held to thank the
foreign and local people that helped them during the ordeal. Most of the city
has been rebuilt emphasis given in the restoration of the hospital and the
rebuilt of the school and the homes. Also, Thomas managed to urge the
government to restore the ancient temple. The city Mayor wanted to award Thomas
for his contribution but my husband politely refused; my baby doesn’t like to
be praised for his good deeds.
The fest took place at the central square, under the sky. It was a traditional
fest with folk music and traditional dishes. Bruce actually danced with the
other kids! Many kids knew some English so they could communicate.
We also met the family of the girl Thomas operated; the girl, Cassandra was
fine though she’d need some rehabilitation. I noticed Cassandra’s mother
staring at Thomas and Bruce and then me.
Some time before we left, Cassandra’s mother took me in a quiet place and gave
me something wrapped in an ancient looking fabric. I frowned and I unfolded it.
I have it in front of me now. It’s definitely a diamond, a black diamond and
though I’m not an expert I know that at Smithsonian’s Museum they have a
diamond exactly like this; its twin…
I tried to protest, to tell her that it was priceless, that she couldn’t give
that to me but she shook her head stubbornly. She didn’t know English; just
some words.
“Keep it…For the boy…Protect the boy…Please…”
She folded my fingers around the gem and ran mingling with the crowd. When I
returned to our seats in the table Thomas told me that the family bid good
night and left; also Bruce was half asleep in his father’s lap. We had to go…
As we moved to the car I searched with the eyes for the lady but I couldn’t
find her. I took Bruce in my lap and showed the gem to Thomas, explaining what
happened.
He reassured me that he knew the family’s name and address so to give them the
gem back; he thinks that at some point we’ll be able to explain to them how
precious is that thing and that we can’t keep it.
Thomas told me that the locals explained to him that the temple was dedicated
to the ancient Greek Goddess of Devine Justice, Nemesis; actually, the Black
Butterfly diamond at Smithsonian’s was taken from here but its twin was lost.
And now the woman who had it gave it to me…to protect my child…
That reminds me of that horrible man…Our return to Gotham scares me but at this
very moment watching the silver moon washing the illuminated Parthenon I’m
calm. Maybe the ancient Goddess’ charm protects my baby…
 
                                                              September 30 1993
I did a bit of research about Nemesis, the Goddess whose charm I was given and
according to the mythology she under the leadership of the Almighty Zeus and
along with her brothers and sisters defeated a terrible ancient demon.
Actually, some legends claim that she held a black gem when the battle with the
demon raged which made her invulnerable to his powers and one of the assets of
Zeus in the defeating of Bagdana, the king of all demons.
They say that her contribution during this battle made her the barrier of
Devine Justice and the punisher of arrogance not only between humans but also
gods.
Knowing all these makes me feel goose bumbs holding this magnificent gem which
reminds me the half of a pair of batwings. And it’s a reassurance for me that
maybe this gem indeed has some protective aura. I don’t believe in legends yet
some artifacts contain a strange aura and if that protects Bruce…I’m grateful.
Of course I won’t intend on keeping such a valuable ancient object: I’ll give
it back to the family that belonged after explaining to them its value.
Bruce shut the small diary. He inhaled raising his eyes to the cave ceiling.
 He had forgotten many of these things and that wasn’t odd; he was too young
and the horrible experiences after wounded his memory. He felt sad; reading the
diary was like living again with his parents; like they somehow came back from
the dead. And now ending the reading and closing the small book it was like
losing them again…
It was obvious that his mother didn’t know anything about the leaf birthmark or
her supposed demon ancestor. Ra’s indeed was watching him from very early and
his parents knew it. But it seems that after their return from Greece the
leader of the Shadows chose to follow a more discreet path.
And the Black Butterfly that Cassandra’s mother gave to Martha in order to
protect him? The gem according to the legends was connected to Bagdana and
Bruce could affirm from last night’s events that indeed repels the demon. But
why Cassandra’s mother gave it to Martha? Did she know something more?
He clenched his jaw; Cassandra, why don’t you tell me what you know?
And he was a Chimera…an unexplainable Chimera.
He rubbed his palms over his eyes. How many surprises his very existence had
for him? And Alfred or Leslie never told him…However he couldn’t blame them; he
was captive for eighteen years and being a Chimera doesn’t exactly bears
threats for your life. Yet given the situation that was very interesting…
He suddenly remembered that night in Dolcetto,when he found Clark half dead
from the Kryptonite and instead of being finished off due to the effect the man
actually felt better. Maybe that was because of his double DNA? Maybe the
second set of DNA had the opposite effect on the Man of Steel and just took
over at that very moment triggered by his concussion?
He shook his head Alfred’s remark echoing in his head:
“You’re physically blessed, sir.”
Try cursed, Alfred.
He heard the lift and hastily hid the diary; he looked at the clock in the
screen. The day hadn’t enough hours…and although it was still morning Bruce
wished he had the ability to turn the clock backwards to gain additional time.
“Hi, Alfred”
Alfred seemed startled from Bruce’s greeting; he expected to find the young man
morose, especially since he was carrying another tray for him.
“I’m sorry for the interruption, sir but I thought that you might want a light
brunch: some lemon pie and a juice.”
Actually, Bruce felt the need for a scotch but Alfred better not figure this
out.
“Thank you, Alfred; it seems and smells deliciously.”
Alfred relieved but suspicious put the tray on the bench.
“I also brought the painkillers Leslie prescribed; I thought that this kind of
work might cause you some pain.”
Bruce smiled and saw Alfred’s eyes relax; it was so easy to make the man happy.
“I’m not in pain, Alfred; thank you.”
Alfred nodded.
“As you wish, sir; but, please, if you…”
“If I feel any pain I’ll take the pills.”
“Do I have your promise, Master Bruce?”
Bruce rolled his eyes and sighed.
“Who likes to be in pain, Alfred?”
Alfred smirked and winked.
“I’m afraid you, sir.”
Bruce grunted and Alfred chuckling turned to leave.
“Oh! I almost forgot!” he turned his head. “Ms. Turner called and asked about
you’ she sounded concerned: I told her that you were resting and she said that
she would call again.”
“I’ll call her; thank you, Alfred.”
“You’re most welcome, Master Bruce. I’m cooking your favorite food; I hope
you’ll honor me this time?”
Bruce pressed his lips.
“I will, Alfred; this time I will” he frowned. “Do I have a favorite food?”
 
Rachel looked at the note that was on the bouquet of red roses she received an
hour ago.
“You’ll make me the happiest man in the world if you accept to have dinner with
me (and my father) tomorrow at 22:00. I want everyone in Gotham see me with the
two most important people of my life. I’ll drop by around 21:00, is it okay?”
                                                                           Love
                                                                        Harvey”
“Shit…”
 
Pepper approached Tony who held his glass of scotch as if wondering if he
should drink it or not.
The official presentation of the bionic body parts had finished with the
impressive presence of a twelve year old girl who had lost both her arms in an
accident and now she had arms that nobody could tell the difference from the
actual and her functionality was perfectly normal.
“You don’t seem satisfied” she told him and he just gave a humpf.
Bruce didn’t come to the event. And Tony missed him; well, not in a time
meaning; they had eaten lunch together at the Manor where he recounted to Bruce
the delivery of Joker’s cell. His friend was very happy to hear it… actually,
‘happy’ was an exaggeration for Bruce. But content.
Yet when Tony reminded him of the evening presentation Bruce refused to be
there.
“People will view it as a token of weakness, Bruce!”
“I’m recovering from a head injury; besides, everyone sees me as a victim, so
big deal!” Bruce answered nonchalant. “There are more important things.”
Tony had shaken his head exasperated; he realized that Bruce had some point and
his absence due to health reasons wasn’t so bad after all, yet he wanted his
friend there. He wanted to share this as well.
“Dagget will take advantage of this” he retorted warningly and Bruce closed his
eyes.
“Why are you doing this, Tony? Wayne Enterprises after eighteen years present a
major project that will rocket us among the respected conglomerates – what do
you think Dagget will gain if I won’t be there? Besides, Lucius has my salute
for the presentation.”
Bruce stood from the stool and walked towards the door.
“Dagget will try to undermine me no matter what” he locked eyes with Tony.
“Maybe you want to support him in that?”
Tony shook his head.
“Of course not, buddy; we’re friends and allies. But still I don’t find a
reason why you shouldn’t come to such an important event.”
Alfred who was watching poised from a corner sighed.
“Master Anthony, I think that you shouldn’t insist more on that” his voice was
mild and compromising. “I don’t think that any reasonable person will talk bad
for Master Bruce: everyone knows about his recent ordeal.”
Bruce grunted and just walked out of the kitchen. Tony stood hastily to follow
but Alfred stopped him with a gaze.
“Master Anthony, please; do not put more pressure on him; he has many things on
his mind.”
He frowned and looked inquiringly at the loyal butler.
“What do you know, Alfred?”
“Nothing, sir; unfortunately. But I know that Master Bruce is in a very
difficult point so we must be careful and understanding.”
“Damn!” he exclaimed frustrated and slapped his palms on his hips. “Why isn’t
he talking to anyone?! I’m his best friend, damn it! You’re like father to
him!” Alfred bit his lips.
“Master Anthony, please, be patient with him. After all, we insisted that he
needs rest.”
He felt his bratty self popping.
“Yeah, but he won’t rest; he’ll stay here to work not rest.”
Alfred blinked.
“At the moment, for Master Bruce social events are more exhausting than working
hours at his computer. You need to accept his choices, sir.”
Tony sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Don’t worry; I won’t abandon him, Alfred.”
“Well?” Pepper insisted. “Everyone here is ecstatic from the artificial body
parts and the use of arc reactor technology in brain malfunctions. What’s the
matter?”
Tony rubbed his finger on the glass’ rim. He looked lopsided at Pepper.
“Bruce is not here…”
Pepper crossed her arms and huffed.
“You know that you sound like a spoiled brat? Bruce needs some space especially
after his adventure with Joker.”
“Everyone will take that as cowardice!” he snapped.
Pepper gritted her teeth and stabbed her stiletto heel on the floor.
“Do you?! You think that Bruce is coward just because he didn’t come to a
bloody presentation?! You’re unbelievable, Tony!”
Tony sipped his drink and shook his head.
“Of course I don’t believe that but people…”
“Ugh! People who matter know who Bruce is and how brave he is! You want to be
in the same line as Bruce’s enemies? Tony! Get a grip! Because Bruce didn’t
indulge you this time, doesn’t mean that your friendship ended. For pity’s
sake, Tony; your friend has suffered a severe concussion and was forcibly
drugged – he has the right to be let loose for a bit.”
Tony lolled his head; Pepper was right. Bruce was under pressure all those
months since he got free; he needed some freedom. He sighed and opened his
mouth to answer yet a sudden fuss and an avalanche of flashes and running
footsteps drew their attention and Tony gaped.
Bruce immaculately dressed, stunning as ever but with the gauze over his wound
from Joker’s blow had ascended to the podium and shook hands with Lucius. He
walked to the microphones and waved to the crowd.
“My good doctor advised me to rest and my initial intention was to obey – this,
as you understand, is to appease her” he smiled and many of the reporters
laughed. “Yet my conscience didn’t allow me to stay away from such an important
moment for the history of Wayne Enterprises and for my friend Tony Stark who
along with the talented people in both our companies is the heart of this
project. Also, I felt demanding the need to thank all of you for your presence
here and for your trust in the newly reformed Wayne Enterprises. Though a bit
late…” he smiled shyly.
Pepper smirked to Tony.
“You took what you wanted…” she whispered and Tony felt a knot.
He almost ran to the podium and hugged his friend who just finished his speech
under a warm applause.
“You didn’t need to do that…” Bruce whispered as they withdrew to a quiet
corner of the reception hall of the Wayne Tower.
Tony gave a crooked smile.
“But I wanted to and you know I’m a spoiled brat…” he cocked his eyebrows and
Bruce sighed. “You’re stunning, by the way; I’m envious…” he teased.
Bruce shrugged.
“Your fault; I didn’t want to come…”
“Wicked cufflinks!” he exclaimed seeing the star sapphire cufflinks on Bruce’s
white silk shirt.
“They were my father’s…”
He was finishing buttoning his shirt and his hands shook; he didn’t want to go
yet he had to. He took the cufflink with the star sapphire and tried to connect
it but then the corner of his eye caught his reflection on the mirror and
something blew inside him; he shoved the valuable cufflink on the wall and
stormed to the window.
He heard the knock on the door but didn’t answer; Alfred came in silently and
with just a gaze understood. The loyal butler walked to the wall and took the
cufflink from the floor; Bruce heard Alfred’s quiet steps coming to him.
Alfred took gently his hand and fixed the cufflink; then the loyal butler
looked him in the eye.
“These cufflinks were your late father’s; he’d have been very happy seeing them
on you…” he fixed the second cufflink. “Yet, Master Bruce, you don’t have to go
there if you don’t want to…”
He lolled his head.
“Tony wants it…”
Tony suddenly frowned seeing someone approaching and Bruce though took notice
pretended ignorance.
“What are you doing here?” Tony slapped himself.
The guy with the long blond hair and the bulging body halted abruptly and Bruce
stared at him.
“At least you wear a suit!” Tony exclaimed and lolled his head. “A bad one…”
The blond guy looked himself and blushed; his mahogany suit wasn’t the best for
human standards.
“I told you to stay away from Gotham!” he yelled silently to not cause
attention.
Bruce though very annoyed knew that it wasn’t the time for turmoil.
“Tony, I don’t think it polite to treat like this a God.”
Thor looked surprised at Bruce and smiled honestly.
“You know me?”
Bruce gave a court smile and lolled his head.
“Well, the suit makes you look differently than in the Avengers’ poster in
Tony’s room yet you’re still recognizable.”
Tony bulged his eyes and Thor laughed.
“You have a poster in your bedroom?”
Tony scratched his head.
“Who doesn’t?”
Thor stretched his hand to Bruce.
“It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Wayne; I always wanted to express to you
personally my respect and admiration.”
Bruce shook his hand and smiled though he felt rather uncomfortable and alert
with a member of the S.H.I.E.L.D. in Gotham.
“I am the one honored by the presence of a God in our humble presentation. But
now I have to go: you’ll have things to talk and I must get some rest. Have a
lovely evening!”
Tony closed his eyes in despair; He knew that Bruce was angry and he didn’t
blame him.
“What do you want, Thor?”
The Norse God ran his hand in his long locks.
“I didn’t want to make your friend leave…”
Tony nodded.
“But you did! Well, get to the point!”
Thor turned towards the room’s exit where Bruce just passed.
“Bruce Wayne has a powerful aura…”
“Yep, yep…You came from Asgard for that?”
“To be honest, I wanted to meet your friend.”
Tony rolled his eyes and felt the heat from the scotch he downed gathering in
his head.
“I told you I didn’t want any of you here!”
Yet Thor pierced him with a steely blue gaze and Tony felt that it was serious.
“Did your friend have any encounter with demons?” he whispered.
Tony felt his fingers go numb around his glass but at the last moment tightened
his grip and gulped the remaining liquid. Bruce had told him about a nightmare
with a demon but his friend denied even the possibility of it being true.
“What are you talking about?” he wasn’t sure if he should spill anything about
Bruce to his teammate.
“I told you that your friend gets attention from supernatural realms but I
think that it’s getting worse. I believe that he is stalked by a powerful
ancient demon.”
Tony rubbed his forehead; he needed more booze. Bruce being stalked by a demon;
just when they got rid of Superman. And Thor in the case…He wasn’t Batman yet
in the case of Bruce he also didn’t want the Avengers to get involved. He still
got mad whenever he remembered Fury’s deeds.
“Can you just stop watching my friend?! It’s creepy! Leave him alone already!”
he barked but quietly enough so that nobody took notice.
Thor looked puzzled from his comrade’s extreme reaction and almost hurt; he
opened his mouth to retort yet a discreet sound made both of them turn their
attention there.
Tony pulled out his cell; Natasha sent an urgent message to every Avenger to
rush to Sydney, Australia because something was attacking S.H.I.E.L.D.’s
headquarters there and civilians were in imminent danger.
Tony arched his eyebrows to Thor.
“You’re saved by the beep!”
 
Superman was flying over Gotham; as always Gotham’s night was chill and cloudy.
Yet he came to love this city…He sighed though he had some nasty things to
remember that prickled his conscience.
He was sure that Batman would be patrolling his city; though still early this
city had other crime rules despite the remarkable decrease in the criminality
rate during the last months – well, if you forget Joker’s rant.
He could have ‘enabled’ his body’s radar to find the elusive Bat yet he didn’t
feel right to do it and he was uncertain whether it still worked. So he chose
the traditional – for him – way using his super senses to scan the city. His Ma
had guessed right when said that Bruce can’t be easily cornered at least now
that he was free from his captors. Yet he hoped that Bruce wouldn’t deny Clark
the chance to speak to him again.
He located him on a rooftop overlooking Saint Mary’s Park; he resisted the
temptation to scan his brain waves to read his emotions. He landed behind him
though he was sure that Batman knew already his presence.
When Bruce left the Wayne Tower pissed at the presence of an Avenger in Gotham
he returned to the cave and donned the suit; Selina had watched him stealthy
during his outing as Bruce Wayne yet he explained to her that she must not
follow Batman around. So he was alone to patrol his city till the meeting of
the big three, having the Black Butterfly stashed in a compartment of his belt.
Yet after reading his mother’s diary Bruce was reminded of his love for this
park; the mornings and afternoons he spent here with his parents and Alfred.
“What do you want?” Batman’s growl wasn’t exactly what Clark dreamt about their
‘reunion’ but at least the man didn’t avoid him.
Clark walked closer but Batman didn’t change his posture keeping his back to
him.
“I just wanted to talk to you.”
Batman turned slowly and gazed at him with his artificial eyes that oddly
emanated the man’s emotions.
“I thought we said everything.”
Superman made a step forward and Batman didn’t move yet Clark felt the aura of
displeasure and coughed.
“If you want me to leave I’ll do it right away.”
Batman pierced Clark’s clear blue eyes testing; he found only honesty there. He
pressed his lips and turned his back to the Man of Steel who feared that this
was his dismissal.
“At the Telecommunication Center” he said flatly but for Clark it was the most
encouraging thing.
“Right!” he answered but Batman was already gone.
Of course the Telecommunication Center, Superman thought flying over Gotham. It
was the safest place to have a discussion without being eavesdropped or bugged;
the various transmissions in and out were the best block for any tracking
devices.
He reached the place before Batman as was expected and he couldn’t help but
feel satisfied for that small victory.
“Talk!”
He almost jumped from the throaty voice behind him; he might have made it there
first but Batman still managed to surprise him. Clark turned to the human.
“I thought it’d be insensitive of me to come to the Manor after what I did…”
Batman nodded waiting for the continuation and Clark licked his lips.
“I wanted to apologize for what I did; I was a monster, a villain driven by…”
Batman raised his palm to stop him from continuing.
“It wasn’t your fault; you’re under the effect.”
Clark made a step forward but halted abruptly when took in the human’s glare.
“But I still carry the responsibility of not being able to restrain myself even
under that effect; I should have realized that something wasn’t right and be
extra careful. Stark had warned me yet I didn’t hear him; even Selina berated
me for…” he blushed “kissing you at the hospital bed. But I didn’t make the
effort to think.”
Batman didn’t change his stance as Clark talked.
“It was my wrong judgement that led to this; I should have informed you right
away. Thankfully, no innocent was in danger and that’s all; it ended.”
Clark shook his head frustrated; he wanted Bruce to let him take the blame.
“Yes, but still…”
“Superman. Enough with this” Batman snapped. “Your apology is much appreciated
though there was no need” he continued obviously impatient because the big
three meeting was near and he wanted to be there before the guests began
arriving. “You took your lesson and from now on you’ll be more careful; and
that’s the important.”
Clark moved more towards him and sensed Batman stiffen.
“The most important about me is you: what I said, what I did…My dreadful
articles…How that damn effect took my emotions and turned them into…”
Batman shook his head; he knew where Clark was heading.
“You must forget this; stop thinking about this: it was only a bad dream for
you and now you’re wake.”
Clark narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips; ugh! That stubborn, that wounded
being…
“It wasn’t a bad dream, B” Batman clenched his teeth and Clark stopped
realizing that he was going to utter his name. “I mean, it might have been a
nightmare for you but what I felt…I mean, I still feel the same.”
Batman fisted his hands; that stubborn alien. Why he doesn’t want to
understand?
“It’s too early to shake off the addiction: the worst addiction and most
difficult to overcome is the addiction of the mind. You’ll soon change your
opinion.”
Clark smiled sadly.
“I don’t share your certainty but…” he chuckled bitterly “you’ve made your
homework.”
Batman passed him walking towards the rooftop’s edge.
“I must leave” he said emotionless though Clark’s sadness made him sad too but
he knew that the man would be better when the hangover was…over; and being far
from him would make it faster.
Clark floated in his despair to talk to him before he vanished.
“Do you want me to stay your ally?” he asked eager.
Batman turned slowly his head.
“We’re in the same side.”
Clark’s eyes shone.
“That means ‘yes’?”
“You shouldn’t be so thrilled about something so trivial.”
Trivial? Oh, Bruce! Nothing about you is trivial.
“And if I’m not too daring can I hope to your friendship?”
Oh, Clark! Why are you so difficult?
“I know it’s early…” Clark added hastily. “I know I ask a lot…”
Batman looked him in the eyes and Clark felt as if he was pierced from Bruce’s
enchanting real eyes.
“You must go to Fox for your other doses – you must fully restore your powers.
And I think it’d be wise if you pretend to have some troubles with your
powers.”
His abrupt change of subject didn’t evade Clark but he nodded.
“You want to hide that I’m cured from those who caused that.”
“Exactly.”
“So that they won’t be prepared when we will face them; you know who they are”
he frowned. “It’s the League, right?”
“I’ll explain everything when the time comes; meanwhile stay away from Gotham.”
This hurt…Superman pressed his lips.
“I understand that you don’t want me near you but wouldn’t they suspect if I
don’t twirl around you like a love-sick puppy?”
Batman yanked his head.
“Just do that.”
The Man of Steel nodded.
“But I have to come to Lucius Fox to get the medicine.”
“With subtlety.”
The black clad man dived in the void and spread his wings; he had a meeting to
attend before the police arrived.
Superman followed his graceful form and sighed.
“I know, Ma; if I want him to trust me again I must respect his wishes…”
He raised his fist in the air and took off for Metropolis shutting his senses
to Gotham’s alluring stimuli.
 
Ironman shot his heavy missiles at the same time that Thor pointed his Mjolnir
to the strange jet that fired at the building that housed S.H.I.E.L.D.’s
headquarters which no Avenger knew till now; in the middle of Sydney’s most
crowded avenue - the bastards didn’t care if civilians were killed.
Captain America used his shield to absorb the missiles the hostile craft fired
and Natasha used her agility to grab and take out of the way some pedestrians.
The jet began to burn and losing height and the crowd in the street yelled
trying to cover themselves which was a lost cause because the burning mass
descended rapidly.
And then a green giant roared and grabbed the destroyed craft, running to the
Sydney bay to throw it in the water. The fire quenched immediately and the
other Avengers came around Hulk.
“Are you OK, big guy?” Tony asked and was answered with a growl which made him
cock an eyebrow. “You have so much in common…except the color of course…” he
mumbled.
“Let’s draw it out of the water to see the bastards who did it!” Captain
America said grinding his teeth.
But Ironman shook his head.
“Don’t bother: it’s unmanned; controlled from afar.”
 
Batman sensed it coming without the need to see it; a giant presence landing
before him. He yanked his head and clenched his jaw acknowledging the imposing
opponent.
“Hello, little Bat! We’re out for a night stroll?”
 
Gambol was seated at a table by the wall in his granny’s restaurant waiting his
counterparts. Behind him stood his goons hiding their weapons and looking calm.
It was a meeting of good will after all, without hostilities; they were on the
same side and had the same interests. They could find common ground – they
weren’t brutes or loonies like Joker.
He insisted on changing the time of meeting for a bit earlier; in a city with a
spying Bat you can’t be sure…
They allowed some customers to occupy few tables because they didn’t want to
cause suspicions; it was just a friendly gathering.
Maroni and Chechen came almost simultaneously and Gambol’s door men ushered
them inside before returning to their posts. The three crime lords exchanged
handshakes and took their seats with their bodyguards standing behind them.
“I think we can start” Gambol said impatient; he knew that he had to do this
but it didn’t mean that he liked it or that he wouldn’t backstab his enemies in
the first chance. After all, everyone thought just the same with him.
Maroni’s crooked smile was speaking itself while Chechen just moved nervously
in his seat.
“First subject: the docks” Maroni raised his hand elegantly.
The door opened and everyone turned startled; nobody was supposed to get in
after the three was gathered.
“What your idiots are doing?” Chechen asked annoyed.
Gambol narrowed his eyes ready to snap and tried to discern from the window his
men’s figures in front of the door.
“Are you looking for them?” a seductive but icy cold female voice said and his
four men’s decapitated bodies were thrown to the floor by ninja clad men who
swarmed around a young woman no more than 30 years old.
She was beautiful with an elegant and muscled lean silhouette highlighted by
her black form fitting shirt and pants. Her waist long raven hair waved behind
her and her black eyes shone arrogantly as she stepped with her stiletto heels
over the dead bodies to approach the crime lords’ table.
“You’re dead, lady!” Maroni gestured to his men and they motioned for their
guns.
Yet at least twenty odd looking rifles pointed at them from every corner of the
room and the few customers yelled.
The woman completely expressionless stabbed them with her eyes while a huge man
came behind her.
“I don’t think so, Mr. Maroni.”
“Who are you?” Gambol asked angry but unable to react.
Chechen squinting around for an escape opened his hands on the table in
surrender.
“What do you want?” he cocked an eyebrow. “This is a negotiation table; we can
discuss it.”
“I don’t think so” she answered shaking her head and raised her hand.
She graciously snapped her fingers once. Twenty rifles began rattling spitting
fire on the three crime lords, their goons and the customers. Talia watched
completely unfazed the people’s bodies make small explosions where the bullets
sank and the blood spurting more loudly than the desperate cries and the almost
silent firing of the guns.
Talia snapped her fingers again and the firing stopped. Bane left his spot
behind his mistress and walked to the table where the crime lords’ bodies
either were slumped on the table or collapsed to the floor massacred as if half
eaten by sharks.
“Everyone’s dead.”
Talia cocked an eyebrow.
“That’s a really useful information, Bane; thank you.” She smirked gazing
greedily at the deformed bodies. “The game just started.”
She turned elegantly, kicked away one of the decapitated bodies blocking her
path and strut outside, her minions following.
***** Chapter 54 *****
The Avengers’ jet floated over Australia and Tony wasn’t the only annoyed by
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s unwillingness to let them in Sydney’s headquarters despite the
fact they just saved not only S.H.I.E.L.D.’s agents but also hundreds
civilians.
They had taken their seats and waited in silence; Tony had his knitted fingers
in front of his face and suddenly huffed and looked at his teammates.
“Wow! This is what I call a cheerful vibe!” he hopped from his chair. “I’ll
bring beers…”
He moved to the vintage vending machine and using his thumb fingertip took five
beers which he tossed to his comrades.
“Something stinks…” Natasha furrowed her brows.
“It must be Thor’s cologne!” Tony winked to the Norse God teasingly. “His
dressing and perfume choices are worse even from those of Captain America!”
Natasha gave him an exasperated glare, Steve gaped and Thor smiled.
“I don’t mean that” the Black Widow answered smugly.
“I know, honey” Tony replied and sipped from his bottle. “S.H.I.E.L.D. hides
many things: we know nothing about them” he arched his eyebrows “and they
didn’t even have the minimum of politeness to let us in their Sydney
headquarters.”
Steve took a hesitant sip from his beer and shook his head.
“I’m aware that wars need secrecy but this is outrageous. We don’t know what’s
going on and not even for whom we work.”
Thor had his arms crossed and just frowned; being involved with human
organizations and their agendas maybe wasn’t worthy after all. Doctor Banner
looked the bottle of beer and took a large gulp; maybe it was unwise to trust
them with Hulk?
“I understand your doubts, lady and gentlemen” Fury’s sharp, smug voice entered
the cabin and everyone turned towards him.
Of course the veteran had the skills to be stealthy and avoid being detected
but for Tony that was ridiculous. They were a bunch of super heroes after all;
it must be their irritation.
Fury walked closer and took the bottle of beer that Thor didn’t open. He opened
it and downed a large quantity.
“I know you don’t like our secrecy; yet it seems that it’s necessary after all.
You see, despite our secrecy and protective measures, S.H.I.E.L.D. seems to be
under attack.”
Everyone frowned. And Tony walked to Fury.
“What do you mean?”
Fury acknowledged the shorter man and nodded.
“Just a couple of days ago an ammunition storage was hit and weapons of the
highest technology were stolen.”
Steve stood and approached Fury.
“And why we weren’t informed?” he demanded.
Fury’s eye glimmered with self confidence.
“Because it wasn’t your business…”
The usually calm Thor burst from his seat and surged there; his eyebrows were
furrowed and his baby blue eyes spit fire.
“Don’t talk to us like this! We set ourselves to your service in order to guide
us into helping the Earth; we trusted you and followed your orders as if you
were better than us” he arched his brows. “We tolerated your secrecy, we ran to
save you and now you have the nerve to tell us that it’s not our business! I am
a God, Fury and these people here are way better than you to treat them like
mindless robots!”
Fury pressed his lips and shook his head; he didn’t expect such outburst and
realized his mistake.
Tony smiled and gave the thumbs up to his comrade.
“I didn’t intend to insult any of you” Fury made an appeasing gesture. “I
apologize if my words had that effect” he looked Thor in the eye. “We wanted to
fix the matter ourselves without distracting the Avengers from their usual
activities.”
Steve shook his head.
“I think this is bullshit! You just want us as puppets!”
Fury bit his lip.
“You’re a soldier, Captain America…”
Steve raised an eyebrow.
“Exactly, a soldier not a mindless robot!”
Tony held his palm upwards to calm his teammate but kept his eyes narrowed; he
turned to Fury.
“How could someone know S.H.I.E.L.D.’s weapon storage when we don’t know even
your headquarters?”
Fury blinked.
“We investigate that.”
Tony shook his head.
“Now I feel so relieved!” he answered sarcastic and arched his eyebrows but
instantly he frowned. “And which weapons were stolen? The high tech weapons Dr.
Banner manufactured?” Tony would never give weapons to S.H.I.E.L.D yet he knew
that Bruce Banner did.
Fury seemed uncomfortable and Tony smirked as Banner rose worried from his
seat; the last he wanted was his weapons in the wrong hands.
Tony locked eyes with Fury lolling his head towards Dr. Banner.
“He begins getting green so speak or the jet will soon be in ruins.”
Fury crossed his arms and looked at Dr. Banner.
“Your weapons are safe…”
“For now…” Tony snorted.
“The weapons were bought from Lex Luthor.”
Tony’s eyes widened while the others looked each other scandalized.
“You buy weaponry from Luthor!” Tony exclaimed huffing. “Oh, man! S.H.I.E.L.D.
is the dumbest and dirtiest organization in the world considering that you put
the face of the justice defender on” he remembered Bruce’s warnings and doubts
and he was glad that he heard him and didn’t provide any weapons to them: it’d
have been like giving weapons to the League of Shadows!
Fury focused his eye on Tony and shook his head.
“It’s not dumb to have inside knowledge to the enemy’s technology: this way we
can keep track and find anti-measures to outdo their weaponry; also, knowing
the weapons of the most crucial gun dealers we can identify their work when in
the hands of terrorists or crime groups.”
Tony pouted and shook his head sarcastic.
“Yep. Assuming that Luthor is so stupid to sell the same weapons or of the same
technology to be used in illegal activities – and he is not: LEXCORP has many
secret branches that construct weapons. Plus, you might have given him access
to your ‘top secret’ storages” he snorted at the ‘top secret’.
Fury rolled his eye.
“We took our precautions. We’ll find soon the weapons and the culprits – the
weapons have tracking chips on.”
Tony gave a half smile and crossed his arms.
“And why you didn’t find them already?”
Fury inhaled.
“They still haven’t used the weapons – they must keep them in a safe place.”
“Meaning that they might know about your tracking chips?” Natasha asked
demandingly slowly approaching.
“And we have to wait for them to kill innocent people with the guns?” Steve
asked disgusted.
Tony gave a crook smile to Fury.
“You keep us in the dark but your super safe little organization is breached;
it seems that your safety measures are focused on us rather on real enemies.”
Fury gritted his teeth and yanked his head.
“That’s not true! S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t breached; our safety is the strongest
there is.”
Tony could think of someone who could challenge that in action…
“Then there is a traitor inside S.H.I.E.L.D” Dr. Banner told and everyone
stared at him especially Fury who shook his head in denial.
“How can you be sure?” Tony asked Fury. “How far your knowledge about this
ghost organization goes?”
Fury seemed thoughtful; indeed, he didn’t know much about S.H.I.E.L.D. Not even
his fellow directors but this was for safety reasons: someone already attacked
the organization’s web; if they knew each other then one compromised would mean
imminent danger for the others; at least, he believed that.
“Or maybe Luthor sold his weapons to S.H.I.E.L.D. making sure that he’d be able
to stole them back and do his dirty business with them without anyone suspect
him” Natasha said.
Tony rubbed his chin: he didn’t consider Luthor that stupid.
 
Batman stared the black metallic giant in front of him; thankfully, they stood
in an empty alley without civilians witnessing the scene.
He was like a huge robot yet he remembered Tony’s battle with a mysterious
opponent who wore a black metallic armor. Tony had said that his opponent was
much like Ironman in height and weight yet what was challenging Batman was 7’
5’’ and wide as two closets so Batman counted that the alloy of the armor must
weight around 4,000 lbs. This fact albeit terrifying at first actually made his
job easier: as Alexander the Great said (Al Ghul had taught him that) the
bigger the army is the harder to control it and the easier to disperse it. And
well, the same goes for armors too.
What however made Bruce the greatest impression was the glowing circle in the
middle of the armor’s chest: an arc reactor like Tony’s. So Tony’s technology
was indeed stolen which might sound ominous but in this case was nice for
Bruce.
“Meet your gravedigger, Batman!” Batman rolled his eyes behind the lenses and
fought the urge to snort. “I’m the Iron Monger!”
Batman stood his ground, clenched his jaw and yanked his head.
“Do you expect a handshake?” he growled nonchalant.
The giant Iron…thing made a sound that Batman with his trained hearing knew it
was a human grunt of impatience; so a man was actually inside. The huge right
hand rose and a rattling gun protruded making the clear sound of loading.
Batman focused his eyes on the Monger’s gun completely poised and as his
opponent fired he jolted so fast that the giant form lolled its metallic head
searching the Bat who waited him standing on a bin.
“You’re in Gotham; this is my city and you’re unwanted.”
Batman heard a rattling laugh distorted from the thick alloy helmet.
“You’re very arrogant, little rodent; you should begin running already to save
your hide!”
The Monger boosted himself towards Batman yet despite the flying ability his
weight made him a piece of cake to avoid; Batman somersaulted over him kicking
the back of his neck and albeit the thick alloy of the armor the giant wobbled
and finally crashed on the bin.
Actually, Bruce had noticed that Tony’s armor was a bit vulnerable in the back
of his neck where information from all the systems passed in their way to the
control panel exactly like the human body. He had pointed that to his friend
and he fixed it so Batman with that kick wanted to test if his opponent stole
the tech before or after the change. Before.
Monger growled, tangled among the wrinkled metal of the garbage bin and some
bricks from the wall.
“This is destruction of public property” Batman said stretching his posture. “I
won’t let you burden the city’s budget.”
The giant jumped to his column-like feet and turned; Batman could have attacked
yet he preferred to study this opponent.
“I was meant to just stun you yet now I’ll kill you!” the distorted voice
roared and the grenade launcher on his forearm fired at Batman.
The wall exploded but no black mass was splattered; the Monger had his scanning
system on yet he couldn’t find the flying rodent’s vitals nor see him.
Batman was perched on the fire escape smirking; of course, it was the same
scanning technology with Ironman’s and he could fool it. He opened his wings
and landed on the Monger’s shoulders. He held a magnet bomb and stuck it to the
center of the shoulders where he knew it was the crossroad of various systems.
Monger began convulsing to throw the Bat from him yet Batman popped out the
diamond blades at his forearm and stabbed the metal slashing it till his ribs
destroying the channels fueling the armor from the arc reactor’s energy. Batman
doubted that the man inside the armor had an arc reactor to keep him alive so
his armor’s arc reactor needed a direct system to distribute the energy,
something that Tony’s body did for Ironman.
The giant from alloy felt immediately the problem – his control systems in the
helmet must have gone crazy and swayed jolting his heavy, square hands in an
effort to catch the Bat. Bruce was sure that the Iron Monger wasn’t aware of
the magnet bomb because his armor’s alloy was immune to magnets; which was
perfectly reasonable because the last time he fought with Tony his friend’s
magnetic missiles hit his armor so he fixed the weakness. However this wasn’t a
common magnet and could stick even to metals that didn’t attract usual magnets.
Batman remained perched on the giant’s back avoiding like a dancer the lethal
hands that wanted to crush him and then pushed his feet and jolted, landing on
his feet and piercing with his lenses the Iron Monger’s head.
“You’ll die now!” the despair of the man inside was evident and Batman figured
out that the damage was heavy.
Yet the Bat jumped again as a laser beam came at him just when he landed
feeling a stinging at his hip where the beam grazed the armor; however he kept
twisting his body midair to avoid the avalanche of beams Monger fired at will…
When your training included avoiding being hit by two to twenty highly trained
ninjas at the same time then escaping lasers was relatively easier…
The magnetic bomb exploded and the giant shocked staggered giving Batman the
signal to form his legs as a catapult and sank his feet to the giant’s arc
reactor which began discharging sending small multicolored lightning.
Batman heard the Iron Monger’s enraged shout and landed on his knee watching
the giant being in a dazzle trying simultaneously to touch the spot where the
bomb exploded and the malfunctioning arc reactor losing his balance and
retreating to the wall.
Bruce pulled out his explosive Batarangs and sent them to nail the squirming
monster which shook violently as new explosions ruined more of his armor.
Batman rose confident watching his opponent and drew both his grapple guns
firing the cables to wrap around the Iron Monger’s feet bounding them together
and making his effort to stay erect even harder. The giant began falling and
the Bat jumped to the fire escape grateful that no civilian was there.
However the bang from the fall of such quantity of metal surely would cause
much attention and panic. He landed on the giant’s side.
“Time to see who you are” he growled.
Yet Iron Monger had no intention to be caught or recognized so he used the last
remaining energy and powered his boost and flying system to escape the damn
alley and reach the sky. He had to lick his wounds and then come back for
revenge on the Bat.
Batman yanked his head watching the smoking giant run for it and pointed his
grabble gun to the gargoyle overlooking him. He could try to follow the giant
to catch him but he had to be at Gambol’s restaurant before the police arrived;
also, he was sure that Monger was so damaged that wouldn’t attempt to attack
Gotham.
He elevated himself with the cable and used it as impetus to rocket into the
sky with his wings open. The meeting was at 22:00 so he had some time despite
the battle with the imitation of Ironman; Batman had the suspicion that this
happened on purpose to delay him but he doubted that the three crime lords had
any involvement in this. Someone else knew about the meeting, was sure that
Batman would be there and sent that tin-monster to thwart him.
Yet he was squatting on the rooftop overlooking the restaurant of Ms. Gambol on
time. Batman frowned; it wasn’t 22:00 but Maroni’s and Chechen’s unofficial
cars were already there. Damn! They must have changed the time of the meeting
to evade him! And there were other suspicious things: for example, there wasn’t
any guard in front of the door and he knew that the door had always at least
one guard because Gambol had a soft spot for his granny and wanted to be sure
for her safety.
Also, the place was strangely quiet. Batman as Freddy knew that the place was
never loud but not quiet either. He raised his forearm and pressed the button
which projected the building’s diagram on the air.
His eyes widened; there were people slumbered on the floor and the tables; all
of them dead except for a kneeled form by a corpse. He dived to the void and
landed right in front of the main entrance.
Walking inside the main hall, he was attacked by the stinging smell of blood,
burnt flesh and gun activity though that activity’s scent was different from
everything he knew. Some steps more and he had a whole view of the dining hall;
a sight of Hell as much as the diagram had him prepared.
The way to the inner hall was covered with four beheaded bodies, their severed
heads tossed carelessly to a corner; they must be the guards. Inside, people
that Batman didn’t knew as members of the gangs were shot down either at their
tables or in their frantic effort to make it to the exit. Gambol obviously had
let some customers inside to make it look normal and the attacker didn’t take
pity on them. A massacre.
The three crime lords filled with holes that a common bullet wouldn’t have made
were half sprawled to the table and half in their seats; their blood sprayed
the wooden table and the floor. Around them lay their goons who didn’t even
manage to draw their weapons to defend themselves. But what clenched Batman’s
guts was the kneeled form.
He recognized her: she was Gambol’s grandmother, the restaurant’s owner. She
pulled her grandson from the table to her lap and cupped his face; his bulged
eyes crystallized from the ultimate terror were looking at his granny’s
wrinkled, tired face but without seeing her crying and howling.
Batman, well, Freddy, knew her: she used to give him food whenever he cringed
in the store’s out walls or money – sometimes during the extremely cold days
she took him inside, gave him a warm meal and spoke to him about her life. She
was a nice old lady and he really felt for her pain; actually, her image
brought to him the image of little Richard crying as his brother’s casket
descended into the grave, or his own tiny hands reaching for his dead mother’s
body till his father was shot too and cried to him to run.
He didn’t want to disturb the woman; after all, police soon would be there
asking questions to the poor lady. So he walked to the other corpses and
squatted; a horrific work. People were certainly shot but with guns he never
met again: a new nightmare. He shook his head disgusted. The bullets upon
meeting flesh exploded inside the body to maximize the damage and the pain;
that explained the particles of flesh that painted every surface along with the
blood. This new technology not only made certain that the victim would die but
also dissolved the bullet making the discovery of the gun that was used
impossible.
He stood and made a slow twirl locating the spots from where the executioners
fired. They must have spread to every corner of the room because the wounds on
every corpse were made from different angles and the people in the dining hall
were scattered all over. He walked to each corner and albeit very faint he
could discern footprints.
Batman frowned; so faint footprints and such shoes weren’t usual. He tapped his
temple and his lenses began shooting whatever he saw. There was a strange
looking metal thing… He kneeled; that was unexpected… He pulled out from his
belt forceps and a forensic bag where he tossed the metallic thing that
probably was the jacket of the bullets, of the sum of the bullets each weapon
carried. Interesting enough it had a serial number on it. He stashed it in his
belt.
Such jackets were in every execution spot yet Batman just photographed their
serial numbers and left them for the police. He approached the beheaded bodies
and looked carefully the wounds; one clean, precise blow had severed the head
in a way that not much blood was spilt. Samurai beheaded people like this with
Katanas; the League of the Shadows used Katanas but mainly for practice, in
missions they preferred less ceremonial ways like a knife to the heart or the
kidneys. It was strange that the culprit used both automatic guns and ancient
swords; most murderers and gangs had one favorite way of killing or didn’t mix
two ways in the same job.
He took again the pincers and the bags to extract some shreds of the blade that
had remained in the cutting. His head began throbbing and his ears drumming:
well, of course this wasn’t the best way to recover or soothe a concussion. Yet
he could handle it isolating the pain and the aversion from what he was seeing.
Batman heard the sound of cars approaching; Jim and Harvey obviously decided to
mute the sirens to surprise the crime lords. Batman cocked an eyebrow; the
surprise was waiting them instead.
He stood ready to go yet Ms. Gambol’s sobs stopped him in his tracks. He closed
his eyes indecisive for an instant and turned towards her. He touched his hand
on her back.
“Ain’t ya finished?” the small but formidable old lady told him without
turning.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Gambol; I really am…” the woman turned to him; her eyes were
tearful and her weathered cheeks wet yet under the deep, desperate pain Batman
could see the granny’s sympathy. “I promise you, I’ll find who did it.”
The woman nodded.
“I know ya will, son…” she brushed her dead grandson’s hair. “My Gambi didn’t
like ya…but I know ya’r a nice block…Yar mommy must be proud…”
Her head sank in his waist and Batman clenched his teeth. Gambol was a criminal
but he didn’t want him dead…
“Did you see anything, Ms. Gambol?”
She opened her eyes and stared at Batman’s lenses as if trying to understand
the question.
She shook her head.
“My Gambi didn’t want me her’ so I waited at home; but I had a bad feelin’” she
sniffed. “I came an’ found my baby…”
Her head touched Gambol’s head and the old lady began crying again forgetting
Batman’s presence. He pressed his lips and fisted his hands. The screeching of
tires told him that police had arrived so he left the building from the back
emergency exit.
He sank in the shadows and watched squatted on a fire escape. Police followed
the usual procedure for a raid with Jim in the front line and Harvey waiting
outside for the legal part of the operation. Then Montoya came out running and
informed the DA who hurried inside. It was a matter of moments before the
forensics took over and Jim and Harvey came out supporting Ms. Gambol.
Thankfully, an ambulance always followed police’s raids, just in case, and the
poor woman was given the first aids because for an elder such a shock was
dangerous.
Jim took an initial statement from the devastated woman under Harvey’s gaze who
kept his hands on his waist. Harvey knew how to keep his coolness Batman had to
give him that.
At some point, Jim distanced himself from the police cars watching the
paramedics carrying the body bags to the ambulances that just arrived and
walked to the place where the darkness was thicker. He knew that Batman came
before them and that his ally was watching like a shadow.
Batman landed silently behind him yet Jim wasn’t startled this time.
“I’m a late bloomer yet I start learning…” Jim sighed trying to lighten his own
mood but his sadness had already established some coldness in his voice.
Batman nodded.
“Show yourself” he pierced the darkness exactly where Harvey was standing and
the young DA emerged shaking his head disappointed.
“I didn’t want to eavesdrop” he protested to Jim’s furrowed brow. “I saw you
leaving and wasn’t difficult to figure out the reason. You should have told me
to come.”
Jim rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“That’s of no importance” Batman growled.
“What do you know?” Jim asked. “You came before us, right?”
“Not much; I was delayed” he said nonchalant and both men frowned. “Some XXL
imitation of Ironman wanted to play.”
“And?” Harvey asked.
“He left Gotham with enough damages to not be a threat for the city besides I
believe that his purpose was to thwart me.”
Jim fixed his glasses.
“Still…The coronary’s first estimation about the time of death is earlier than
the set time of meeting.”
Batman nodded.
“They made the mistake to change the time probably to avoid traps from possible
leaks; yet the murderers must have watched their movements.”
Harvey shook his head thoughtful.
“So, a new player? The field is clear from the major players leaving Gotham’s
underworld open for bids.”
“This remain to be seen” Batman answered. “What matters is that the culprit has
power and resources. The weapons they used are of unseen yet technology.”
Jim crossed his arms.
“What do you think about the beheadings?”
Batman pressed his lips.
“I’m positive that they used Katanas, the traditional samurai sword and their
blows were extremely precise to be made from amateurs.”
Jim bit his lips; that was the last his city needed.
“A Japanese gang with a fetish for swords?”
“They used high tech weapons as well” Harvey gestured towards the restaurant.
Batman gave a solemn nod.
“I don’t think it’s some Japanese gang: either they are two separate gangs with
different weaponry that just allied to erase competition or…”
Jim narrowed his eyes and Batman focused his artificial gaze at him.
“Something worse.”
Harvey’s eyes widened. He was a man known for his nerves of steel but what he
saw at the restaurant shook him; definitely, he shuddered at the thought of
such a danger loose in Gotham just when everyone calmed down from Joker’s
arrest.
“What do you suspect?” Jim as worried as Harvey asked Batman determined.
“I have to investigate first” he answered and squeezed Jim’s shoulder.
Jim looked at the Dark Knight’s face and saw how clenched his jaw was.
“I’ll let you know” Batman reassured him.
Before Jim’s and Harvey’s eyes he jolted in the air and disappeared in the
shadows. Jim uncrossed his arms and made to return to the police cars.
“It’s encouraging knowing that he’s on our side” Harvey said and Jim gave him a
lopsided glance nodding.
 
Joker lay on his bed with his hands under his nape staring at the ceiling. A
nice glowing blue neon ceiling though he’d prefer purple. They kept him sedated
for how much? Around 24 hours afraid that he might escape till Stark delivered
his cell. Well…When you marry someone the last you expect from his friend as
wedding present is a high tech cell.
He had to give that to Stark: he knew how to make original gifts!
“I guesssss someone didn’t like our marriage, little gem…” he whistled. “Ugh! I
knew this friendship wasn’t pure…”
He wasn’t pissed because they had him knocked out for a whole day –the
dizziness was a bit distracting yet it reminded him of the moments he was
sucking Bruce’s taut belly…Yammy! Neither because his mate’s best friend made
him an unbreakable cell so that he never get near Brucie again: he always
wanted to be ahead of the mass and have special things and a neon blue
cell…well, it was groovy and wicked!
He was pissed, mad because they disrupted his first night with his mate; he had
sweet and gorgeous Brucie spread on the bed ready to take him and someone
snatched from him what he fought months to get. Oh! All these diversities made
him more obsessed and more aroused.
Where was now his ‘lawful wedded’ wife? Uhhh, baby! He couldn’t help but
imagine his sweet Prince lying in his king size bed wearing…mmm…nothing: he was
a fan of mother-nature after all… Completely nude…He had seen only the half of
the goodies but he was sure that the other half was equally stunning. He
imagined his baby sleeping deeply, writhing in black silk (for a reason he
connected Brucie with black, maybe because the little gem’s life was a constant
mourning), sighing with his velvety lips parting slightly and whispering
Joker’s name.
“Yuuuuup, baby! I know I drove youuu crazyyyyy! You can’t resist daddy Joker’s
made for sins body!”
He licked his lips – his unpainted lips because they removed his make up which
was another reason to be pissed that he had forgotten! And licked them again
dragging in front of his mental eyes Brucie’s naked body turning on his stomach
and bending slightly one thigh to stress his taut, protruding ass cheeks.
“Ohhhhh! Babyyyyy! You’re calling papa to lull you to sleep, huh? Oou!”
He touched something on his nape that ached; someone hit him there that night
in Dolcetto. Batman? He didn’t see who hit him yet it wasn’t exactly the Bat’s
style. He scratched his head and noticed again the gauze wrapping his palm. He
unwrapped the gauze and saw that his flesh was pierced in several spots… The
marks looked like a stiletto heel print. Interesting…Maybe he should connect
these two facts into figuring out who knocked him out before he tasted the
honey?
A woman saved Brucie? A jealous woman? Brucie, you attract women as much as
men, huh? He smirked. Too bad your birdy can’t fly… But which woman?
“He’ll die in your hands!” Rachel exclaimed.
“My baby had a difficult day and is at last asleep…Why are you soooo caring
about him? Should I be jea - lous?”
“I’m not…I…I don’t care about him…” she snapped.
Joker frowned and jumped on his bed.
“Rachel, youuuu soon of – naaaah! Again! Rachel, youuuu daughter of a bitch!
Youuuu fancy my mate aaaand you hit me!” he barked but immediately rubbed his
chin.
The stiletto marks didn’t suit Rachel – his accomplice never wore high heels
more so stiletto heels. He pouted; another woman then? Maybe Batman knocked him
out, took Brucie away from the danger and left the police arrest him. But in
the meantime a pissed woman in high heels had her way with his unconscious
body. He licked his scars.
“Mmmmm! That seems de-licious! Why youuuuu didn’t reveal yourself, baby? Jackie
likes to play with kinky girls…”
He saw Brucie opening his beautiful eyes and stare at him under his long
eyelashes with so much sweet sadness; he was almost tearful and his eyes
sparkled; the Prince folded his arms and placed his head on his naked forearms
– that arms were like pieces of art. He batted once his eyelids and pouted his
rosy lips complaining sooooo irresistibly cute.
“Nooooo, no, honey! Nobody can compare with you; youuuuu make my body spurt
electricity. Ugh! How much I want to charge you, babyyyyy!”
He wiped the sweat from his forehead and stumbled on a lump; he frowned: where
he got that? Batman? On Corolla building? Nah! He remembered every blow he took
from Batman. He pressed his mind to remember what happened that eventful night
and he huffed.
Brucie! As Joker was ready to taste the honey and raised his head, the helpless
Prince headbutted him right on the forehead. He shook his head protruding his
lips.
“Wild thing! Sooo you have fire in youuuu…” he sighed and looked around at the
blue neon barriers of his cell.
His guards at the MCU warned him that if he tried to pass the barriers he’d be
immediately knocked down; the tray with his food was passed through a special
channel. The whole blue neon barrier was formed before the normal walls and
door and judging from Stark’s evil mind surely detected his DNA reassuring that
he’d be hit even if he used an hostage – extremely difficult since his cell was
monitored with special sensors and cameras scanning constantly for any anomaly.
He gritted his teeth. He would find the solution! Someone must have some
passwords or codes to this high tech bullshit other than Stark; probably,
Gordon or good ol’ Harvey. An evil half smirk grazed his face making the scar
more profound. He cocked his eyebrows. Wherever there’s a man there is a
loophole too and wherever a loophole…Well, Jackie would have his way around…
He jumped on his jail bed and hopped.
“I waaaant DAT fire, baaaaabe! Sooon I’m gonna burn in your vol-canoe! Woah! I
must add pyromania in my portfolio: first Batman now Brucie! I looooove you
booth!”
 
Superman stood on the “Daily Planet” building’s rooftop gazing at the sky, his
cape’s flapping the only sound discerning from the white noise of the city
bellow. He had patrolled Metropolis; thankfully, his absence, his infatuation
with Bruce didn’t increase criminality in the city.
He heard light steps he knew well.
“Look who we have here!” Lois chuckled.
Superman turned smiling.
“Long time no see, stranger…” Lois continued her teasing.
Superman crossed his arms and lolled his head on the side.
“I was always here; you were gone…”
Lois laughed and moved closer.
“Right: duty call” she meant the trip in Russia. “But I heard that you made a
lot of visits to Gotham.”
Superman shrugged a shoulder.
“Gotham is Gotham and has endless needs…”
Lois raised her index finger.
“You have a point yet Gotham has Batman.”
Superman shook his head.
“I barely escaped his wrath; I was reckless” he smiled. “Are you officially
expressing Metropolis’ jealousy?”
“Superman’s good heart isn’t Metropolis’ property – we aren’t possessive…”
Good heart…Superman wanted to sigh yet held himself.
“I like the view from here” Lois said gazing at the sky “When I work till late
I come up here and look at the city and listen to Metropolis’ rhythm; here the
sounds are like a symphony.”
“Symphony?” he never thought of that.
Lois crossed her arms and winked.
“Someone with super hearing can’t appreciate the small blessings of life and of
having the human restrictions” she chuckled.
Superman smiled; he felt a heavy weight leaving his chest. Hearing Lois’ voice
and dry chuckle gave him a feeling of normalcy, of returning home after a long
journey with exhausting adventures. The Metropolis’ breeze caressed his face,
waving his stray lock on the forehead; this was his life: Metropolis’ scent,
Metropolis’ ‘voice’, Metropolis’ existence. Here he could forget and never
lapse in inferior feelings, thoughts and deeds…
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply causing Lois’ puzzlement.
“You said that you’re always here but you behave as if you were imprisoned or
exiled…”
Superman opened his eyes and looked at Lois’ smart eyes; he always liked to
look those eyes as if finding a port to escape the stormy sea. Lois was
beautiful and free of nightmares and demons; and his love for her would never
lead to violence or madness. His love of her wasn’t questioned by chemicals.
Maybe if he tried with Lois everyone would be better; he’d never feel again
those terrible emotions urging him to harm people.
Lois’ eyes were concerned.
“What is it?”
“I missed you…” he whispered. “That day in the docks seems so distant and
so…innocent, free of so many bad things.”
Lois narrowed her eyes.
“Big guy, do you make a pass on me?”
Superman yanked his head and sighed. He felt tired and maybe Bruce was right:
if he found someone else he’d continue his work as he should. Before seeing
Bruce that night at Falcone’s party he surely felt an attraction to Lois – not
as intense as for Bruce, that demanding, exploding fire that threatened to burn
everything in its path. Yet with Lois, attraction was safer…
“And if I am?” he touched her upper arms looking in her eyes which weren’t
Kryptonites weakening him.
Lois snorted.
“Girls have a soft spot for men in tights and capes…” she laughed and Superman
locked his lips with hers.
It was what Bruce wanted for him.
“Now you’ll find your true Star”
Bruce wanted the best for him and the world and maybe he had to try… So to let
Bruce free…And safe…To let himself free…To defeat the addiction… Maybe it was
meant to be: he and Bruce apart…Bruce wanted him happy; his Star would be happy
if he became happy…
He deepened the kiss and Lois followed letting his tongue invade her mouth and
using hers to welcome him. So different than Bruce’s flame of resistance; his
stubbornness, his unwillingness to surrender, to be tamed, the bite that made
him taste blood, the powerful body tensing and shaking with defiance making his
own shiver from desire. That was the result of Ra’s’ evil plan; he was an
addict craving for his killing drug.
And then he saw the sad face of Falcone’s slave on the round balcony of the
Manor; he saw again the youth’s eyes looking at him after he offered to help
him: unreadable and gorgeous like labyrinths.
“He doesn’t want yar help, Mr. Kent; his a whore!”
Chill’s brutal voice said again and he saw the horrible man grabbing Bruce’s
upper arm and dragging him away to Falcone’s bedroom; the addiction couldn’t
have been established then. And he could see bruises forming on Bruce’s
porcelain flesh from Chill’s fingers…
“Bruce…” he whispered.
Lois stopped abruptly and made a step back looking astonished at Superman.
“Bruce Wayne?” she inquired not hurt as Superman afraid but curious. “You’re in
love with Bruce Wayne!” her eyes shone triumphantly. “For that you were so
often in Gotham!”
She went silent for a moment frowning and Superman thought to run for it; he
didn’t know what to expect. Lois lolled her head, crossed her arms and narrowed
her eyes.
“Clark?”
 
Bruce inserted the serial numbers from the bullet’s jackets to his processor.
He had done some scans and the alloy was a prototype, never seen before; those
weapons were extremely dangerous and if they indeed were at the League’s hands
then they had serious problems. However what troubled him was that the serial
numbers were clear and that was unusual in gun smuggling – illegal traders hid
their trails. But which legal gun dealer would sell to a criminal group
something like this following the legitimate procedure? It was stupid and gun
dealers, legitimate or not, weren’t stupid.
So Bruce suspected that maybe the guns were legally sold to a credible buyer
like the US army and stolen from there. He inserted the serial numbers to cross
it with the database of the US Ministry of Defense where every legitimate trade
of guns was registered.
As he was waiting for the results, he read the deciphered archives about the
project ‘egis’ and called Tony through his secure wireless com.
“Master Bruce, sir, may I help you? The Avengers have repelled an attack in
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters in Sydney and they are settling some things.”
Jarvis’ artificial voice answered.
“Okay, Jarvis, thank you; if Tony is busy…”
“Never for you, buddy; just trying to settle some things with the kids here –
by the way, you have their greetings and some kisses from Lady Cobra…”
Bruce heard something like a box.
“Ouch! I mean Black Widow…”
“Shut up, Stark!”
A sexy female voice extremely irritated vibrated the line. Bruce wished his
friend could make him smile this time with his mischief.
“I’m glad you enjoy yourself, Tony.”
He discerned the sound of Tony standing from his seat and walking.
“Well, not exactly, buddy…We have some serious developments…I’ll tell you from
up close.”
Bruce felt his guts twisting and reading about the foundations and the
facilities around the world that the League had for its special army didn’t
make things better.
“Batman had a meeting with your mysterious armored opponent” he said nonchalant
yet Tony huffed.
“The bastard! I thought he took his lesson and retired! Are you OK? Of course
you are! That thin tin doesn’t have a chance!”
“Well, not so thin…” it was as if he saw Tony’s frown.
“What do you mean?”
“Better to tell you when you come back. Yet his presence in Gotham wasn’t
random.”
“Meaning?”
“The three big meeting ended up in massacre. Your friend was here to delay me
from getting there in time.”
“I’m coming, Steve – you have Dr. Banner there! Because he doesn’t speak a lot
that doesn’t mean he’s gone! Ugh! Tell me, Bruce.”
Bruce smiled.
“We can speak at the Manor. Go finish your job.”
“Okay, buddy; take some rest, huh? In Sydney is 13:00 so there must be very
late.”
“See you later, Tony.”
He just reached the point where the files of the ‘egis’ project described the
web of the facilities globally: headquarters and weaponry storages, also
foundations which with the coverage of charities bribed and manipulated
governments. And there was Miranda Tate’s foundation in Tanzania that reassured
Dagget’s Kryptonite mines; Miranda Tate seemed to have a prominent if not
leading role in the project. Bruce wondered if she had the same role in the
League as well.
The project didn’t have facilities in every country but in the center of each
continent and in the most important cities. One of them was Sydney and Bruce
couldn’t stop himself from combining it with S.H.I.E.L.D having headquarters
there; he rubbed his chin. It seemed farfetched yet he couldn’t let it
unchecked. He opened S.H.I.E.L.D.’s official page, the one for the public, and
clicked on the S.H.I.E.L.D. network: they presented the countries where their
offices were but of course not the addresses. Bruce was sure that the exact
locations weren’t given even in the secret files of the mysterious
organization.
However, the information there was enough for the moment. And what mattered and
impressed him was that S.H.I.E.L.D. had headquarters in Tanzania too. It wasn’t
clear if their headquarters were in the same city as Tate’s foundation yet the
coincidence was striking for a detective that didn’t believe in coincidences.
Bruce frowned juxtaposing S.H.I.E.L.D.’s countries of activity with those of
the ‘egis’ project: it seemed that the League of Shadows followed
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s network as a pattern to built its project’s network. And the
attack at Sydney made him suspect that the League planned to wage war
against S.H.I.E.L.D. and wanted to be in proximity with the enemy’s facilities.
What was frustrating was that in the files was no mention of the people the
project would recruit. Bruce pressed his lips; he didn’t want to work in
ignorance, he liked to know his opponents. He scratched his head; maybe the
Iron Monger was one of the special people they recruited. And obviously he had
stolen Tony’s technical mastery to reproduce the Ironman armor; and that suited
the already established tendency of copying S.H.I.E.L.D. The League had found a
way to infiltrate the organization.
The second processor beeped having finished the crossing of the serial numbers
with the Ministry’s database. Bruce’s eyes widened: the weapons were
manufactured by LEXCORP and were sold to…S.H.I.E.L.D. Again! Bruce tapped his
fingers on the bench staring at the words thinking hard.
There was a complete file with the guns' characteristics. The new shotgun
manufactured by LEXCORP defense sector was named ‘Taipan’ after the world’s
most toxic snake. This was to manifest the effectiveness of the weapon – Bruce
shivered. As this snake’s bite, shot by this gun meant certain death since its
bullets had the capacity to explode inside the body.
Bruce’s head began pulsing, a giant hammer hitting his skull in the same rhythm
with his heartbeat. He had seen what these guns were capable of. So Luthor used
his genius again in creating a monster. He shook his head and that hurt. His
stare fell on the painkillers longingly but he averted his face.
Albeit gruesome, Luthor’s weapon was legal and its sale was legitimate; he gave
every detail to the Ministry even the serial numbers on the bullet’s jackets.
So he doubted that Luthor would use the registered guns to do the restaurant
massacre: it would be a suicide. He cocked his eyebrows; and S.H.I.E.L.D.’s
methods weren’t so primitive to execute middle ranked villains AND civilians.
Also, he had evidence that the hitmen weren’t the usual assassins; their
footprints and the use of Katanas in the beheading of four of the victims vowed
for men with ninjutsu training and attire.
The League of Shadows? That added to the infiltration theory. And he had also
the fact of Luthor’s collaboration with the League…Could he have accessed
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s secrets through the weapons sale? And then informed the League
into stealing the weapons and use them in their purposes?
He shook his head in denial; even if Luthor could denounce any responsibility
for the use of his sold weapons, he certainly wouldn’t want to be in trouble
for this even if it was just a typical investigation…So plainly the League
wanted to ‘clean’ Gotham, spread terror and set up Luthor.
“Dagget was right. All these years you gave yourself free of charge, so now for
one million dollars you’ll make Luthor taste Heaven.”
Superman had said what he had heard from Dagget and Luthor. Bruce smirked;
well, he already knew what Luthor wanted from him.
“And I can teach you other things too. I can show how much pleasure you can
take from your magnificent body.”
“I can insure Wayne Enterprises and make you a true Prince. Come on, Bruce, I
know you like, you need to be dominated. At first, was abuse, rape but after
eighteen years became your existence and now you miss it…Falcone was
unappreciative; he never rewarded you for your – I’m sure – remarkable
services. But I will be generous. You don’t have to be dominated by an old man,
baby. Let me fill the void he left, Bruce…”
He took a deep breath; he hated Luthor, sure. Yet he wanted him punished for
his real crimes not these made by others…
He stood and looked his belt left carelessly on the bench. His head really
hurt… He should take the diamond from the belt and have it with him. He opened
the compartment and held lovingly the gem that was connected so much with his
life. He sighed; a 150 carats diamond wasn’t appropriate for a pendant and he
didn’t want to cut it. And he couldn’t risk not having it with him. With a
lurking demon…
He closed his eyes…As if his human enemies weren’t enough. He remembered his
mother’s jewel case – maybe he’d find a solution there. He walked to the niche
in the wall’s cave, breathing hard; those items made him live the hallucination
of his parents being still alive…
He opened the case from rose wood engraved with silver curves. There were some
jewels and a black velvet small pouch; Bruce’s eyes sparkled. He could put the
gem in there and stash the pouch in his jacket or wear it like a locket.
The black diamond fitted exactly to the pouch and Bruce tightened the cordon
making a knot. He motioned to put the pouch in his jeans pocket yet the scent
stopped him.
He recognized the perfume: it was Martha’s favorite perfume and Bruce brought
the fabric to his nose inhaling greedily. His mother’s perfume was emanating
each of his memories. Even his father’s things smell that perfume along with
his father’s. He brushed his father’s stethoscope remembering how his dad
helped him hear his own heart with that. He had ruffled his head then.
“You’ll be a great doctor, Bruce” he whispered to him “don’t tell your mother;
she’ll tell that I’m brainwashing you…”
Bruce laughed.
…mommy will never leave you…
It was as if he was once again in the Manor with them… His father making him
fly…his mother chasing him and then tickling him giggling along. Their eyes
were always sparkling with affection, with eagerness to make him laugh, to make
him happy…
His head hurt so much that his eyes filled with tears and his ears drummed.
“Don’t think that leaving you isn’t hard for me…Be happy, Bruce…Please, be
happy…”
Her voice was so sad; as her eyes; she knew that he couldn’t be happy as every
other human being. Of course he was happy having Alfred, Tony, Leslie, Selina,
Lucius, Pepper…all these people loving him: he was unbelievably lucky and he
knew it and he was grateful…Yet always there was a wheel with iron prickles
that began twirling and its burning hot prickles stabbed his guts whenever the
people around him showed their love.
Because he knew he didn’t deserve such love and the inner pain reminded him of
who he really was.
“Bring your other foot there…”
It was his father and he could see himself no more than 14 months staggering on
his trembling legs trying to balance and make his first steps.
“Put your foot on the floor, Bruce…Don’t be afraid…”
He put his foot on the floor and looked puzzled at his daddy who made with his
hands what Bruce should do with his legs. And he did it again…And he was closer
to his daddy’s open arms…But suddenly the floor left and he was falling yet
instead of crashing to the floor two soft hands grabbed him and raised him,
squeezing him in a warm chest. His mommy’s eyes smiled.
“You made it, sweetheart! Your first steps!”
He heard his daddy laughing happy and felt his hand rubbing his back
reassuringly. And while he was ready to cry because he was to fall laughed
because he was sure that his parents would never let him fall.
Bruce bit his lip so hard that bled; the wheel began stirring in his guts, in
his throbbing head. He needed to meditate to isolate the pain yet he didn’t
want.
“Are you afraid of heights?” Superman had asked him softly after he saved him
from Flass.
The man of steel had cleaned his wounds, wrapped him in his cape and taken him
in his arms to return him to the Manor. He hadn’t spoken, just nestled his face
in the hero’s chest.
 “Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall…” Superman thought that he was scared of
the flight and tightened more his hold on him; Bruce had felt his heart
relaxing.
“Bruce, I can wait for you as long as you need me to… It’s not just a… carnal
desire, please believe me. I love you.”
Bruce chuckled; it was a lie from the beginning and deep inside he knew it and
let himself indulge in it.
“Do you think I wanted to fall for a CHEAP WHORE?!”
Clark was enraged then, under the fire of the chemical induced desire yet he
told the truth; a truth he would never utter in normal conditions. Nobody could
love someone like him… Bruce could only cause desire, arousal and a wish to
take him brutally, painfully…
He touched his aching forehead to the cold cave wall. He saw through the
trembling camera of the news Superman kissing Lois Lane hovering in the sky of
Metropolis’ docks. Without the force of a powerful substance. Superman loved
only Lois. And he was right. Lois was beautiful, intelligent, dynamic, brave,
cheerful…clean…unspoiled…whole.
He yanked his head to the ceiling seeking his companions. They weren’t here,
they were outside doing what they should; as he should stop thinking these
bullshit and return to work. He didn’t care about love; he wouldn’t let anyone
touch him because only people like Luthor would ever approach him to have their
way with a cheap whore; no decent person would want a ruined being like him.
Superman almost died because of him…
His head was throbbing worse and he cursed himself for lapsing in this
pointless, nonsense path. He should return to work: Ms. Gambol’s pain as she
held her dead grandson was heartbreaking and stressed to him his
responsibility; as Richard’s angry eyes that hid two desperate tearful eyes
asking for the reality to be changed. You can’t indulge in self pity and
whining…
He brushed the black diamond over the velvet pouch and tried to meditate to
focus on his job. Yet he couldn’t; that pain and that drum was so distracting
and sounded like all the curses and jeers he heard in his entire life…and
Falcone’s, Chill’s, Ra’s’, Bane’s brutal voices completed each other letting
one to tower them.
“CHEAP WHORE! I’ll find my real Star now…”
He needed to drink not to meditate. In the hopes that this time the booze won’t
fuel the emotions and the pain but numb them…
He looked at the lift; he couldn’t drink in the Manor because the omnipresent
Alfred would catch him, stop him and…he’d make the kind man disappointed and
worried though there wasn’t a reason to worry just he wanted to drink a bit.
Thankfully, he already wore jeans and a white, plain T-shirt; he also had a
black leather jacket here with a wallet full of cash. He put it on, shoved the
pouch with the Black Butterfly in the secret inside pocket and headed for the
parking, his need, his wish and his guilt for abandoning his work battling each
other. Add the domineering pain and the only thing he wanted was just to shut
down.
 
Tony entered the Manor from the main entrance though he’d love to startle his
buddy landing inside the Batcave…Who was kidding? There was no chance he’d
startle Bruce: he had security surveillance and he was a damn ninja. So better
use the most traveled road and the lift…Also he wanted a good shower and maybe
some cuddling with Pepper…He cocked an eyebrow; probably, a kick in his ass for
waking her up. She was pissed at him pestering Bruce.
Alfred met him in the stairs and Tony didn’t find it weird because Al never
slept if Bruce was awake which was very tiresome – he knew. The man was poised
as ever yet there was a shadow.
“What’s up, Al? Little guy tortures you again?”
“Hardly, sir; he isn’t even here.”
Tony frowned and scratched his nape.
“But he called me two hours ago and said that he had things to tell me when I’d
come back. Maybe an emergency came up and Batman was needed?”
Alfred shook his head in denial.
“The Tumbler and his armor are in the cave.”
“Maybe he went to his spying excursions?”
“I strongly doubt it, Master Anthony; he wouldn’t have taken the remarkable but
not at all discreet car you gave him.”
Now Tony was shaken but still kept his coolness.
“Don’t worry, Alfred” though Alfred knew how to cover his emotions Tony could
discern the signs. “He is the best trained man on earth” well, yes, but while
Bruce Wayne he couldn’t manifest that; Alfred’s eyes were very talkative. “And
in the car he is safe; nothing can harm him there” he hastened to reassure the
older man and himself.
Alfred nodded saying silently ‘if he stay in the car’.
“That concussion and the drugs that man gave him cause nasty things: those
rapid mood changes, those outbursts…Is like all the pain and the emotions have
been unleashed and that incident with Superman just deteriorate things even
though Master Bruce keeps everything inside…And, Master Anthony, we’re all the
time demanding things from him; Master Bruce must feel suffocating…” he shook
his head. “He is just liberated from Falcone and everyone still poses demands
even dictated by our love and concern.”
Tony swallowed. Taking the sleek car and vanishing into the night definitely
wasn’t Bruce’s style and Alfred was right: they constantly imposed things on
him and Bruce tolerated that because he loved them. But now after the head
injury and the psychotropic drugs his patience must be short… And his reactions
sudden and unpredictable. He immediately activated his armor except the face
plate.
“I’ll be right back, Al with the runaway kid; unless, he is just enjoying
himself safely in which case I’ll join him” he arched his eyebrows. “I have a
tracking system on the car and I’ll find him ASAP. Piece of cake!”
He walked back to the main entrance and took off, Alfred watching having
followed him. He sighed because he knew that with his young master nothing was
a ‘piece of cake’.
 
***** Chapter 55 *****
“You’re Clark, right?” Lois insisted staring at him.
Superman shook his head crossing his arms; Lois’ shining eyes told him that she
couldn’t be fooled and frankly his anger was at himself for uttering Bruce’s
name in such a betraying way. It was his fault; he was stupid. His old time
friend kept her eyes on his face and her head lolled on the side.
“This is how you got those exclusives; you were using your super hearing
to…eavesdrop!” Clark wanted the earth to open and swallow him.
Lois nodded.
“Of course, a reporter often uses all means to reveal the truth but
eavesdropping isn’t exactly what I’d have expected from a boy scout or Clark
Kent. And now I understand how you managed to capture Batman in video… Well?”
she yanked her head. “I should be insulted that you didn’t trust me enough to
tell me the truth after so many years of friendship.”
Superman locked his eyes with hers; there was no reason to continue this game
with Lois. She was right. She had proven to him either as Superman or as Clark
that she was trustworthy; that she could keep his secret even with her own
life.
“It was never a matter of trust, Lois.”
“Then?”
Clark pressed his lips.
“I didn’t want to endanger you” he arched his brows “knowing my secret identity
would have made you a target for my enemies.”
Lois arched her eyebrows.
“Because being saved and kissed in public by Superman isn’t provocative enough,
huh?”
Superman ruffled his hair.
“I guess you’re right…”
“And you just kissed me again, farm boy” her eyes flared up. “Did you plan to
have an affair with me keeping your identity secret?”
Superman blushed; he didn’t exactly think about that.
“I…”
Lois pressed her lips, shook her head and laughed.
“You’re so talkative with Bruce too?” she narrowed her eyes. “Since you’re in
love with him why you made a pass on me?”
He clenched his waist, shook his head and sighed; officially, he messed things
up.
“For start, I…” he couldn’t say blatantly that he wasn’t in love with Bruce
“it’s not certain that I’m in love with him – it’s too complex.”
Lois nodded looking at him with a gaze full of disbelief.
“With you things are plainer…”
She lolled her head purging her lips.
“I don’t know if I like being ‘plainer’…”
“I mean that we were always friends, I always felt nice being with you – there
was always some attraction.”
She shook her head.
“Yes, but this isn’t love while I guess with Bruce things are different.
Right?”
Superman yanked his head; he managed to make things worse: how could he explain
to Lois?
“My enemies already used Bruce to destroy me; this…thing I felt for him seems
to be chemically induced.” Lois’ eyes widened. “They knew that I’d be touched
by his tragedy and applied some substance to him that would make me…” he
inhaled “addicted to him, slowly killing me.”
Lois crooked her lips disgusted.
“Falcone?”
Clark didn’t want to tell her about Ra’s Al Ghul because Lois would easily
suspect the truth about Bruce.
“No but Falcone had collaborators more dangerous than him.”
Lois nodded understanding.
“You don’t want to give me details to protect Bruce; that’s honorable. And
you’re still under the effect?”
“No; Lucius Fox and Stark made an antidote which I took…”
“But?”
He flushed.
“My body doesn’t react as before” he gestured to the air “but still I feel
things for him.”
“Still you kissed me…”
Superman shook his head; he was ashamed for his behavior: he tried to use Lois.
No, not use…He believed that with Lois would be real.
“Bruce told me that the most enduring addiction is the mind’s and it needs more
time to be cured…”
Lois crossed her arms.
“I’ve heard that…”
“So what I feel for you seemed the real thing…so I let those feelings for you
lead me…to cure that damn effect and restore reality.”
Lois pressed her lips; her eyes were kind and understanding. Yet she chuckled
and shook her hand nervously.
“So I’m Superman’s rehabilitation? But this…” she smiled “addiction seems very
resisting.” She shrugged. “Maybe this…’addiction’ isn’t just an addiction?
Bruce is extremely traumatized: I think that for him it’s ‘easier’ to believe
that your feelings is only the result of those chemicals than that he is truly
loved by someone. I can imagine his panic realizing that someone powerful as
Superman wants to touch him…”
Superman averted his eyes from her uncomfortable and she followed him frowning,
searching what more he was hiding. He closed his eyes.
“I attacked him, Lois! Under the influence, before I took the antidote, I tried
to…”
Lois goggled and couldn’t help but huff.
“My Goodness! Clark…”
“Fortunately, I didn’t hurt him; I didn’t know what was happening to me then…He
didn’t hold a grudge on me…”
“Poor thing…He is used to be attacked…” she bit her lips looking Superman’s
hurt stare. “No, no…I didn’t mean that you’re like them and Bruce knows that
you’d never do this weren’t for the substance. He knows who Superman is?”
He could lie but he didn’t want. He nodded.
“During all this madness and connecting some dots…”
Lois smirked.
“He is smart not that I had any doubt…”
Superman brought his eyes on her face; Lois was very beautiful though her
strong personality sometimes shadowed this.
“Are you angry with me?”
She frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I feel like this for Bruce.”
She chuckled amused.
“I’d have been angry if you moved with me and tried to fool me: in this case,
you tried to fool yourself. Besides if we were to have something more it’d have
happened long before you met Bruce. So it’s not like Bruce ‘stole’ Superman
from me…And…Clark is like a brother to me: how could I see his other self as
lover?” she chuckled. “I don’t want to be a candidate for schizophrenia…”
Clark could breathe a bit easier; he didn’t want to hurt Lois in any way. Yet
she was more practical than him.
“What are you going to do now?” she asked warmly.
He sighed.
“Wait; is there anything else I can do?”
 
Obadiah stared at the giant Iron Monger armor; his teeth were gritted as he
registered every damage Batman caused. Fortunately, the enormous workshop -
warehouse Talia gave him was near Gotham so his back up energy was enough to
bring him back otherwise he’d have crashed and arrested.
He clenched his hands: that bastard! How he knew all these about his armor’s
functioning? All his strikes were precise. The Bat knew how Ironman’s armor
worked and thus his own.
The sight of his precious armor – his pride – was pathetic! Wrinkled, sooty,
half burned where those damn bat-bombs hit him, the gun systems protruding but
useless… Lame! A Goliath humiliated by David!
And the worse was that he wasn’t able to wound the fucking Bat! He danced and
flew and just avoided his fires or vanished in the dark only to counterattack.
Obadiah wanted to yell and cry from frustration; he thought that beating the
Bat with his masterpiece would be easy, that Batman would rat out seeing an
opponent so enormous and with such firepower.
But the Bat didn’t have any sense of fear; he didn’t flinch once on the
contrary he acted with self confidence and certainty. He knew how this thing
worked and if Obadiah wanted to beat that annoying pest and Stark should find
new tricks. He didn’t give a damn about that creepy woman’s plans to destroy
Gotham and get Wayne but his part on the scheme was to take out Stark and
Batman to leave Wayne unprotected; Talia would give him the Stark Industries
when she got what she wanted.
Yet he preferred the option where he neutralizes Stark and gets the Industries,
while the arrogant bitch fails and ends up in jail. Maybe he’d take care of
that after securing Stark’s death…
He felt the alloy of the armor and shook his head, planning how to repair the
armor and what adjustments to make.
Slow, confident steps and a loud snort startled him; the warehouse had an
excellent alarm system not to mention guards. Unless… He turned and as he
expected, his…raven haired partner was there strolling towards him.
She wandered the tower of Iron Monger with an eyebrow cocked and finally let
out a loud chuckle. Obadiah felt his cheeks going red hot from embarrassment
and anger.
“Is this the result of your ‘epic’ battle with Batman?” her sarcasm was
poisonous yet her amusement was lost. “Is this what you managed with the
precious information I gave you?”
Obadiah walked furious and stopped right before her. He was taller than her,
towering her yet her eyes were challenging and ironic. And that fueled his
anger and disappointment yet he wasn’t so dumb to attack her to erase that
smugness. So he just clenched his teeth and fisted his hands which caused just
another cocked eyebrow.
“Exactly! He knew also how Ironman’s armor works and used it to drive me
dysfunctional. Ironman worked with Batman in some occasions so the sneaky Bat
stole his tech know- how in order to have a way to beat him! He was well
prepared!”
Talia purged her lips and looked at him with mock innocent wonder.
“That was also expected from you… I grand you access to Ironman’s secrets yet
I’d expected that you would have the intelligence to make some changes…” she
frowned. “You didn’t?”
Stane yanked his head with his wrath overflowing his eyes.
“Of course I did, lady! Does this” he gestured to Iron Monger “seem like
Ironman to you?”
She shrugged.
“No. This screwed up, sooty, miserable, overlarge tin scarecrow definitely
doesn’t seem like Ironman…” she snorted, crossed her arms and strut to the
armor.
Obadiah rubbed his forehead and wiped some sweat there.
“I made Iron Monger huge, scary, with more weapon systems than Stark’s armor
and used alloy that doesn’t attract magnetic bombs.”
Talia nodded without turning towards him and focused her eyes to the signs of
explosions on various spots of the armor.
“I see that…” her dry voice vibrated with sarcasm.
“You don’t understand!” he said desperately and Talia turned to him raising her
eyebrows in disbelief. “A monster of 7’5’’ and 4,500 lbs that jumps and flies
is a formidable enemy that scares every potential opponent.”
Talia leaned towards him and Stane felt the stabs of her steely black eyes.
“Only if your opponent is masses of civilians or incompetent soldiers because
otherwise, Obadiah, despite what some men believe” she made her voice a whisper
“size isn’t the only thing that matters. When you want to compete with
opponents like Batman or Ironman you need more.”
She pointed with her eyes to the marks from the exploding Batarangs.
“The Bat is not a human!” he snapped. “You should have seen the way he moved,
the way he avoided my hits and bullets, the way he disappeared.”
She shrugged.
“You might have a point there…” she uttered completely unfazed. “Yet this is no
excuse for your pitiful performance.”
She walked slowly to the back side of the armor and brushed the lower end of
the slash Batman had done to the metallic giant; Talia could imagine Batman
nailed on Iron Monger’s back without any fear, calculating and using his blades
to wound the monster.
Stane couldn’t see her behind the huge mass. He was so angry that he couldn’t
hide it nor he wanted to; his breath was uneven and his fisted hands trembled
but Talia’s words caused also worry in him: if she considered him a useless
ally nothing could stop her from dispose of him.
When his eyes refocused Stane jumped startled; Talia was standing in front of
him. He expected to hear again her chuckle but instead she was totally serious
and her icy, still eyes glimmered.
“You’re an unworthy opponent for Batman” she uttered coldly and Stane irritated
discerned a kind of admiration in her voice. “You’re unable even to control
your emotions…At least, you managed to delay him.”
This definitely wasn’t praise yet Stane felt slightly better.
“Focus on Stark instead.”
She passed him and Stane didn’t turn to watch her leave; he waited, heard the
door opening and closing again and walked closer to his masterpiece. He raised
his hand and caressed Iron Monger with his eyes sad and disappointed like a
parent whose child failed to pass the exams but he was willing to give it
another chance.
 
Tony after one hour of pointless floating and hovering over Gotham landed on a
rooftop; he deactivated his face plate and huffed. He was frustrated, pissed
and worried. He waited to hear something good from Jarvis but simultaneously he
was positive that it was impossible.
Why you did that, Bruce?
“You enjoy the view, pretty boy?” a seductive female voice addressed him but
although he’d have smiled in any other case Tony didn’t even turn.
That was suspicious and Catwoman needed nothing else. She hurried to him.
“What’s the matter, Tony?”
Tony acknowledged her.
“I can’t find Bruce” he finally uttered what was tormenting him with gradually
increasing intensity; he didn’t call Alfred to not panic him though he was sure
that the butler figured out.
Selina coughed.
“We know he’s not easy to find…” she arched her eyebrow suggestively meaning
Batman.
Tony shook his head.
“He went out dressed casually” he stressed the last word “and with the car I
gave him as a present.”
Selina frowned.
“I’m positive you took special care to ensure that you’ll be able to locate the
car?”
Tony nodded and cursed.
“Of course! Yet both I and Jarvis are unable to locate the car, as if the brat
kicked us out!” Selina chuckled. “It’s not funny, Sel; my tracking system is
disabled and I used data from different satellites but he made his car a ghost!
It’s outrageous!”
Selina crossed her arms.
“Or ingenious…”
Tony sighed and ran his hand through his locks.
“No doubt there. And he didn’t take his smartphone with him and disabled the
signal his father’s watch emanates.”
Selina nodded understanding.
“He wanted to disappear.”
Tony sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Exactly!”
“And you’re afraid despite the fact he knows how to protect himself.”
He shook his head.
“He is in civilian and he suffers from a head injury, damn it! He should be
home resting not roaming that shithole doing who knows what! The ‘big three’
were murdered and the underworld must be in turbulence: definitely, not the
place for Bruce Wayne to be! And…” he swallowed remembering Thor’s words about
the demon-stalker “he is under threat – we know that” he didn’t want to tell
Selina about the supposed demon, besides he didn’t know a lot himself. “What if
he collapses? He has neglected his recovery.”
Selina stared at the city bellow.
“Bruce is used to have his escape route to freedom…even when he was captive he
had his caves where he could be free even for a few hours…” she said
melancholic without turning her gaze.
Tony inhaled and yanked his head.
“We just tried to protect him!”
Selina looked at him and smiled.
“I know and I’m sure he knows too and appreciates that yet…” she shook her head
“he is a wild, untamed being and even with love you just can’t restrain him.
And with that head injury messing with him things must be really overwhelming
some times. Not to mention” she arched his eyebrows “that he’ll consider
tonight’s murders his fault…”
Tony pressed his palms over his face.
“Ugh! Bruce! Why don’t you just open up?!”
Selina placed her hand on his shoulder.
“We’ll find him.”
“How? You said that nobody can find him if he doesn’t want to and I experienced
that” he nodded in emphasis. “And tonight he doesn’t want to be found.”
Selina lolled her head to the side and half smiled.
“My specialty is finding precious things, handsome…” she winked. “Keep
searching and I’ll call you…”
Tony watched amazed as she dived to the void with an elegant layout flip ending
with a pike and couldn’t help but wonder where that girl learnt all these.
 
“You got no place her’, kid” the sturdy, bearded barman mumbled to the customer
occupying the corner stool of the bar.
The brunette yanked his head mock puzzled and looked around; the bar was dimly
lit like every other of its kind with the pink neon sign of ‘bar’ on the wall
yet you could discern the unfriendliness over the features of the few shady
customers who still hung at the place. In the opposite corner of the counter
another man was seated deep in the shadows sipping vodka.
He returned to gaze again at the barman who seemed rather impatient and purged
his lips.
“I see no kid…” he shrugged, took his square glass and downed the remaining
scotch.
The barman narrowed his eyes.
“I know who you are an’ I assure you that everyone else her’ knows too. So,
believe me, better run” he didn’t lean closer and moved his lips barely so the
others won’t understand that he spoke to his unusual customer. “You’re sheep
among hungry wolves…”
Bruce stared for a moment at the man, reading instantly under his rough
features that he was honest. Yet he didn’t want to leave, he wasn’t scared; he
felt at ease here.
“Sheep…” he chuckled; if only the bartender knew… “Another scotch!”
The man rolled his eyes.
“You realize wher’ you are, lad?” he asked exasperated.
He smiled.
“I believe so…”
The bartender placed his hands on the counter and leaned to the youth.
“This is The Docks, boy” he stressed every letter locking eyes with his
customer. “If you want to drink, ther’ are many clubs of your status in Uptown
wher’ you’ll be safe.”
Bruce lowered his eyes to the battered wood of the counter and took an
impatient breath tapping his fingers.
“I like it here!”
“They’d be very happy to scarf Falcone’s boy” the poor man struggled to keep
his voice whispering despite his anger at the stupid youth. “You understand
what I mean or you’re already whacked?”
Bruce rubbed his forehead closing his eyes; of course he understood and this
made his heart kick from anger. Everywhere, even in the Docks, in a shady bar
he still stirred pity; he just wanted to be left alone: it was so hard?
“C’me on, boy” the man said softly obviously taking his reaction as fear on the
realization of the danger. “Call your Iron buddy to take you home; I’m sure he
knows many places to get a drink safely.”
Bruce pulled out of his jacket his black leather wallet – another remnant of
his father -, took two bills of hundred dollars and put them on the counter
piercing the man with his glare.
“I said a scotch! I’m of age, I pay cash and I don’t think that you’ll call the
police to take me; cops in the Docks aren’t welcomed and you don’t want
business with them. So…”
The man shook his head making his pony tail sway and moved to fill Bruce’s
glass again casting fleeting glances at his clientele which watched the youth
through sideways gazes pretending to chat.
“You’ll bring the pigs her’! Alright” he nodded angry. “When they’d look for
your dead body!”
Bruce smirked and shrugged.
“I strongly doubt that” he downed half of his drink at once and the barman
frowned with his easiness.
“Tell me you got four bodyguards waitin’ at your car…” he arched an eyebrow and
Bruce gulped the rest of his scotch.
He chose this bar because he knew the drinks were clean and the owner, the
bartender, never put drugs on his customers’ drinks – they had to bring their
own. Coming here Bruce hoped that he’d escape a bit from his world and himself:
his feelings and thoughts – to make everything retreat, leave him alone. For a
bit; because he knew that after everything would stay the same; it was stupid,
he knew, to use booze to escape but for once he wanted to slip…
His head still throbbed like a distant drum yet the feelings that tormented him
were stashed somewhere and seemed like they belonged to someone else… still
influencing him as when you watch a movie and sympathize with the characters –
he had watched movies with Tony when he went to Malibu. Tony… He hoped that he
and Alfred wouldn’t notice his absence or at least they wouldn’t worry about
him. He could defend himself after all…
He stood and walked to the small bathroom; it was surprisingly clean for the
Docks’ standards. He opened the faucet and washed his face; the wall over the
sinks didn’t carry a mirror which was much appreciated. He clenched the sink
with both hands; he had drunk four double scotches that didn’t manage to
obscure his reasoning, his balance or the wheel of hot iron in his guts.
Perhaps if he had some more…
He wiped his hands on the towel. A sudden, sharp sound drew his attention to
the door and he saw the lock turning on its own. He narrowed his eyes and
walked there completely calm; the door was locked but from inside though nobody
was there with him. Immediately his mind went to the black gem in his pocket
but before his hand moved a furious force carried him away like a wave and
crashed him to the wall.
A powerful yet gentle hand cupped his head protecting it from the impact like a
pillow. However a body pinned him to the wall without permitting him any
movement; Bruce felt a tall and wide torso crushing his back and the rest of
the attacking body blocked his pelvis and legs. He kept his coolness though he
could imagine whom he was facing.
A wet mouth breathed hot in his ear and two hands pulled his jacket to the
elbows to brush his shoulder blades and deltoids. Bruce could count the breaths
and the vibrations of the body pinning him.
“How many hands do you have?” he snorted the last thing that someone in his
place would say to his attacker.
A rattling laugh answered him.
“As many as I want to keep you still and peak you pleasure…” his thick like
rubber tongue licked Bruce’s cheek.
He tried to push him off but his attacker was unyielding and wrapped another
hand around his waist.
“Stop fighting, Bruce” he whispered sensually in his ear. “I know why you came
here…”
Bruce gritted his teeth and jolted yet the creature pushed him on the wall,
always protecting his wounded head from impact.
“You might have managed to escape me the other time but every time I come close
to you I’m getting stronger…” he breathed hard burning Bruce’s ear with wet,
hot desire. “I found what I had lost for centuries, what I was searching for
generations and generations…”
Bruce turned his eye towards the face he came to know so well.
“I’m not Lilith’s descendant; you’re mistaken” he said throaty.
He heard the satisfied huff and saw the edge of a smile.
“So you know who I am; I knew you’d remember our couplings!”
Bruce grunted.
“No, you idiot! I just searched the net!” he snapped and Bagdana pushed him
more to the wall causing a pained huff.
Bagdana’s lips wandered his jaw line while two of his hands roamed his torso
under the T-shirt while his wrists were immobilized by two other hands.
“I know you had the mark…”
“I don’t!” he retorted hardly because his lungs were squeezed.
“You miss your left toe; there was your mark and some foolish men cut it! I’ll
make them suffer for it…”
“You can’t touch them…”
“Because they’re dead?” he laughed. “My power exceeds realms. Let me
exterminate your enemies, let me protect you, let me remind you what we had…”
The demon’s hands explored his breasts and abdominals at the same time, rubbing
his nipples and using his huge nails to tickle pleasantly his taut flesh
creating goose bumbs. Bruce clenched his teeth and pushed back to gain some
space to attack.
“I don’t want to!”
Yet Bagdana roared and covered him with his body squeezing him to the wall.
“You came here to find someone to fill you…It’s been five months since your
body was last fucked” he whispered in Bruce’s ear. “Your body learnt to be
taken, to be used carnally; eighteen years, from your most tender years. You
hate it but your body needs it and demands it…You’re thirsty, Bruce; your
gorgeous body wants to be worshipped…”
Bruce didn’t agree with that.
“Let me go!”
“So you came here hoping that someone would force you again, would fill and
satisfy you. But you know that nobody from this useless scum can do that;
you’re too perfect for them. Deep inside you know that I am the only one who
can give you what you deserve; satisfy you more than you ever dreamt…” some of
his hands dived under his jeans groping his genitals and buttocks.
Bruce felt suffocating; his heartbeat increasing fuelling his headache and the
hotness from the alcohol in his cheeks.
“No!” he convulsed and shook his head only to be pressed more to the wall with
a hardening penis rubbing his buttocks.
“I saw you coming to this bar, walking graciously and confidently under the
silver light of the full moon and it was like seeing again her…She was the
mistress of the night like you. Beautiful, enchanting and powerful…I watched
you fighting with that giant of metal…” his tongue grazed Bruce’s ear and then
the corner of his lips.
Bruce clenched his teeth as Bagdana’s tongue entered his mouth and felt how
solid this tongue was and how poisonous; he tried to control his breath that
instantly became faster from the toxin. Bagdana hastened to remove his tongue
and caressed Bruce’s locks.
“You’re still afraid of me…”
Bruce shied desperately but his effort was again thwarted and he closed his
eyes.
“I’m not afraid of you! I don’t want you to touch me!”
But the demon began nibbling the nape of his neck moaning.
“Your scent…Powerful as then…Enchanting…Like the midnight rain that steals the
perfume of the blossoming roses…”
Bruce huffed and jerked his head.
“I’m not your mate!”
“You are, child; you are Lilith who came back after the circle was completed;
and I didn’t realize the first time I saw you in the caves…But Al Ghul’s
greediness and arrogance gave you to me and doomed him. Lilith’s descendant
punished the descendant of the man who slaughtered her.”
“I didn’t!” his head felt like exploding and he closed his eyes grunting.
Bagdana enveloped Bruce’s ear in his mouth and blew gently filling Bruce’s head
with tranquility, every trace of pain or sadness gone.
“I can give you the bliss of oblivion…” he breathed sensually. “You won’t feel
pain ever again…”
“Liar!”
The hands that never stopped groping his buttocks and genitals ceased. Only one
hand caressed his cheek tenderly.
“I know…you’re right to not believe me. The first time I copulated with you I
was so carried away that caused you unimaginable pain…I almost killed your
fragile body…The second time I was again brutal, hasty forgetting that you were
a child” Bruce was breathing hard yet no tormenting flashbacks flooded him.
“But I’ll be gentle, Bruce…” his length poked at the human’s anus and Bruce
began shaking “you won’t feel any pain…” two hands grabbed Bruce’s hips and
began spreading him.
“I said no!” Bruce roared and felt the diamond in his pocket vibrating.
Bruce managed to free his hand and sank his elbow to the creature’s guts that
were oddly vulnerable. Bagdana huffed shocked not only because of Bruce’s
escape but also from the pain he felt; he wasn’t supposed to feel any pain
especially from a human.
Bruce reading his attacker’s surprise stepped on his toes with all his
strength, gave a back kick to his rock hard penis and gritting his teeth
grabbed his neck and smacked his head to the tiled wall. He let the demon fall
making a step back.
He was still rasping yet his fists were clenched and his eyes glared at his
fallen attacker, glimmering from anger. He was surprised to see that this time
the demon had a totally human form; he frowned: he was the other customer
sitting at the counter. 6’ 4’’ tall, muscle bound, with silver gray hair that
fell under his ears, his eyes had a chestnut color that bordered with their
usual blood red. He had an elegant nose.
Bagdana sprawled more on the floor, totally relaxed and began laughing
revealing pearly white teeth; his face actually lit from the laughter. His eyes
locked with Bruce’s.
“Like the good old days, my Lilith… When we fought for hours before uniting
desperately for days and nights over the sky and deep in the volcanoes! Yet I
won’t let you fight me again till you remember and follow me…”
Bruce smirked, snorted and turned his back walking slowly to the door under the
fascinated stare of the demon. He unlocked the door and fixed his jacket.
He didn’t sigh in relief getting to the screechy music of bar hall he just
ordered another scotch and the bartender looked him puzzled.
“You’ve drunk too much, kid” he mumbled and Bruce stared impatiently through
some locks that stayed astray after the encounter with Bagdana.
“Give the boy what he wants” a cool, amused voice intervened and Bruce saw his
demon seated at his corner smiling evilly.
The bartender frowned and hurried to serve the drink.
Just when Bruce took his glass and began drinking Bagdana stood and walked to
him occupying the seat beside him. He leaned on Bruce.
“They’re ready to jump you…all of them” he whispered in his ear pointing to the
unfriendly customers with the corner of his eye.
“Really now?” he raised an eyebrow and downed the liquid.
“I can get you out of here safely…to my penthouse…”
Bruce snorted.
“I guess you don’t pay taxes for that…” he jeered without looking at him.
“Bruce, don’t be stupid…” he pushed his body on the young man.
Bruce gritted his teeth; he didn’t feel any pain and nothing else except anger.
He pushed with both his hands on the demon’s chest and tossed him to the
opposite wall. He jerked on his feet with his eyes flaring up.
“Go away!”
Suddenly every man in the bar stood and stared at Bruce with glowing and hungry
eyes ready to attack him. Bagdana smirked.
 
Tony landed in a secluded alley in the Docks. His present to Bruce, the black,
sleek car lay gorgeous and calm in front of him. Selina had sent him the
coordinates; this girl really had a knack for finding precious things. He hoped
that she was as good in finding the animate as the inanimate.
He looked around though his sensors already told him that Catwoman wasn’t
there; perhaps, she had located Bruce already?
He grinded his teeth and roared: he was really angry with the little guy! He
approached the car shaking his uncovered head – his wrath made it hard to
tolerate the face plate. He caressed the seductive curves of the front ending
up to the threatening and riveting lights; he remembered the way Bruce’s eyes
shone with child-like enthusiasm and joy seeing the car.
He had felt so proud of himself then for giving such joy to his buddy. He
huffed and shook his head, exasperation taking over affection rapidly.
“You left the car in an alley in the Docks from all places! Leslie must see
your head again, buddy!”
He touched his thumb for the system to recognize him and open the door yet he
saw with shocked eyes the red light of denied access.
“Jarvis, why I can’t enter the car?”
“Because you are blocked, sir” Jarvis answered him casually and with some
amusement if Tony’s ears didn’t fool him.
Tony cocked his eyebrows.
“At least, he secured the car…EVEN FROM ITS OWN CREATOR!” he yelled at the
empty alley kicking the wheel which made him howl because the material wasn’t
the usual tire.
 
Bagdana stayed slumped on the floor with his hand hanging loose between his
legs; his eyes which now became again blood red were still on Bruce’s defensive
stance. He smiled.
“I can protect you from them” he whispered inside Bruce’s head “ask me to…”
“I don’t need your protection!” Bruce snapped defiantly.
Bagdana’s eyelids covered his eyes lustful: Bruce’s defiance made his desire
explode.
One of the patrons grabbed a bottle and smashed it on the table turning the
pointy edges at Bruce threateningly. Yet it was the bartender who flinched.
Bruce half smiled with his eyes piercing the guy whose confusion for the sex
toy’s stance was evident till he blamed it to the booze.
“We’re gonna have som’ fun, pretty…”
“You are going to show them who you really are?” Bagdana asked amused. “Huh,
little Bat?”
Bruce pressed discreetly his watch’s cadran and immediately every light went
off causing exclamations of surprise from the men.
“Sorry, boys” a playful female voice filled the silence and some surprised
yells of pain answered “this lost puppy is mine!”
Bagdana could see into the thick darkness Catwoman grabbing Bruce’s hand and
taking him with her out of the bar. He rose slowly and stretched his posture
watching his mate; he sighed.
“Alluring as the Stars, elusive as the moon’s silver…Like your great-
grandmother…”
He could lash out against the men who dared to long for Bruce; they were
looking around stupidly as the lights returned. Yet he wasn’t in the mood for
punishment, for blood; he craved for his mate, years had passed from the last
time and ages since Lilith was with him…He conjured a hundred dollar bill and
gave it to the bartender who was still stunned.
Selina dragged Bruce in one of the alleys created by the warehouses near the
bar. Nobody followed them; she scanned the road behind them. And then a sound
she never heard before made her frown and turn slowly where Bruce stood.
Her eyes widened; her friend was laughing completely calm and undeterred from
their escape. Was Bruce boozy?
“You didn’t have to pick me up! Mommy!”
His voice was completely stable yet the tone wasn’t the usual; Bruce sounded in
high spirits.
“I’m too young to be your mommy, buster!” she answered lolling her head pissed;
they were sick of worry for him and he was cheerful! “And how you’d have left
the place unscathed?! Seriously, Bruce” she shook her head exasperated “the
Docks?!” her eyes locked with his.
“Is the only place I feel comfortable” he answered poised and Selina was sorry
to see his eyes returning to the usual melancholic shine and his voice to
solemnity. “And I’d have evaded all of them.”
Selina clenched her waist and nodded; damn! She wanted to hear him cheerful
again… Yet her inquire was serious.
“You were willing to beat them?” she arched her eyebrows “Tomorrow the Docks
would buzz with Bruce Wayne beating ten thugs! For pity’s sake!”
Bruce stared at her and his eyes’ bitterness hurt Selina.
“And who would have believed them?” he stressed every word and seeing his
friend sad instead of pissed, buried the bad feelings that tried to claim him
and laughed letting the liquor take over. “I don’t think that they’d want to
admit that pitiful, miserable Bruce Wayne beat them…”
Selina came closer to him and looked him carefully.
“How are you?”
“I’ve never been better…” only a bit dizzy and numb but it was pleasant, so
pleasant.
Selina read between the lines and pressed her lips.
“Tony is waiting…” she said and patted him on the back.
“Tony?” he answered following her; he believed that Tony’s work would have kept
him away till morning.
Selina nodded.
“He couldn’t find you…He was very worried and…pissed.”
Bruce remembered what he had done to the car and chuckled; of course, Tony
would be pissed. Yet he was so happy to see Tony…
“It’s not funny…” she gritted her teeth. “He waits us at the car.”
And Bruce remembered the other thing he did to the car and momentarily felt
embarrassed but then it seemed so hilarious that he laughed again.
“But he did find it in the end…”
Selina turned and looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“I found it!”
“How?” his Selina was brilliant!
Selina stopped abruptly and looked him angrily.
“I’m a jewel thief: my talent is finding priceless things!” she huffed
irritated and resumed her furious pace.
Bruce felt his guts clenching and a cruel regret chasing his cheery mood;
dizziness flooded his head along with a pang.
“You’re mad at me…” he whispered with his voice steady.
Selina halted once again, yanked her head and sighed. She wanted to avoid
Bruce’s puppy eyes that she knew he wasn’t aware of. Be mad at Bruce…God, she
couldn’t even if she or he wanted.
“I just want you to be okay…” she answered and walked towards the alley where
Tony waited.
Bruce felt a mist covering his eyes and he didn’t have the mood to chase it
away so he stumbled a bit and Selina hastened to wrap an arm around his waist.
It was obvious to her that Bruce felt terrible and that made him unwilling to
resist the booze’s effects; she also trembled thinking that something worsened
in his head injury.
“I’m fine…” he mumbled and ran his hand through his hair “you don’t have to…I
don’t want to burden you…”
“Here you are, pal!” Tony exclaimed seeing them entering the alley and stormed
there.
He was furious because he and Jarvis didn’t manage to override the firewalls
Bruce had on the car’s processor but seeing Selina supporting Bruce even
lightly he forgot his wrath and asked her with the eyes.
“The teen ran away to have some drinks…” she said dryly and Bruce glared at
her.
“Is he drunk?”
Bruce escaped Selina’s arm and stretched his posture.
“No!”
But Tony hurried to hold him deactivating his armor.
“You don’t trust me?” Bruce asked sad.
Tony looked at him angrily.
“You gave me reasons tonight, didn’t you, buddy?” he gestured to the car
walking there.
And Bruce made the last thing Tony would expect: cackled and damn! It was
beautiful and bringing him back Bruce’s happy giggles from the past.
“Not only you hacked me and Jarvis out of the car but also you locked me out!”
Selina brought her palm to her mouth to muffle her laughter but it was futile;
Tony snapped his head towards her huffing and rolling his eyes.
“You said it was mine…” Bruce giggled more and Tony didn’t want him to stop.
“Okay, buddy; of course it’s yours. I just wanted some access for safety
reasons. What? Did you think that I’d steal the car?”
“I would…” Selina said slyly and accepted a sideways glare from Tony.
Bruce turned his eyes to Tony totally serious and rubbed his temple closing his
eyes.
“Iron Monger had stolen your armor’s technology; maybe he has stolen more.”
Selina frowned and Tony nodded.
“Okay, little guy; let’s go home. Will you let us in?”
Bruce ruffled Tony’s hair and Tony goggled from the unexpected gesture.
“You can fly, right?” he teased him and laughed again. “Alright, alright…” he
left Tony’s one armed hug and pressed his thumb to the door at a spot Tony
didn’t know and pressed some dots in a small round frame made of blue light. “I
believed you had a sense of humor but you’re gloomier even than me!” he
chuckled. “The processor has both your fingertips and I gave him the order to
let you drive.”
Selina crossed her arms hugging her ribs; her eyes sparkled.
“You have my fingertips in the car’s memory?” she asked awed.
He looked at her nonchalant and shrugged one shoulder.
“You wanted a ride…” he pursed his lips.
“Yeah, but you said…”
“I can’t refuse you anything, can I?” he sighed and Selina’s eyes shone but in
the only way she didn’t want: deeply moved.
Tony coughed.
“Sorry, kids but we have to go and no underage or drunk driving so…”
Selina gritted her teeth and slithered inside the car; she turned to Tony and
smirked triumphantly.
“I don’t think so, handsome…I’m legal and” she brushed the velvet leather of
the steer wheel “Believe me: I craved for it too long! Plus, you got to hold
the whacked puppy…”
Bruce narrowed his eyes because he was a bit dizzy but not ‘whacked’!
“I’m not whacked and I’m not a puppy and I’m perfectly able to…”
The exhaustion of all these days seemed to attack him altogether and the
alcohol induced weakness made his legs slip but Tony hurried to support him.
Bruce turned his head and he was so happy to see Tony’s beautiful face that he
smiled.
“Mmmm…Tony, you’re beautiful!”
The older man rolled his eyes and twisted his mouth.
“Thanks but it’d be more flattering if you said it sober…” he grumped and
Selina giggled. “C’me on, bar fly!” he sighed.
Bruce opened his mouth to protest but followed his friend in the passenger
seat. He chuckled when Tony opened the door: the car had only two seats.
“You’ll take me on your lap?” Bruce raised his eyebrows and laughed.
Tony shook his head.
“I can always tie you on the hood!” yet Bruce laughed again and Tony sighed
because that laugh made him happy and sad at the same time reminding him of
their past at the Manor.
“Or lock him in the trunk!” Selina spat.
Bruce shook his index finger to her warningly.
“I let you drive but I can take it back…”
Tony dragged him in and tucked him not exactly on his lap but lying on him.
They had to share the same seat.
Selina had no problem finding that the car’s ignition was the receptor of
thumb’s fingerprint and exclaimed thrilled when the car roared.
“Hurray!” Tony huffed sarcastic and Selina cast him an amused sideways glance.
“Sore loser!” she jeered and sped the car.
Bruce let his head fall on Tony’s shoulder; he was exhausted not only
physically but also emotionally even though at this moment he couldn’t discern
anything in this boiling muddle. And he didn’t want to try…Tony was so
warm…Like safety…He let his head nestle in his friend’s strong chest and heard
him sighing; Bruce felt the glowing round metal in Tony’s chest and closed his
eyes. He did that…
He raised his heavy eyes and Tony was watching him with pressed lips.
“You’re angry, Tony…” he said softly. “With me…”
Tony sighed; it was alarming that Bruce’s eyes sparkled so beautiful tonight –
well, he always knew that his friend had gorgeous eyes yet… never again had he
noticed it so much except that night in his penthouse after he ‘bought’ Bruce
from Falcone.
“Sleep, buddy…”
Bruce pouted and Tony appreciated his lips as well.
“I only drank some booze, Tony!” he defended himself. “I’m not underage an’ you
drink from your ten!”
“Beer!” he retorted exasperated. “I was drinking beer, Bruce, not…” he sniffed
his buddy’s mouth “SCOTCH!” he shook his head and the movement made Bruce’s
head slip and Tony hastened to bring Bruce's head to his chest. “If you had
told me to go with you, I wouldn’t have a problem; yet you left alone and drank
hard and you’re not used to that, buddy!”
Bruce yanked his head: Tony was beautiful and familiar and safe and he was in
his protective hands as he had dreamt so many times during Falcone’s…He grunted
to chase away the awakening memory and Tony frowned.
“Wrong!” he exclaimed. “You don’t know anything about me!” this pleasant,
numbing dizziness loosened his tongue.
Tony cocked an eyebrow and caught with the corner of his eye Selina frowning.
“Wanna honor me with info then?” Tony asked gently tightening his grip on
Bruce’s torso.
Bruce laughed but now it was a deep bitter laugh.
“Falcone…” he felt a brick wall blocking his mouth, yet the numbing feeling
told him to continue. “Sometimes” he rubbed his forehead hard “he filled the
moping bucket with scotch and other liquors and made me drink from there like a
dog; he didn’t let go of me till I downed all of it…”
Tony closed his eyes and yanked his head inhaling deeply.
Bruce cackled; it didn’t seem so bad now. But suddenly his laughter became dry.
“He wanted to make me do foolish things – titter, stumble, dance; he wanted to
have a good laugh but I would only cringe in a corner and sob because the pain
inside became harder; and I was dizzy and sick and Falcone would get mad and…”
he looked at Tony’s enraged and sorrowful face and panicked for what he had
shared.
He shut his mouth abruptly and let his head sink in Tony’s safe chest. The
older man gulped and caressed the brunette locks; Bruce’s blank half closed
eyes gazed at nothing.
“How old were you, buddy?” he inquired gently struggling to keep his voice
steady.
Bruce brought both his palms on his face and pressed his eyes.
“It doesn’t matter…” his voice wasn’t playful and high spirited anymore.
“Tell me, little guy…”
Bruce’s voice was throaty and his hands slipped from his face.
“Eight, nine, ten, eleven…? I don’t remember… Many times…”
Tony clenched his jaw and his hand; he felt his eyes burning.
“That bastard!” he shouted and Bruce stirred in his chest. “Rest, buddy…” he
softened immediately “It’s alright…I’m here.”
Bruce’s sparkling eyes stilled at Tony’s face with gratitude and Tony just
couldn’t stand that stare: it was unfair to be regarded with such gratitude
when he didn’t do anything. He turned to Selina and he was shocked: the girl
was crying silently with her eyes gazing in front of her yet Tony was sure that
she wasn’t looking at the road.
To add to his shock Bruce was also looking sadly at Selina and Tony realized
that his buddy knew what the girl was watching or better re-watching. How he
wished he had make it first to Falcone and the rest of the monsters!
Yet he didn’t say anything because he felt like an intruder, an ignorant
bystander. He just tightened his arm around Bruce’s shoulders.
When Selina halted the car before the steps of the Manor’s main entrance Bruce
focused his fevered eyes to the surroundings. Tony felt his friend’s body tense
seeing Alfred hurrying to the car. Selina without addressing anyone left the
car and distanced fast. Tony pressed his lips: he had to learn!
Alfred opened the door and helped his young master come out assisting Tony who
kept supporting his friend with his eyes following Selina.
“Master Bruce?” Alfred’s voice was filled with concern though he smelt the
alcohol.
Bruce didn’t answer; he just looked at the older man.
“Al, can you take our drunkard inside? I have something to do.”
Alfred wrapped his arms protectively around Bruce.
“I certainly can, sir. Is he…alright?”
Tony just smiled reassuringly and nodded.
But Bruce jerked.
“I can walk” he snapped almost hurt “he doesn’t have to carry my burden…”
Tony watched them leaving and rush to find Selina. She was leaning against the
wall at the back side of the building and was wiping her eyes, exhaling angry
with herself. Upon hearing Tony she stilled her feet on the ground and looked
challengingly at Tony.
“What do you want? Go to him!” she roared.
Tony unfazed from her admittedly formidable irritation walked calmly closer. He
locked eyes with her and she narrowed her eyes.
“What. Did. You. See?” he stressed every word.
She yanked her head lashing her long ponytail.
“Mind your own business, rich boy!”
Tony blinked.
“Catwoman doesn’t cry easily except when it is about her friend…”
Selina felt a hot wave of wrath for her weakness to cry in front of others and
a new wave of tears the word ‘friend’ stirred.
“And your friend is my friend too” he held her shoulders. “Bruce is my business
too, Sel…” his eyes were determined. “I must know to be able to help… Share it
with me” he pressed his lips.
“It’s Bruce’s secret…”
“He isn’t aware that you know” she nodded “yet he knows that you saw something
else.”
She shook her head. Selina knew that she could evade Tony yet this night was
awkward and she…She needed to share it with someone yet it still felt like
betrayal.
“I can’t…”
Tony tightened his grip and deepened his gaze.
“Whatever it is, it isn’t embarrassing for Bruce but for them! You make it look
as if Bruce is at fault here…”
She yanked her head and her eyes widened affronted ready to leak again – that
damn night!
“Share the cross, Selina: I promise I won’t tell him.”
Selina turned her head towards the forests, her proud eyes avoiding Tony who
brushed her upper arms and released her, lowering his eyes and turning to leave
sure that the girl won’t speak.
“Bruce knows that I saw Chill rape him…” she almost whispered with steady
voice. “We raided the cabaret’s storage to steal some food for a homeless lady
and her baby; but Chill got in and I hid expecting from Bruce to do the same
yet he decided to face the Vulture’s wrath to distract him from finding me…”
Tony shook his head.
“But he doesn’t know the worst incident you witnessed…”
She bit her lip hesitating once again before nodding.
“One year after the Waynes’ murders I was walking the city; it was very late
after midnight.”
Tony smiled.
“You were nine years old and wandered the city at midnight?”
She didn’t answer.
“I entered an alley to avoid a police car and then I heard shy sobs and
weeping; I looked around. The filthy cement bore the line of two bodies…”
Tony’s guts clenched and his breath shortened.
Selina licked her lips.
“I was in the alley behind the Opera House. A skinny boy with ragged filthy
clothes had collapsed over the line of the bodies and cried; he had laid on the
bodies’ sketch a white rose. A filthy, battered, half sere rose – and he was
begging his parents to forgive him for bringing them such a petty flower he had
found in the garbage…”
Tony closed his eyes and swallowed: Bruce sneaked out of the cabaret the
anniversary of his parents’ deaths to lay a flower... The arc reactor burnt in
his chest.
“I recognized him but I didn’t speak, I didn’t want to intrude. But then some
others did.”
Tony’s stomach became a knot as if this was happening right now, before his
eyes.
“Falcone’s men had found him” Tony missed a couple of breaths knowing that what
was to follow was awful. “Bruce didn’t realize, absorbed in his sorrow…Chill
grabbed him from his wounded arm, the boy struggled, kicked him and tried to
escape…But some thug tackled him and he crashed on the ground. Chill grabbed
him again and pinned him to the wall exactly by the sketch.”
Selina leaned on the wall and drew a breath to calm her heart which drummed
exactly as that night.
“Chill used his enormous cleaver – the one that Bruce smashed the night I
killed Chill. He threatened to skin him…”
Tony’s mouth was agape; he wanted to utter to Chill to stop.
“And then he turned over the boy and smashed his face to the wall pulling down
Bruce’s pants…” she coughed to make her voice less hoarse. “He penetrated him
without any preparation, without any lube…” she closed her eyes. “Bruce yelled,
cried, sobbed, whined – I was seeing the blood slither his tiny thighs, his
legs till the cement.”
Tony’s head lowered too heavy to be supported by his neck; his eyes felt like
someone took their flame out. He felt sick. That was…
“Chill made him call for his parents to save him: first his mom and then his
dad…and continued thrusting…When he finished Bruce was almost unconscious…”
Tony placed his forehead on the wall; he hit it several times barely holding
himself from breaking it. His mind couldn’t conceive, couldn’t accept such
cruelty; that someone would rape a nine year old kid in the place where his
parents died and force the kid to call his parents to save him to torture him
more. His eyes stank before tears burst; his throat had a hot knot.
Selina turned to him and placed her hand to his shoulder blade. Tony turned to
her.
“You insisted…” she whispered affectionately and he nodded.
“And Falcone?” he managed to find some composure. “I don’t think he knew that
the monster was using his…’slave’ – I know he wouldn’t have liked it.”
“Chill said that he found the boy already…used and Falcone whipped Bruce for
that.”
“Motherfuckers!” he wiped his eyes with his fist but instantly new tears
replaced them.
Selina hugged him.
“Hold yourself, handsome; you have to go to him and pretend that you don’t know
his biggest and most painful secret. I’m sorry to welcome you to my club…”
 
Alfred led Bruce in the kitchen though the youth tried a couple of times to get
away. He hadn’t said a word even when Alfred asked him; the kind butler showed
a chair to his master and turned to the counter to prepare a brew special for
intoxication.
He was constantly casting glances to Bruce yet he was surprised when he turned
and saw him slumped face first on the island with his head hid behind his
folded arms.
“Oh, Master Bruce!” he forgot the brew and held Bruce’s shoulders, raising him
slowly and gently.
Bruce looked at him and closed his eyes desperate.
“It’s nothing serious, sir; you’ll feel better right away after you drink the
brew I made for you.”
Bruce opened his eyes and Alfred saw sadness.
“I’m sorry, Alfred…” he said with steady voice but cracked eyes.
“You did nothing wrong, sir…” Alfred smiled carefree. “A night of drinking
isn’t exactly a crime and not something unusual; inebriation will pass and with
my secret recipe you won’t suffer a hangover tomorrow. And I already boil some
water to make you a nice, calming soup.”
Bruce hugged Alfred’s waist and the older man couldn’t stop the memories of the
young kid doing exactly the same thing when sad. His young master’s head sank
in his ribs and Alfred’s heart bled.
“I know I’m irresponsible; I’m bad, Alfred. I made all of you worried…I made
you worry…You love me so much and I always…
Alfred bit his lips and caressed Bruce’s locks; the youth’s voice was so steady
and serious that made him uneasy and certain that Bruce wasn’t intoxicated and
really meant everything.
“I’m ungrateful…I cause you pain while you…you stayed in Gotham and suffered
because of me…and I’m still tormenting you. I even yelled at you for the
clothes – and everything is really perfect, you always do the best for me, but
I’m useless and…and a dirtbag…It’s not reasonable to love so much someone like
me!” he clenched Alfred’s vest.
Alfred cupped Bruce’s face and yanked it gently to look him in the eye.
“And it’s reasonable for you to love someone who never managed to answer your
desperate calls for help? Who saw your eyes filled with tears begging to take
you from those horrible people and did nothing? No, sir, no; you’re not
irresponsible, you’re not ungrateful, you’re not useless. You’re…” he lost his
eloquence seeing Bruce’s shining eyes that were exactly like that despicable
day. “I’d be ungrateful if I complained about such petty things as an outing or
a rant…” he smiled feeling some wetness in his eyes.
“You deserve a better boss, Alfred; someone who won’t make you cry…”
“You’re the only master I’ll ever want, Master Bruce…” he whispered. “There’s
nobody as kind, as good as you; I’m happy living every day close to you. I
could never live away from you, Master Bruce…Just, just open your heart to me,
Master Bruce.”
Bruce rubbed his temple and the wound there.
“Don’t call me ‘master’ or ‘sir’, Alfred…I’m only Bruce…” he closed his eyes
and covered them with his palm “that’s why I mess things up…”
Alfred took the hand covering his eyes and kissed it under Bruce’s puzzled
gaze.
“You’re Bruce; that’s the reason you will triumph once again…I’m always proud
of you, son; please, remember that…”
He brought Bruce’s head in his chest and held it there until he felt the
youth’s breath calming. He let him and gave him the brew.
“Please, do drink it; it’ll help…”
Bruce obeyed though his mouth twisted in disgust which made Alfred chuckle.
“This is one of drunkenness’ downsides. Do you experience any pain?”
He shook his head in denial keeping his eyes fixed to the kind man.
“Bruce, are you hurt?” Tony just entered the kitchen and hadn’t seen Bruce’s
motion.
“I’m fine, Tony” he smiled faintly.
Alfred took the empty glass and put it in the sink.
“Master Anthony, can you take Master Bruce to his room? He needs a nice, warm
shower; meanwhile, I’ll prepare some soup.”
“Of course, Al” Tony answered winking cheerfully burying his true feelings.
Bruce stood and narrowed his eyes.
“I can manage, Alfred; I’m not drunk.”
“C’me on, little guy, you won’t escape…” Tony answered and wrapped his arm
around Bruce’s shoulder causing his grunt.
Yet Bruce followed his friend and Alfred smiled only to press his lips when the
two left the kitchen; if only his young master talked about his demons…
Tony opened the door to the master bedroom, Bruce watching him with still eyes
and his arms crossed. The older man gestured to him to get inside and Bruce
uncrossed his arms and walked graciously.
Tony clapped his hands for the secret lighting to turn on and moved towards the
bathroom without noticing Bruce’s blank gaze.
“You came here to find someone to fill you…Your body learnt to be taken, to be
used carnally; eighteen years, from your most tender years. You hate it but
your body needs it and demands it…You’re thirsty, Bruce; your gorgeous body
wants to be worshipped…”
I don’t want that...
He heard Ra’s evil laughter.
“You’re only worthy of other’s dirty lust; a hole to be filled. A really
esteemed whore!”
“Because you’re a whore and you’re trained to open your legs and your asshole
only to those who have the power to bend you, or the money to buy you! Like the
cheapest street hooker!”
Ra’s laughed louder.
“You realize now that someone can love you only chemically forced and still…at
the end he’ll find out what you really deserve! You stupid, idiot, foolish
child! You believed that anyone would want to make love to you and not just
fuck you? From true love?”
  “A fancy dressed whore in display. Even now people look at me and see someone
who exists to be fucked. A cheap whore.”
“Nothing more…” Bruce whispered.
“What?” Tony turned smiling to him.
Bruce saw again the boy from Malibu who protected him from the bullies
and taught him not be afraid. He saw Tony four months ago over him, unbuttoning
his shirt hungry – he saw the fourteen years old Tony over him grazing his
lips. He saw Tony, both times, stopping because he loved him so much that would
never hurt him. Tony was the only person who loved him, the only who could
prove everyone wrong; he could show to everyone and to him that Bruce can be
used due to pure love and not just sexual hunger, addiction or obsession;
someone who would be gentle with him, caring. Prove to him that he could be
loved and not just screwed…
“Time for shower, buddy!”
Bruce tossed away his jacket.
“Want to join me?”
 
***** Chapter 56 *****
Tony’s eyes widened and turned slowly towards Bruce who was solemn as ever
though his eyes had a sly sparkle Tony had never seen before. He arched his
eyebrows.
“You drink, I get the hallucinations...”
Bruce smiled and shook his head.
“You heard well: so...want to join me in shower?” he walked towards Tony
stretching his body so graciously that the playboy goggled.
He frowned because Bruce moved in a way he had never seen him again; self
confident and determined yet with a different attractive quality that Tony both
liked and was afraid of: Bruce always disliked pulling the stares so when he
walked struggled to keep his body’s merits hidden – at least, the amount he
could. Well, right now he didn’t…He licked his lips and berated himself: there
was no way Bruce...
“You need help in the shower? You want me to...to support you?” he asked
fighting to keep his voice casual as Bruce approached more with his grin
getting wider.
Bruce shook his head in denial reading Tony’s uneasiness.
“As you see, I’m perfectly able to stand” Tony blushed – of course he was. “I
just want some company...”
He was standing in front of Tony, towering his friend and locking eyes with
him. The loose grin left his face.
“And there’s no better company than you...” his voice became deeper, incredibly
suave and his stare more tense.
Tony clenched his waist and took his eyes from Bruce’s: those eyes were
enchanting, suggestive and blurred his reasoning. He lowered his head and
rubbed his forehead; he wasn’t stupid – hell! He was a legendary playboy! He
could catch innuendos from a mile away and that wasn’t just an innuendo...
Bruce sensed Tony’s hesitation and paled: Tony loved him, he knew it... He
chased his friend’s eyes and pierced him though he was smiling nonchalant.
“What? C’me on, Tony, I...”
Tony placed his fingertips on Bruce’s lips and they were so soft exactly as he
remembered the feeling that day in Bruce’s room, eighteen years ago.
“Buddy, you need some sleep” he said flatly. “You’re...you’re...” he sighed.
“Let’s make that night pass fast – tomorrow you won’t remember anything of this
madness.”
Tony evaded Bruce and walked towards the door with his head lowered; all this
unsettled him. Bruce asking him...what? He ran his hands through his locks. No,
Bruce couldn’t ask that, he couldn’t stir what was buried; what made Tony even
now ashamed and sweating.
Bruce stood disappointed for an instant, ready to admit that his tormentors
were right about him. Yet he pressed his lips determined; Tony believed him
drunk, in a daze and that was why he avoided him because he didn’t take him
seriously. He rushed to Tony and placed his hands on his friend’s upper arms.
“I’m not drunk, Tony” he looked him in the eyes. “You act like...you’re afraid
of me...I’m Bruce...You know that I love you.”
Tony cupped Bruce’s face.
“I love you too, buddy but not in this way” he saw Bruce’s eyes sank in despair
and his heart clenched. “No, no, little guy” he whispered gently “don’t be like
that; this night is difficult. We both know that you don’t mean that...”
And then Tony was in a blur finding himself flat on his back at Bruce’s bed. He
blinked to understand what had just happened and felt Bruce’s taut thighs
straddling his hips in a way that made his legs paralyze from pleasure; his
friend’s bright smile flashed his vision.
“I do mean it, Tony...” he breathed while his lips slithered Tony’s neck
towards his ear causing electricity waves in the older man’s spine.
Tony shut his eyes because he was so vulnerable to that stimulus ready to
permit his body to explode. But he clenched his teeth, opened his eyes and
grabbed Bruce’s upper arms; his eyes struggled but managed to find their
determination even looking at those happy, unique eyes. And damn! He longed to
see those eyes happy...
“Little guy, you don’t want that...” he was certain that Bruce didn’t want it
yet he wasn’t sure for himself; he wasn’t sure if he didn’t want to touch Bruce
intimately.
Bruce placed his lips feathery light over Tony’s earlobe.
“I’m not ‘little’ anymore” he whispered nibbling his friend’s earlobe
registering Tony closing his eyes “and I know you want that too...You waited
too long for that…”
Tony jerked his eyes open and goggled at this.
“Ww-what?! No, buddy...” he used his grip on Bruce’s arms and tried to lift
Bruce detaching the younger man’s lips from his ear because...well, it was a
sensitive spot and his friend’s lips had something.
Bruce looked him almost hurt and smiled shyly. He didn’t want to let despair
grasp him: Tony wouldn’t turn him down, his friend loved him and he felt Tony’s
desire that night at his penthouse. So all Tony needed was to be persuaded that
it was alright.
“Want me under you?”
“I want you to be your slutty self…” Superman jeered.
And Bruce shut his ears to the voice to not cringe.
Tony blinked and his mouth trembled; he gulped. Under him...He didn’t have a
problem with positions...Wait! He mentally slapped himself: don’t slip in that
path. He got panicked seeing Bruce’s eyes glimmering wickedly; of course the
younger man understood immediately what crossed Tony’s mind.
Bruce smiled and freed his hands from Tony’s shaking hands. He grabbed the hem
of Tony’s blue T-shirt and pulled it off his head. The motion was so rapid and
so unreal that Tony stretched his arms to ease the removal before terror clawed
his guts.
“Shit, Bruce!” he protested and made to raise yet the younger man placed his
palms on Tony’s pectorals and pressed him flat on his back. This made Tony
shudder and gritted his teeth to stop his cock from waking.
The glowing sphere on Tony’s chest blinded Bruce’s eyes and he caressed the
metal: he owed Tony’s life to this round shaped miracle. Tony felt goose bumbs
as if the arc reactor was of flesh and it became worse when Bruce slithered his
sculpture-like body on him resting his head on his chest. And then Tony felt
electricity jolting his every cell as Bruce began nibbling softly and
incredibly sensual the perimeter of the arc reactor.
A moan left his mouth and he cursed: he never imagined that his nerves around
the arc reactor were oversensitive. Unfortunately, Bruce figured out and
exploited his finding with his warm tongue’s tip taking over from his lips.
Damn that ninja training once again! And another moan escaped him; Tony was
sure that Bruce’s training included causing orgasms just with the tongue...And
that natural perfume…exactly as he remembered it: cinnamon, orange, hibiscus
and another essence of musk…intoxicating his senses and enchanting his mind.
Bruce felt elated with Tony’s moans and encouraged let his hands participate by
massaging Tony’s breasts downing slowly to his abdominals bringing his face
over Tony’s to kiss velvety softly his lips. His eyes locked with Tony’s
shocked, scared eyes.
“All these years you were a whore; now you’ll be a useful whore…”
Bruce felt a shiver of disgust; no, Ra’s, I’m not acting as a whore right now.
I love Tony. He closed his eyes to erase the echo of the words.
“You’re so beautiful, Tony...”
“This...” he moaned from an extremely arousing stroke in his lower abdomen.
“feels like incest, Bruce...”
But Bruce touched his nose on Tony’s cheek and nuzzled begging for his friend’s
kiss yet as much as Tony wanted to soothe him stayed adamant though his heart
raced sending more blood to the last place he wanted right now.
“This feels terrific, Tony!” Bruce kissed his ear and made a trail of kisses to
his collar bone. “And we’re not brothers...”
Tony was already sweaty from the stimulation and his effort to keep his cock
quiet – not an easy task when Bruce’s pelvis began rubbing on his in a way he
hadn’t experienced again; slowly, gently and then a bit stronger exactly at the
spots which reacted instantly. Tony writhed and arched his back closing his
eyes and Bruce took haste to slither his tongue over Tony’s curve.
“Where...” the older man huffed and puffed “did you...oh, God...! learn this?
Ow!” despite his ecstasy he could picture a middle aged lion-like man demanding
sexual tricks from a teen. “Forget I asked...”
And Bruce was grateful for that because this was so nice to be ruined from the
answer; he didn’t want Tony getting cold feet. But Tony gritted his teeth and
clenched his fists to stop his hands from groping Bruce’s back reaching his
protruding, round buttocks: during the night he caught himself often admiring
the perfect lean and taut muscles underneath Bruce’s thin white T-shirt.
Suddenly, he wanted to shout from terror and desire as a wet, warm mouth made
of silk enveloped his already erected nipple licking and sucking and then
grazing gently with his teeth. While a magic pelvis continued his seductive
dance on his penis that began twitching happily despite his mind’s effort to
order him to stay down.
“Bruce, Bruce, stop!” he half whined half yelled without being able to control
his shaking. “You know I’m not the most sexually restrained man...”
Bruce rose without releasing Tony’s hips and smiled evilly.
“I’m counting on this!”
He grabbed his own T-shirt and pulled it over his head to toss it carelessly
away. Tony’s eyes bulged and he gulped; that was sly! That was evil and totally
unfair! Not that torso! He couldn’t avert his gaze: the deltoids leading to big
but not monstrous triceps and biceps to the veined forearms, the taut, not very
bulky pectorals with the small, cute pink nipples, the layers of abdominals
ending up to a sweet navel and a steep pubic that he could see only the start:
all these in porcelain pale flesh. He could count every square abdominal and
his tongue begged to taste them… And that scar over his stomach from a stab was
also enticing though he saw the blood spring from there; then it had caused him
terror now he wanted just to lick and suck it... It was like those ancient
statues of The disc Thrower and Hermes of Praxiteles came to life to torment
him! But all these statues were completely naked while his live statue had his
jeans on offering just a preview of what lied after the underbelly's slope
ended…
Bad boy, Tony! Bad, bad boy…
He forced his eyes to leave from there and look at Bruce’s happy eyes.
“That’s naughty, Bruce...Real naughty...”
“I’m a bad boy, Tony: don’t you like bad boys?” he stilled his palms on the
mattress and lowered his head to Tony’s convulsing abdominals yet Tony grabbed
the younger man’s shoulders and pushed him upwards.
“Bruce, there’s Pepper...”
Bruce’s calm breath – Tony was enraged from his friend’s tranquility and lack
of sweat while he was in fire and drenched – was caught in his lungs; his eyes
lost their playfulness.
“Pepper is my friend...” he mumbled.
Tony nodded and inhaled deeply trusting that Bruce would stop now.
“I don’t want to steal you from her” he said solemnly. “She...she’ll
understand...I’ll explain to her and she will understand.”
Tony cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.
“You know so much about woman psychology!” he snorted.
But Bruce slithered his warm body on Tony’s as if making a deep bow and began
trailing his friend’s body with his lips from the length of his neck to the
perimeter of the arc reactor to the arch of his torso which to Tony’s dismay
jerked again, to end to the playboy’s underbelly massaging slowly each layer of
trained flesh. And all these while Bruce’s taut and soft inner thighs grazed
mercilessly Tony’s genitals which rebelled against their master who groaned
helplessly.
“Let go, Tony...” Bruce whispered throatily and his tongue made Tony’s flesh
burn with need. “Don’t be afraid; I’m clean. Gonorrhea is gone. I’m yours,
Tony; I was always yours...”
That voice was more arousing even than that titillating dance on his groin.
Bruce was his...Tony closed his eyes; his body was burning, sweating and he
realized that his pelvis was jerking wanting more of that flesh. The playboy
clenched his teeth willing his mind to forget the stimuli from his horny body
and focus on what he perceived from Bruce’s body: Tony had had sex with
hundreds of people, men and women, and knew the reactions of a body in want.
He brushed his friend’s locks though it was real testing to touch without
letting his body free to place his friend under him and explore, penetrate...
Bruce raised his eyes puzzled and Tony sighed: that stare was exactly like that
day he almost violated his baby friend.
“Bruce, listen to me, buddy: you’re not even aroused...You don’t really want
that...”
But Bruce just lay upon Tony’s torso and brushed the raven hair on his chest.
“Don’t care about that” his hot breath caused another shiver to Tony’s body.
Tony inhaled deeply and touched his hands on Bruce’s shoulder which was a grave
mistake in his state so he took them away immediately.
“As much as I appreciate taking pleasure I also want giving...” he said calmly
though his rasps betrayed his heartbeat – maybe he could bring sense to his
buddy and save himself.
Bruce rose slightly and locked his eyes with Tony’s; he didn’t want to tell
that yet it was the only way the older man would forget Bruce’s inability to
respond.
“I want it, Tony...I just...can’t...have an erection...It’s not your fault,
it’s of organic cause.”
Tony closed his eyes: he imagined that Bruce couldn’t function sexually but due
to psychological reasons. Learning that it had organic roots meant that there
was some injury in Bruce’s spine and that...He saw Chill’s enormous body
thrusting brutally, cruelly in Bruce’s immature, small body; he remembered how
Bruce was at his eight years and he was really small. He actually looked
younger than his age so one year later he couldn’t have been bigger. And that
monster didn’t even prepare the poor boy, didn’t even use some lubricant...
He pressed his lips a knot constricting his throat. Those people put Bruce
through this torture every day mercilessly, without any caution…They injured
permanently the kid and he wondered if the missing erections were the only
thing.
Bruce studied his friend’s unfocused eyes; it was easy for him to see the
anger, the sadness, the disgust; which images Tony re-made in his mind. He was
losing his friend in pity...
He took Tony’s hand and began kissing his fingertips.
“Let’s forget everything, Tony. Imagine...imagine we are in my childhood room
again and you still have me under you” he smiled shyly “sniffing me, touching
the corner of my lips, your hands under my blouse ready to explore my body...”
Tony’s eyes widened and he blushed because this was the last thing he wanted
Bruce to remember.
“Bruce, I...” but Bruce pecked his lips and smiled.
“You wanted it then, Tony; why you didn’t proceed?”
Tony knitted his brows.
“You were a baby, Bruce! And I a teen already fully grown...”
Bruce rose slightly and looked deeply in Tony’s eyes kissing him again.
“Kiss me like then, Tony...”
It was an urge yet Tony could hear the underlying pleading and it crushed his
guts. Bruce’s eyes searched Tony’s almost desperately.
“Pretend that nothing changed...Pretend that this is my first time...”
Tony closed his eyes.
“I know that my first time would have been with you” Bruce whispered in Tony’s
ear. “At first, I didn’t know what happened that day, a couple of days before
we were separated for eighteen years; but then after...” he couldn’t utter it
because it’d ruin completely Tony’s mood. “I realized what you wanted that day.
And I knew that you’d never have caused pain or shame to me: it would have been
pure and tender and beautiful...”
Tony could imagine small Bruce bleeding from his anus, in excruciating pain,
crying in his cell trying to find comfort in his friend’s memories. And then he
moaned as Bruce began kissing again the flesh around his arc reactor that
glowed more; but his moan began sensual and ended to a sob.
“Please, Tony, don’t...” he yanked his head and grinned broadly. “Let’s,
let’s...Mmm...I always imagined that I was in college – of course I couldn’t
have caught up with you so we wouldn’t be together...”
Tony never accepted that; even when years had passed since Bruce’s supposed
death he was postponing his studies subconsciously believing that Bruce would
catch up with him and they would be together in their studies.
“Yet” Bruce continued nestling his head in Tony’s chest “you’d have come to
pick me up for the Christmas’ holidays. We’d have been alone in my dormitory
and we’d have been watching the snow falling graciously outside the window; and
then you’d have grabbed my waist and kissed me fervently in the lips whispering
that you love me; and I’d have said to you that I was always yours, waiting
years for that moment... You’d have taken off my clothes and then carefully and
gently you’d have watered my thirsty body. Without shame, without brutality,
without pain and jeers...only words, whispers of love.”
Tony now was crying, real tears that the frivolous playboy should not know how
to shed. Indeed, that was what would have happened if those monsters
didn’t...They robbed them of the best moment of their life…
Bruce kissed and licked his teardrops.
“Let’s forget those eighteen years, Tony. Let’s pretend we are in my dormitory
and you make love to me watching the snow falling...We can change the past...”
Yet Tony couldn’t stop seeing the small battered kid with his beautiful eyes
filled with tears of pain and shame and hopelessness because his best friend
would never come to save him.
“Tony...” he cupped his friend’s cheek and shook his head diving in Tony’s
devastated eyes; Bruce felt such despair that he didn’t feel in years: if Tony
touched him, if real love touched him then maybe the demon would leave him
alone. Tony’s touch could liberate him; give him back his first time, his
chance to live again.
Tony gulped and grabbed Bruce’s shoulders, stilling his eyes on those sapphire-
emerald eyes that were his own lost innocence that came back. He wished he
could erase those nightmarish eighteen years touching his friend; give him back
what they stole from him, his first time by making love to him as Bruce
deserved...But he knew that Bruce was in a difficult emotional state, that his
friend was too vulnerable, too sensitive and he didn’t dare to lay his hands on
him.
Tony’s eyes were like open books to Bruce who lowered his head and clenched his
jaw. Not even Tony who loved him so much could overlook his past. He freed his
friend and rushed to the window; he crossed his arms and his eyes stroke the
dark sky that slowly began getting lighter colors announcing the dawn’s
arrival.
Tony sighed relieved because he managed to win the temptation of violating his
friend and then closed his eyes and let his body enjoy safely the lingering
sensations from Bruce’s ministrations; how he wished those years hadn’t
intervened! His body felt light as a feather, clean as a newborn and with
Bruce’s bodily aroma still in his nostrils – this was bliss...
But then his gaze found Bruce half naked gazing at the sky and he pressed his
lips because he could feel his buddy’s suffering, his confusion, his
momentarily disappointment; Tony knew that tomorrow Bruce would feel relieved
for not ending this up but now he was hurt.
He reluctantly rose and searched with his eyes for his T-shirt; he put it on
and walked carefully to Bruce. He felt the urge to hold his shoulders yet the
younger man’s naked back washed by the silver light of the moon was so enticing
that he decided against it. Suddenly he noticed some bruises on Bruce’s
forearms and he frowned; the bruises were finger shaped.
“Who made these?” he asked calmly and brushed the bruises.
Bruce didn’t change his stare nor turned.
“They were made during the battle with Iron Monger” he said nonchalant yet Tony
wasn’t stupid.
“If Iron Monger had touched your forearms now you’d have two broken arms. Plus,
I don’t think he had any chance to even come near you. Someone attacked you in
the bar?” He couldn’t stop his horror from reaching his voice.
Bruce yanked his head.
“Nobody attacked me...” it was what Tony would have always in his mind: his
victim little friend who had been attacked every day of his life. It was stupid
of him believing that Tony would touch him; no decent man would ever touch
someone like him; no decent man would want to be contaminated by all those
men’s filth. “I’m sorry, Tony” he said capturing the still glowing moon in his
eyes.
Tony frowned.
“I don’t understand...”
“I tried to take advantage of your friendship and pure love to satisfy my
egoism.”
The older man shook his head fighting the urge to slap himself.
“Your egoism?” his eyebrows arched; Bruce and egoism were two conflicting
concepts.
“I wanted to feel that someone can touch my body from true love and not
chemicals or carnal desire to rampage. I wanted to prove that someone decent
could desire someone like me and tried to force you to do it exploiting your
affection. But it’s impossible a decent, ‘clean’ person wanting to touch me...”
Tony gulped and ran his hands through his messy hair.
“Don’t say that, don’t believe that, Bruce” he shook his head. “Believe me any
decent man would want to touch you, to be your lover – my God! You’re the most
gorgeous man I ever seen! And the purest! Please, look at me, buddy...”
Bruce turned his emotionless eyes; he didn’t believe Tony. He said all these to
console him. And Tony knew what his friend was thinking and locked his sincere
eyes with Bruce’s.
“I know that my charm is irresistible” he tried to lighten the mood. “And it’d
be my honor and” he arched his eyebrows “definitely pleasure” he nodded “to be
your lover. Yet you deserve someone who knows how to make love to you and I...”
he grinned uncomfortably “I know only to have sex...I’m now learning love with
Pepper...”
Tony caressed his friend’s locks and then placed his hands on Bruce’s neck and
brought his forehead to touch his friend’s.
“But if this is what you really want...I’m willing to try. But are you sure? Do
you want our friendship to become something else? Your Tony being your lover?”
 Bruce’s eyes were frozen, unreadable like labyrinths and then suddenly he
yanked his head and stormed to the door snatching his T-shirt from the floor.
Tony lolled his head desperately.
“Bruce! Bruce, please! Stay...” but Bruce opened the door and left; Tony closed
his eyes and sighed. “You’re useless, Stark!”
Bruce wore hastily his T-shirt without stopping his rush to the stairs. But
suddenly his eyes froze.
Pepper stood in the corridor; she had heard something and came out of her room
to check. She knitted her eyebrows seeing Bruce; he looked calm as always yet
she could sense that something was off.
“Bruce, what’s the matter? Is everything alright?”
He felt deeply ashamed seeing Pepper’s honest, concerned eyes; she had treated
him so nice, she made so much to help Wayne Enterprises and he tried to seduce
Tony and disturb their life. Pepper’s eyes filled with confusion.
“I’m sorry, Pepper” he passed her avoiding her eyes and stormed to the stairs.
Pepper watched him for a second and then ran to the master bedroom where the
door opened to reveal Tony as much distressed as Bruce. Something was really
off she thought and confronted Tony who halted abruptly rolling his eyes and
cursing his luck.
“What’s going on, Tony?” she demanded crossing her arms. “What have you done?!”
she could see that Tony’s T-shirt was wrinkled too.
Tony shook his head and sighed; he brushed Pepper’s upper arms and locked eyes
with her.
“Nothing, honey, nothing; I’ll explain but not now. I must catch up with Bruce.
Trust me, Pepper...”
Pepper lolled her head exasperated; as if it was easy to trust Tony Stark. But
Tony pecked her cheek and followed Bruce.
Bruce opened the main entrance; he had to leave, to disappear immediately.
“Master Bruce, what...?”
He turned and saw his butler’s surprised and worried expression, his puzzlement
about what new ordeal had found them. Bruce noticed Alfred’s clever eyes taking
in his T-shirt that was worn inside-out and that was the final blow for the
youth.
“I’m sorry, Alfred” he said with steady voice and dashed outside, descending
with a jump the staircase.
He entered the car that nobody took care to put in the garage and sped outside
the Manor’s grounds.
Alfred ran behind him but he was on the landing yelling his Master’s name when
the car roared and disappeared almost instantly. The elder man’s eyes followed
distraught the blur of the black car and he clenched unconsciously the towel he
was carrying.
Tony stopped at his heels right before Alfred; he was panting but not from the
running. He caught a last glimpse of the car. Damn!
Alfred looked him in the eye with the same intense stare he ‘interrogated’ them
when they were children: strictness, affection and worry.
“What happened, Master Anthony?”
Tony sighed and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. How could he answer to
the kind man? Bruce was feeling horrible and if Tony told the others it’d get
worse.
“Just a misunderstanding, Al.”
Alfred pressed his lips and nodded though his eyes told Tony that he couldn’t
fool him.
“Is that sleek wonder you gave him as much safe as beautiful?” he sighed gazing
at the Palisades that the dawn light just began brushing.
Tony shook his head, squeezing lightly Alfred’s shoulders.
“It’s like Ironman is there ready to hug him to protect him from everything!”
if he didn’t change that as well.
He activated his armor and took off ordering Jarvis to search for the car in
every satellite’s feedback while he began hacking the car’s system.
 
“Mister Stark is trying to gain access to the car’s com, Mister Wayne.”
The artificial female voice cracked the peaceful silence of the last fainting
colors of the night.
“Don’t let him” he answered tired but determined.
He knew that Tony couldn’t find him there, at the edge of the middle curve
leading to the steep cliff’s bottom. The cliff had many curves, narrow but
enough for a car; of course there were not many people knowing that you could
descend the cliff without having to fall or fly; maybe he was the only one. He
couldn’t see much of the horizon but he could see the morning star as the moon
began setting.
“...can I call you ‘Star’?”
“I am called much worse...”
“…I think he realized that you’re a whore and decided that he shouldn’t waste
his time with a whore...Suuuuure, he gladly would pin you to a wall
aaaaaand…Buuuut nothing more... He’s a boy scout, you know; he has better
things to do than saving a whore. Even an unwilling one: a hero like him wants
to save pure people. CLEAN PEOPLE!”
He ran his hands through his locks. He wasn’t thinking till now and all the
thoughts attacked him simultaneously, poking him his immodesty.
Thankfully, this specific place was a blind spot for the satellites; he had
made his research. So Tony wouldn’t be able to find him using the satellites
and he hoped that his firewall would last long enough.
Long enough for what? He asked himself and couldn’t give an answer.
“Be happy, Bruce…please be happy…” his mother’s sad voice told him again with
all her sweetness and Hero looked him with his two eyes.
Bruce brought his head to rest on the steer wheel. I tried, mom…But we both
know that it’s impossible.
“You’ll be a gorgeous man, Bruce…”
He saw again Tony’s teen face above him, so serious that the eight year old
stopped laughing; Tony’s carbon glimmering eyes were sad and happy at the same
time. He was relieved he didn’t finish what he started but he was happy because
as his little friend would grow up he’ll be there to give him his love; because
they had an entire life stretching before them…
Bruce shook his head. Neither Tony nor anyone else could foresee what would
happen a few days after and that their life would change forever; what was
there between them destroyed forever as Bruce… As much as he wanted to fool
himself, those eighteen years ruined him; ruined everything…
How could he try to fool himself? He always knew that he was broken however he
attempted to take advantage of Tony’s pure love and with the filthy tricks Ra’s
taught him to make him use his body; to be polluted by Bruce’s body. Only to
fool himself that he wasn’t completely wrecked.
“It’s been five months since your body was last fucked. Your body learnt to be
taken, to be used carnally; eighteen years, from your most tender years. You
hate it but your body needs it and demands it…You’re thirsty, Bruce; your
gorgeous body wants to be worshipped…”
No, he didn’t want that; he didn’t feel that need. He felt disgust even at the
sense of the others looking at him longingly. He even hated his appearance that
pulled people’s eyes and he just used it to trap his best friend…
He brought his palms to his face; his brain hammered inside his skull. He had
played with Tony’s life for the second time; he was willing to destroy his
friend’s life just to prove something unreal, for sustaining a lie that even he
didn’t believe.
He waited behind the garbage bin in the alley behind Dolcetto; Selina was late
and he was worried and disappointed because if she didn’t show up in a moment
he’d have to return inside and endure a whole day without having seen her.
But then a familiar body slumped beside him and kissed his cheek.
“Sorry I’m late, kiddo; you feared that I ain’t coming, huh? No chance. I just
had to lose an asshole” Bruce’s eyes widened disapprovingly and Selina rolled
her eyes. “He is an asshole!” she nodded in emphasis. “He thinks that he can
stalk me only because he and I…” she covered her mouth.
Bruce knew that she didn’t hesitate to share anything with him but this must be
something she considered painful for him.
“He and you what?”
She lolled her head and scratched her nape uncomfortably.
“Fucked…”
Bruce widened his eyes because he certainly knew what ‘fuck’ meant but he never
thought that Selina would permit that – though in the cabaret people always did
that not only for a payment but also willingly.
Selina pressed her lips, searching her friend’s eyes. It was obvious that she
didn’t want to remind him of his unfortunate state.
“It’s okay, Selina” he smiled. “We’re 14 years old” he began being fucked from
his nine. “And how was it?”
She shrugged and twisted her mouth.
“Fast, lukewarm and…disappointing; that’s why I sent him off but he insists to
follow me around. I think I’ll kick his ass.”
Bruce smiled and Selina tapped his nose.
“Fast?” every time it lasted forever for him. “I don’t understand why people
long to do something like this, with a name as ugly as fuck…”
She frowned.
“Well, some people prefer to call it ‘make love’ and seek for that but it’s too
official and too perfect to have in real life…”
Especially when you’re marked as a whore…
Oh! He didn’t even care about these things, about love. For him there was only
his mission to fill his life; he didn’t want anyone to touch him or love him.
He flinched internally only with the thought. How could he reach this level?
Provoking his best friend to… fuck him? And now because of this nonsense he
lost Tony…
He grabbed his locks with both hands and pulled, trying to soothe the headache
and the shame; he would never see Tony again.
“How do you stand yourself, whore? I would prefer to slay myself than live the
way you do, being everyone’s hooker; the hole for everyone’s pleasure!”
 He hated to admit it but Bane was right: he was a hooker. Till now he consoled
himself that it was without his consent but tonight another lie fell down. He
begged Tony to fuck him, he tried to seduce him like a bitch in heat...Only he
wasn’t in heat neither he wanted to have an intercourse – Tony was right. He
just proved that Falcone and the others achieved at least that: making the son
of Thomas and Martha Wayne a whore.
“I know it’s not your fault” Superman almost whispered again, his lips grazing
Bruce’s cheek. “You were raised to be a whore; you grew up as a whore so even
now you act like one. ”
“You know your parents watch you right now...They’re always watching...” Bane
sneered.
 And more important a whore who made a pass to his friend.
He’d never see Tony again because he was ashamed; he knew it was cowardice yet
he couldn’t forgive himself and thus he’d punish himself by letting his friend
free. Of course, he’d need Tony’s help to neutralize the threat of the League
because Gotham’s and world’s safety was too important to sacrifice so he’d have
to rely on Lucius as intermediate; there was no way he’d see Pepper in the eyes
again.
He turned on the engine and left the cliff’s edge for the road – not the major
road but the old one that was abandoned and forgotten covered now from the rich
vegetation of the Palisades. He had no doubt that Tony would locate him
eventually yet he hoped to meet Lucius before Tony reached him. Because after
his meeting with Lucius he’d make sure that Tony would lose his tracks.
 
“I’m sorry, sir, but I wasn’t able to find Mr. Wayne’s car...” Jarvis informed.
 Tony floating over Palisades’ dawning sky cursed. His efforts to break into
the car’s communication system and reason with Bruce had failed: he was both
embarrassed and proud of his buddy admitting that he should ask Bruce to show
him his tricks.
He blushed as his mind was invaded by the image and the sensations of Bruce’s
half naked, divine body writhing over his own in a sensual, irresistible dance
he never experienced before...Well, not these tricks – hacking tricks.
He shook his head and whistled raising his brows.
“You’re awesome, Tony; you managed to fight DAT temptation! I’d like to dare
those yoga masters to resist that...Wait!”
He caught a black sleek blur tearing the forests and rushing to Chelsea Bridge.
“Gotcha, kiddo!”
He began flying behind the car in a distance to not make Bruce disappear again
though he was positive that his friend already knew that Tony would find him as
soon as he headed to the bridge. What did he have in mind? He considered
grabbing the car and stopping it yet Bruce would slip then using his training.
He followed discreetly relieved upon realizing that the car was heading to
Wayne Tower: there it wouldn’t be so easy to sneak away from him and who knows?
Maybe Bruce wanted to be caught.
 
“I’m sorry, Mr. Fox for bringing you here so early.”
“No need, Mr. Kent” he nodded “I understand you have a job to maintain
and...old men like me are really morning birds.” He lolled his head on the side
and arched his eyebrows. “Our appreciation to sleep decreases as our years
increase...Besides secrecy is demanded in our case.”
They were inside Fox’s laboratory and the scientist pressed a button to a round
shaped device that Clark knew was a scientific small fridge and a round layer
protruded with many ampoules on it. Lucius put on his glasses, stared a bit at
the ampoules and finally took one of them, returning the layer inside the
fridge.
Clark took off his overlarge, ugly jacket and rolled his sleeve seeing Lucius
adjusting the ampoule to a pen injector he was sure that had diamond point
enhanced with a minimum of Kryptonite enough only to permit the needle to enter
the flesh.
Lucius injected the medicine and Clark closed his eyes enjoying the rapidly
spreading sensation of revitalizing. The older man laughed cordially and Clark
appreciated it.
“It’s really that good, Mr. Kent?”
Clark lolled his head and his clever eyes shone behind the oversized, square
glasses.
“You know that already, Mr. Fox; don’t tell me you gave it to me without
testing it first...” he arched his eyebrows.
Lucius purged his lips.
“Only if I wanted to be fired and faced with a furious Mr. Wayne; he insisted
all this time to be extra careful and we know how formidable he can be...”
Clark blushed; so Bruce cared... He shook himself before Mr. Fox figured him
out too.
“I’d like to thank you, Mr. Fox for that miraculous medicine you made; it can
heal humans as well, right?”
Lucius grinned broadly and shook his head.
“The reporter investigating...You want another exclusive, Mr. Kent?”
Clark lowered his eyes.
“Not this time, Mr. Fox.”
The older man nodded.
“It has healing powers for humans too; we’re now at the stage of discovering
and studying all its possibilities” Clark looked awed. “But you have to thank
your friend for that” Clark’s heart warmed at that ‘your friend’ though he
doubted that Bruce considered him a friend. “Mr. Stark and I created, adjusted
it to Kryptonian physiology and tested it but Mr. Wayne brought as the recipe.”
Clark had heard rumours and legends about a wondrous potion the League of
Shadows had in its disposal to heal fatal wounds. So Bruce stole the secret
recipe and deciphered it. Lucius read his thoughts and nodded.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Kent?”
“Much better. I have regained almost normal functioning without any...ugly
surprises. Yet I still feel like something is missing.”
Lucius pressed his lips.
“Maybe the shock or just you need some time and definitely some more dosages.
I’m certain that you’ll be your previous self again. Yet I can take a sample
and test it if you want.”
“That won’t be necessary. Mr. Fox; I only took one dosage and I almost got
everything back; if taking all doses doesn’t change that feeling, I’ll
definitely use your help; besides, maybe it’s caused by other things...” he
blushed and looked embarrassed at his old wrist watch “I must leave now” Clark
mumbled. “Thank you for everything” he shook the man’s hand.
“Have a great day, Mr. Kent and take care of yourself.”
“I will, Mr. Fox; thank you.”
Clark followed the wide corridor to the lift; he was very happy that this part
of the Wayne Tower wasn’t too illuminated so he could walk in the shadow as
‘his friend’ so much liked.
He heard hurried footsteps crossing the corridor towards Fox’s laboratory.
Bruce! He expected to be acknowledged by him since the shadows didn’t thwart
Bruce to discover those hidden in them. Yet the younger man continued furious
and Clark frowned, sensing Bruce’s distress without even trying.
He felt the urge to run behind him and ask but he had promised that he won’t be
intrusive and pressing again. So he sighed but stepped determined into the lift
to the underground parking and his humble car.
 
“Mr. Wayne!” Fox doubted his eyes not only because the youth was here so early
but also because Bruce was upset and his plain T-shirt was inside out. “What
brings you here so early? You haven’t slept at all, have you?”
Bruce closed his eyes and yanked his head; he hadn’t time for that.
“Lucius, I want you to take over everything concerning our collaboration with
Tony: paperwork, informing, passing things for me...”
Fox frowned.
“Why?” he asked suspiciously. “You don’t need a mediator when you stay under
the same roof.”
Bruce clenched his jaw and bit his lip.
“Not anymore.”
Lucius sobered sensing that something critical had happened.
“Is Mr. Stark moving from Wayne Manor to his penthouse?” he had to ask though
he knew that something like that wouldn’t have cut the bridges between the two
young men; he hoped that maybe Bruce would open up.
“I am” he snapped with his eyes determined.
Lucius was really worried now; Bruce leaving his parents’ house to avoid Tony?
Yet he kept his composure.
“That doesn’t mean you won’t be able to keep in touch with Mr. Stark.”
Bruce rubbed his forehead because a dull, throbbing headache had settled there.
He had to leave before Tony came to Lucius’ laboratory.
“And he’ll be very happy when you’ll show him this...” the older man said
mildly raising his hand that held a vial with transparent liquid.
Bruce’s eyes widened impressed.
“Is this...?”
Lucius smiled happily.
“The prize of our efforts: the Water of Immortality tested and ready for use in
humans.”
Bruce felt the impulse to grab the vial and run to Tony to show him what he and
Lucius had achieved...Yet he remembered what that hole in his chest was and
didn’t even stretched his hand.
“You show him, Lucius” he uttered icy and Lucius frowned. “I won’t see Tony
ever again.”
The scientist shook his head; that was a disaster and he wouldn’t let it
happen.
“Mr. Stark is stubborn; I doubt he’ll stop till he sees you and talks things
out with you.”
Bruce narrowed his eyes.
“He won’t find me; I’ll stay in the caves.”
Lucius closed his eyes and let his head loll to the side; the youth was
certainly in distress and from what he was seeing he hadn’t any rest which was
very bad for a healing concussion and wearing his T-shirt that way wasn’t
encouraging either.
He stood up from his stool and held the youth’s upper arms.
“How much you’re willing to stay there?” he asked locking his eyes with
Bruce’s.
“Till he gives up and leaves Gotham.”
Lucius pressed his lips and shook his head in denial.
“I don’t think he’ll give up, Mr. Wayne. He didn’t give up for eighteen years”
he arched his brows. “Is truly so serious to make you want to end a friendship
that endured so many years and through life and death?”
Bruce didn’t answer; his head ached but the pain in his heart was hell.
“It was me, Lucius” he didn’t want Lucius believe that Tony had done something.
“I ruined everything.”
Lucius shook his head.
“I highly doubt that, Mr. Wayne. Don’t be hasty in your decisions: you’re an
unbelievably wise young man who always thinks thoroughly before acting. Take
some time and rest to consider calmly what happened and how serious it really
was. Listen to a much older man: rarely things are as bad as we believe them,
especially in human relationships; talking things always help.”
Bruce closed his eyes and opened his mouth to answer yet Lucius’ cell rang and
he didn’t speak.
“Excuse me, Mr. Wayne” he made a gesture with his hand and Bruce nodded
preoccupying himself with Lucius’ fascinating stuff.
Lucius nodded responding to what he was hearing and followed with his eyes his
boss.
“No, no, I don’t think there’s a need for that. Stay where you are” he ended
the call and placed his cell on the bench.
Bruce turned to him.
“Everything all right?”
Lucius grinned with his eyes sparkling mischievous and Bruce frowned.
“It depends...”
“On what?”
The scientist stood in front of Bruce.
“I know you’re a brave young man who never hides before challenges” Bruce
narrowed his eyes. “I know you love Mr. Stark and can’t imagine your life
without his friendship; your love for him is so much that you’re willing to put
yourself through a new ordeal – alienate him” Bruce gulped “because you think
that this way you’ll protect him. That love assures me that you won’t do what
you plan without speaking to him first; you won’t let your friend be tormented
by doubts and self-accusations...”
Bruce made to answer him that he was willing to do it if that meant that his
friend would be angry with him and give up on him but suddenly it dawned. The
call...
“He is here, right?” he inquired coldly yet Lucius discerned a flicker of
distress and haste to flee.
 
Tony left the lift to the floor where Bruce’s office was. It was too early in
the morning so no employee was there or Ms. Philips, Bruce’s secretary – he met
only security guys, the cleaning staff and the beautiful girl in the reception.
He was grateful to Lucius’ habit to go early at work.
Bruce was with the scientist and that was a huge relief for Tony because his
buddy might have entered the Tower only to fool him and gone somewhere else
while Tony went inside.
Lucius told him to wait there and Tony understood the reason: his friend
obviously was in a very sensitive state and if he rushed to the laboratory the
untamed being would flee. So he’d wait at the lobby because he didn’t want to
break into Bruce’s office; besides, it was a very pleasant place for waiting.
He dived to the couch and began sprawl when he caught with the corner of his
eye the door to Bruce’s office slightly ajar.
He tensed immediately and narrowed his eyes; he doubted that the office was
forgotten unlocked so someone must have barged in.
“Jarvis, can you tell me if someone is inside Bruce’s office?” he whispered.
“I’m afraid that this is impossible, sir; Master Wayne’s office is constructed
to not be monitored by outsiders. Yet I can try to overcome the security to get
inside, if you wish.”
“Do it.”
Yet he couldn’t wait too much besides better to attack with the element of
surprise on your side than just wait to be assailed.
He activated his armor and Ironman walked silently to the door. He couldn’t
wait for Jarvis so he scanned the office taking advantage of the close
proximity. What he saw infuriated him; he kicked the door open and burst inside
with his laser gun ready.
Yet some force stabbed him in the chest and then an unbelievably excruciating
pain crashed him to the floor.
 
Bruce’s eyes were cold.
“He is coming.”
Lucius shook his head.
“No, he is waiting for you in your office. And we both know that you want to
see and speak to him.”
Bruce lowered his head and pressed his lips.
“He is Tony, Mr. Wayne...” Lucius told him warmly. “Even in Falcone’s clutches
you kept him close, constantly conjuring his presence” Bruce raised his eyes to
the older man and Lucius saw again the ‘little ghost’ who roamed the Tower.
“Letting your friendship end now will be a heavy blow not only for you but also
for Mr. Stark” he offered Bruce the vial with the Immortality Water smiling.
“Do you really want to spend the rest of your life hiding from Mr. Stark and
without the blessing of his company?”
The young man took hesitantly the vial and for an instance was absorbed in the
transparent liquid till he looked again at Lucius.
“Everything will be all right, Mr. Wayne” he said soothingly and Bruce bit his
lip.
 
Bruce shuffled towards his office, the Water of Immortality in his pocket; he
might have taken the vial and come to his office but still his heart kicked in
his ribs urging him to flee. How was he to look again at Tony’s affectionate,
pure eyes? Lucius said that their friendship was endurable yet Bruce had just
finished it with his stupidity. Even if they talked this out and he didn’t take
haven in the caves...
“My realm!” Bagdana’s sly voice reminded him.
...still nothing would be the same again. He ruined something really special.
And now he had to explain to Tony... Explain what? That he is a trained slut
that tried to seduce him, to play with his emotions and sanity without really
wanting to be laid?
He stood indecisive in front of the locked door and breathed deeply exhaling
slowly. He closed his eyes and pressed his palm on the hidden receptor.
He was distraught even as the door opened but his eyes widened on the first
image from his office.
Tony was writhing on the floor, death pale with his eyes shut.
“God, no!” he gasped and rushed there.
Tony hearing his friend opened his eyes and shook his head in denial; his fear
for Bruce’s fate overcoming the pain and the agony for his life.
“No, little guy! Go!” he found the strength to yell though grunts disrupted his
words.
Yet Bruce kneeled beside him and wrapped him in his arms lifting him carefully.
“I’m here, Tony; you’ll be alright...”
He clenched his jaw and helped his friend stand, supporting him to the leather
couch; he had carried Superman so Tony’s weight was an easy task in comparison.
He placed him softly on the couch and his eyes bulged seeing a hole in Tony’s
chest where the arc reactor always glowed; thankfully, his training allowed him
to stay compose otherwise his heart would have exploded in frantic beats. He
caressed Tony’s cheek that was drenched in sweat and the older man looked at
him with his puppy eyes filled with gratitude.
“Bruce...”
But Bruce knew already what his friend wanted to tell him; he knew that someone
was there yet he didn’t want to betray his true skills.
“Hush, Tony, we’ll fix it, buddy.”
A cruel snigger answered him and Bruce pretended that just realized the other
presence there. He jerked his head towards the laughter and made his eyes
widen.
“How nice of you to join us...little guy!”
***** Chapter 57 *****
Tony watched as Bruce’s eyes bulged in terror, his face paled and cringed in
Tony’s body. He fought the urge to smile despite the pain for this excellent
performance but he didn’t want to betray Bruce and the way his friend cuddled
him, supposedly from fear, but in fact to protect Tony was very comforting
though the playboy’s priority was Bruce’s life since his own chances were
really low.
Bruce’s eyes narrowed but only internally. As a gatling gun turned to him ready
to fire he used the fearful blinking of his eyes to estimate the threat. It was
the black Ironman’s replica only this time wasn’t bigger than Ironman – exactly
as Tony described it from their fight. So the Iron Monger had a second lighter
and slimmer armor that permitted him to wage a new attack even if his enormous
armor was dysfunctional.
The black Ironman replica stopped laughing and his lenses focused on Bruce.
“If you expect from Stark to save you, you’re a fool, boy” he said and his
voice rattled.
He lifted pompously his left hand and Bruce saw Tony’s arc reactor not glowing
anymore clenched between the villain’s metallic fingers that began slowly
tightening around the life saving object.
“No!” Bruce yelled and his arm tightened protectively around Tony’s ribs.
But Iron Monger with a casual movement crushed the object. Bruce could see the
evil smirk under the black face plate – and honestly among other things he was
angry with this clown for defaming the black color that Batman wore to inflict
justice.
Tony kept his steady breathing which was much easier with Bruce holding him
though the destruction of his arc reactor was a hard – and probably mortal –
blow. He didn’t need to act so he narrowed his eyes to his enemy.
“Bruce has nothing to do with that, so let him go.”
Iron Monger yanked his head without changing his gun’s direction.
“I had no intention to harm your petty friend, Stark yet now that I see him
curled around you, I can’t resist. You’ll die slowly in great agony, I’ll take
Stark Industries and… as you die, you’ll watch him die torn limb by limb…”
His voice had the quality of someone jerking off and Tony would have rolled his
eyes if the gatling gun wasn’t stirring. He raised his palm.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Tony shouted. “Bruce is innocent; he doesn’t have any
involvement to your grudge against me. C’me on” you stupid tin-can! “you know
he doesn’t deserve to die!”
Bruce wanted to arch an eyebrow yet kept shaking from fear and using Tony’s
distraction to his advantage pressing his wrist watch: he was really enraged
with that man who wounded Tony.
“He’s your best friend, Stark” Iron Monger tilted his head “he might not
deserve to die yet you definitely deserve to watch him die, dissected because
of you! You heard what he suffered all these years while you partied; now
you’ll watch him being tortured till he dies cursing the moment he met you!”
Tony forgot his pain and weakness and tried to surge against his enemy
clenching his teeth but Bruce held him and turned to look at the black Ironman.
“How did you get inside my office?” he mumbled.
And now their enemy sniggered.
“Is that really your biggest worry now, boy?” he jeered and Bruce took a cute
hurt expression that made Tony classified him as a helluva actor. “Killing you
will piss some people yet I don’t give a damn: I’ll end the game now! You see,
Stark, my luck began smiling; I got into his office to kidnap him and lure you
in a trap. But you came, I destroyed you” he laughed “you never imagined that
someone could make the technology to rip your arc reactor from afar!” his head
turned to Bruce “and now your pet-friend came by for me to kill him and force
you to watch.”
And how you knew to get inside?Bruce wondered.
Tony’s eyes widened and he forced his fainting body to rise, once again being
smoothly and discreetly set back by Bruce. Tony frowned; little guy certainly
had a plan.
“Your entire life you knew pain but I assure you, boy, nothing like this!” he
hissed and two thin barrels protruded from both his shoulders.
Tony gasped: laser beam canons! The bastard would really maim Bruce. His breath
was caught in his suffering lungs and he saw Bruce dropping to his knees. What
he was up to? He surely didn’t plan to attack Iron Monger and give away his
secret.
Iron Monger’s loud laughter shook his face plate.
“Kneeling and begging won’t help you, little guy! I say we begin with ripping
slowly a hand; which was your cripple hand? Hm...Never mind…”
The small laser cannons focused on Bruce’s left hand with a horrible humming
sound and Tony’s heart stopped.
However Bruce was completely calm fighting a smirk.
A miserable sound replaced the expectable sound of the laser launch and despite
the face plate Iron Monger’s shock was evident; only to become panic when all
of a sudden his armor began disappearing rapidly after his arc reactor shut
off.
Tony frowned and gaped while Bruce who had his eyes shut waiting the pain from
Iron Monger’s blow began opening them shyly to see what had happened and he was
spared. Exactly as the face plate disappeared too leaving Obadiah Stane’s face
uncovered. Of course, Bruce couldn’t show that he knew the man but Tony grinded
his teeth.
“You sonovabitch!” he yelled and surged from his place forgetting the pain and
Bruce held him before falling to the floor.
Obadiah’s face was death pale and began sweating heavily. He was completely
exposed and unarmed. How that happened? He couldn’t explain it. That wasn’t
supposed to happen; he knew his armor and his controlling systems didn’t show
any anomaly that could lead to the complete collapse of his armor. He was
enraged more than scared that Stark knew who his enemy was.
“Your father stole from me the Industries I created and plagiarized my
inventive genius!” he barked. “He took all the credit for MY work and chased me
mercilessly to not prove myself better than him!”
He shoved his hand in his pants pocket to pull his gun; Iron Monger might have
had countless arm systems but this time he was prepared for everything.
“I don’t know what destroyed my armor but your death is certain and your
friend’s too!” he pulled the gun but immediately was wrestled down by a team of
security men who entered the room without Stane noticing. “That’s impossible!”
he screamed struggling to escape the security. “I had destroyed the connection
with the security! Damn you, Stark!”
But Tony smirked as the security guys handcuffed Stane; these tricks weren’t
his…
Bruce ran to his desk and pressed the phone’s screen.
“Pepper Potts” he ordered and in seconds Pepper answered him. “Pepper, bring
the emergency arc reactor in my office immediately!”
“Tony?” she uttered poised but definitely shaken.
“Yes...Hurry, Pepper; take Alfred!”
He ended the call brushing the screen and rushed at Tony’s side.
“Call Leslie Thompkins” he ordered the men of security who dragged outside
Stane looking dumbfounded at Tony. “Go!” he yelled at them and slumped beside
his friend.
Tony huffed exhausted.
“Mmmm… I like drawing everyone’s eyes but not in this case…” he made to laugh
yet he grimaced from the pain. “Motherfucker!”
Bruce cupped his friend’s face and Tony saw shocked his friend’s eyes ready to
leak.
“Easy, Tony...just don’t, don’t exert yourself.”
Tony focused his eyes on Bruce’s savoring the love in there.
“What did you do to Stane?” he asked trying to divert his friend’s attention
from his imminent death.
“After you told me about your battle with a replica of Ironman, I talked with
Lucius and he enriched my wrist watch with a special type of nano-technology
waves that neutralize the weapon systems, the arc reactor and eventually the
armor itself. It’s an emergency measure for when I wouldn’t wear the armor and
you wouldn’t be there.”
Tony wanted to slap himself but he didn’t have the power.
“And both of you didn’t tell me...Sneaky Gothamites!” he grimaced again from a
painful pang. “It was a nice surprise though…”
Bruce’s eyes captured every slight motion in Tony’s face reading his agony and
Tony smiled cheerfully to comfort him.
“So...I’d better not be stark naked under my armor, huh? Not that anyone will
complain…” he grunted in pain and Bruce’s breath was abruptly caught in a
child-like sigh.
Tony sobered and followed with his eyes Bruce’s trembling hand that rested over
the void in his chest. He struggled to even his breath and searched his
friend’s eyes; Bruce looked him in the eyes scared and helpless and Tony was
sure that Bruce’s eyes had the same expression when he witnessed his parents
shot down. It was more painful to him seeing Bruce like this: scared and
shaken.
“I’m dying, little guy…” he said to him gently and Bruce shook his head in
denial clenching his jaw.
“No, you’re not!” he saw his parents die, he saw so much death and horror; he
won’t see Tony dying too. “Pepper is on her way!”
Tony shook his head.
“You know there’s no chance she’ll make it on time…” he closed his eyes and
took a deep breath; Bruce was looking at the void the arc reactor had left and
Tony wanted so much to see his eyes. “Look at me, buddy.”
Bruce obliged and Tony smiled.
“I lived eighteen years believing you dead - without your presence… That was
nightmare, little guy...though I know I didn’t give the impression of a
desperate man…” he chuckled.
Bruce struggled to find his composure and help his friend setting aside his own
panic.
“Please, don’t speak, Tony. I know how much you suffered all these years - I
know how much you love me.”
“I’ve got to say…”
“You’ll have all the time you need after you recover.”
Tony rested his head on the couch’s back.
“I’m sorry, little guy that I am not the one I should.”
Bruce was puzzled now and his agony peaked.
“I’m sorry I didn’t remain the Tony of your childhood; I’m sorry I ruined
everything…”
“Tony, you didn’t…” his eyebrows were furrowed and his heart beat faster.
But Tony nodded.
“I wish I was that pure” he smirked “well, not much pure...boy. I wish I was
worthy of touching you…” he got sweaty and dying wasn’t the reason “giving you
back your first time...get you back from the monsters…” he felt wetness in his
eyes and shut his eyes angry.
Bruce shook his head and wrapped his arm under Tony’s shoulders to support him.
“Forget it, Tony; it was just my stupidity. You did the right thing, the wise
thing. Whatever we might have had is lost; things are different from then and
I’m just happy I am with you again.”
“I was the one you trusted to touch you without hurting you but the thing is…”
he smiled. “I don’t trust myself that I won’t hurt you. You’ll find the one to
love you as you deserve…”
“I don’t care about that, Tony; I just want you with me. I don’t want to lose
you…”
Tony smiled.
“You’re tough, little guy; the toughest I ever met. It might hurt at the
beginning but then you’ll be just fine…”
“You won’t die!”
“Pepper won’t make it…” he let his eyelids lower. “Tell her that I love her and
that I’m sorry I tormented her all these years.”
But Bruce yanked his head.
“You’ll tell her yourself!”
But Tony didn’t urge his eyelids to lift so he didn’t see Bruce taking out of
his pocket the vial with the Water of Immortality. He jerked his eyes open as
the younger man supported his head and showed him the vial.
“What’s...that?” he mumbled.
“What you and Lucius achieved: the Water of immortality!” he opened it hastily
and brought it to Tony’s lips who looked him mock wearily.
“Is it approved? Because I don’t want to die…”
Bruce chuckled and gave him to drink.
“Tasty…” Tony whispered.
Bruce watched eagerly his friend’s face, sending agonized glances at the wall
watch. He hoped that the medicine will at least keep his friend alive till
Pepper arrived. Yet Tony let his head collapse on Bruce’s arm and Bruce
realized with terror that his friend’s body was bereft of vitality.
“Seems...that...your potion” Tony made a feeble attempt on chuckling
“needs...some time to work...and it’s late for me…”
Bruce’s stare became of steel.
“Cut the crap, Stark and don’t you dare let go! The brew acts instantly! It
saved me when I…” he stopped abruptly realizing his mistake; he didn’t want to
tell Tony about that yet his friend’s eyes were already stabbing him demanding.
“I had cut my jugular with a katana…” he added reluctantly.
Tony shook slightly his head.
“You said it was just a nightmare…Why you didn’t tell me it was real? Why you
keep everything inside, buddy?”
Bruce held Tony’s hand and smiled.
“I’ll try to be better, Tony, from now on.”
Tony smiled tired.
“You’re perfect, little guy; you just need to speak more… to the
others...because I won’t be here…”
Bruce clenched his jaw to fight off the despair and the panic.
“Melodrama doesn’t suit you, veteran!”
Tony laughed but cough stopped him violently; Bruce brushed the stray locks
from Tony’s sweaty forehead.
“Pepper is coming, Tony…” he said gently, soothingly. “Please…”
But Tony’s eyes closed and Bruce felt his heart exploding. He cupped his
friend’s head and shook it softly.
“No!” he screamed but immediately his voice was bent by a sob. “No, you too,
Tony…”
The despair made Bruce’s body and mind succumb to the overall exhaustion; he
nestled his head on the empty circle that was Tony’s arc reactor.
“No, please…It can’t be…why?”
He saw again his mother collapsing to the wet cement of the alley and then his
father; he submerged in that night, in that alley only this time he didn’t run;
he stayed there and kneeled beside their bodies and nestled in their cold
chests and cried silently as he was doing right now with Tony.
He was so absorbed in that scene that didn’t feel a weak stir and a hand that
feathery caressed his sweaty locks.
“You shouldn’t cry for anyone, Bruce…”
His shock was overwhelming because he didn’t believe he would hear again that
voice. He jerked his head and opened widely his tearful eyes to the most
beautiful sight of the world: Tony beaming. He didn’t ask how, he just hugged
him tightly and Tony gasped.
“Ow, ow! This is a bear hug, huh? Or should I say… a” he lowered his voice “bat
hug?”
But Bruce couldn’t speak, just tightened his grip scared that he’d lose Tony
again. He wanted to laugh but he could only continue crying like a small kid.
Tony cupped his friend’s face that was nestled against his chest and lifted it
to lock his eyes with Bruce’s tired ones.
“Your magic potion is indeed magic, buddy… C’me on, you cry more now than when
I was dying…” he teased him chuckling.
Bruce was speechless: it was the greatest gift.
“Tony!”
Both men jerked their heads towards that so familiar voice although the tone of
extreme worry was new. Pepper had halted on the threshold, Alfred at her heels;
she was flushed and her eyes wild, worried and determined at the same time. She
was holding the case with the spare arc reactor.
Bruce jerked upright and gestured to Pepper to come.
“What happened?” she gasped.
“Tony Stark is a tough nut, honey!” Tony exclaimed. “He’s stayin’ alive,
stayin’ alive…” he sang and Pepper lolled her head rolling her eyes to Bruce.
“It’s the shock…” Bruce said to Pepper and opened the case placing the reactor
to Tony’s chest.
Tony took a deep breath as the reactor gave a sharp glow and then settled to
the regular mode.
“I thought that we wouldn’t make it on time despite Alfred’s rally driving”
Pepper still shaken said to Bruce.
“I gave him the Water and it kept him...He almost…”
He didn’t have to end his phrase for her to understand and realize that she
almost lost Tony. She fell unceremoniously over Tony and began kissing him.
“Oi! Oi! Girl! Wow! I must repeat it from time to time to remind you the
treasure you have and don’t appreciate…”
She punched him in the gut.
“Cut it, Stark!”
He made a grimace of mock pain.
“Ouch! I just had a near death experience and I expect to be pampered…” he
grabbed Pepper’s head and locked his lips with hers in a passionate, mighty
kiss.
“It feels like life!” Tony howled and continued the kiss.
Bruce acknowledged now the exhaustion and the aftermath of the emotional flood
he experienced the last hours. He felt a tormenting void seeing Tony and Pepper
together and retreated towards the door the guilt clenching his heart as the
scenes of what he tried to do to Tony, to his relationship with Pepper, to his
friend’s happiness returned. He was grateful for having his friend back but he
was ashamed of himself.
Alfred apprehended him and Bruce avoided his kind eyes.
“What happened, Master Bruce?”
He rubbed the arches of his eyes: now that the adrenaline ebbed it wasn’t only
the exhaustion that took hold of him but also an excruciating headache.
“Obadiah Stane had stolen Ironman’s tech, somehow broke into my office and
destroyed Tony’s arc reactor.”
“We saw police arriving to take him.”
Bruce frowned.
“And no officer came here to take a testimony?” that was weird.
“Maybe they’ll send someone later?”
“Maybe” he just wanted some time to get a grip.
“How do you feel, sir? You had a rough night and you’re supposedly recovering.”
Leslie came almost running followed by a team of paramedics carrying a
stretcher. She saw Bruce surprised; obviously, she expected that he was the
injured. And then she frowned taking in his T-shirt.
“It’s Tony, Leslie. He had his arc reactor removed and almost…” Bruce answered
her gaze and watched her as she rushed to the couch.
He pretended that he didn’t feel Alfred’s intense gaze; his loyal and
affectionate butler was trying to discern any signs of injuries and the
emotions his young master hid. Bruce wanted Alfred to care only for Tony though
Tony as always was swarmed by people.
 
Perry came out of his office and instantly everyone stopped what was doing
turning their attention to the editor.
“A new attack at the Wayne Tower.”
Clark’s eyes widened and Lois turned her gaze to him.
“Wayne’s office.”
Clark bit his lip; Bruce was in the building probably in his office. Who the
Hell was this time? Joker was in jail. Ugh! Why they didn’t leave Bruce alone?
He took in Lois’ sympathizing stare and nodded slightly.
“Hostage situation again, Perry?” Lois asked what Clark craved to ask.
“No, it seems that the situation ended before the local press even took
notice.”
“Who did it this time?” another reporter asked and Clark groaned because the
question that burned him was other.
“Nobody knows; information is obscure. The Tower’s security apprehended the guy
and gave him to the police but from there nothing.”
“Who…who did he attack?” Clark asked shyly and Lois pressed her lips.
“Stark was transported to Thompkins’ free clinic; it seems that the intruder
attacked him and Wayne yet Stark got injured trying to protect his friend. Not
badly though.”
Clark sighed internally in relief not only because Bruce wasn’t injured but
also because Stark was fine. He might not be very fond of the guy but he was
one of the good ones and Bruce’s best friend and if anything happened to him
it’d be a major blow to Bruce.
“Kent, Gotham is your thing and after the ‘big three massacre’ and the new
attack you go there ASAP.”
 
Leslie took Tony to the free clinic where she treated him a thorough set of
examinations to make sure that everything was fine.
At some point lieutenant Bullock came and took Bruce from Alfred and Pepper to
Leslie’s office for a testimony. Bruce had intended to call Jim to ask about
Stane but Bullock affirmed his suspicion telling him that the officers who took
Stane were fake and now Gotham’s police scoured the city and the surrounding
areas.
When Bullock left Bruce stayed at Leslie’s office; he was sure that GCPD won’t
achieve something; he had the certainty that the League came to the rescue of
its collaborator. Damn! If they had Stane in prison, they’d manage to make him
tell more about the League’s plans or name his other partners - plus, they
would have eliminated one threat. One threat to Tony specifically.
He rubbed his forehead. The League wanted to kill Tony probably in order to
deprive him from his ally and friend...and to take revenge making him suffer
before launching their attack on him. However he wondered if today Stane
operated on his own or on League’s orders. Stane said that came to his office
to kidnap him and lure Tony to a trap. So the League didn’t tell Stane that
Bruce was Batman otherwise Stane wouldn’t dare to attack Batman so soon after
their battle and without proper preparation. So he acted on his own because the
League wouldn’t have allowed such a lame operation.
But there were more questions: the old question about how Stane got the
information about Ironman’s armor and the new one about how Stane knew the way
to get in his office.
He clenched his waist; there was a key-factor that would explain everything but
evaded him. He sighed and he was worried about Tony: what if all this had left
something in Tony’s sensitive organism or some shrapnel had escaped and were
slowly travelling to kill his heart.
A knock on the door dragged him out of his thoughts.
It was Leslie. Bruce smiled.
“You knock to get in your own office?”
Leslie walked slowly to him.
“When someone else occupies it… How are you?”
“Fine. How’s Tony?”
“We finished his tests” she locked her eyes with his taking in his instant
irritation. “And now we should see you too.”
Bruce crossed his arms and shook his head.
“I’m fine. Tony almost died: you focus on him not me. You...you scanned
me...what? Yesterday?”
Leslie crossed her arms.
“You don’t remember?”
Bruce rolled his eyes.
“Of course I do! I got a concussion not Alzheimer! Is everything alright with
Tony?”
She nodded.
“He is perfectly fine. His organism doesn’t manifest signs of something
worrisome or of shock; your medicine is really good. Our Tony can return home
in an hour; he only needs some rest. And I hope he is smarter than you and
listens.”
Bruce pursed his lips.
“Leslie, listen…”
But Leslie didn’t.
“Your eyes show that you have at least 24 hours to sleep, your T-shirt is
inside-out and you smell alcohol! I know that you never had the chance to learn
to care about yourself living among those monsters” Bruce grimaced and yanked
his head. “But you’re a very intelligent young man: you made an entire feat to
liberate yourself, to defeat your enemies and save this city. And now that you
finally prevailed you can’t honestly want to wear yourself to death!”
Bruce brought his hands on his face and rubbed his eyes; why this discussion
again and again? He took his hands of his face and looked Leslie in the eyes.
“You think that I have a death wish?”
Leslie sighed.
“I certainly hope not yet you neglect yourself so much that you reach the death
wish level even if you don’t realize it.”
“Leslie, stop worrying about me. I…I realize that it looks like I don’t care
about my health but it’s…just that there are urgent matters I have to catch up.
And last night was a big mistake that I won’t make again. But now, please, you
should focus on Tony’s recovery. He almost died…”
Leslie nodded.
“It was very hard for you…”
Bruce locked his eyes with hers.
“That’s why I want you to keep your eyes on Tony instead of me; I don’t want
Tony hurt…” he wanted to say ‘because of me’ yet he wanted to evade a new
pointless discussion.
Leslie held his upper arms and smiled.
“The best you can do to achieve that is to take care of yourself. Tony will be
fine but it’s up to you to not be hurt. For Tony the worst thing is seeing you
neglecting yourself. Not taking your supplements, not eating regularly, not
resting.”
Bruce was really tired of hearing this all the time. He rubbed the bridge of
his nose.
“Are you in pain?”
“A bit” he answered to appease Leslie.
She nodded knowing.
“That from you means a lot of pain...And I suppose you haven’t eaten the last
couple of hours” Bruce rolled his eyes. “Well, go to Tony’s room; I have sent a
tray of breakfast for you too. You’ll eat breakfast together and I’ll give you
some painkillers after.”
She patted his upper arm.
“Maybe you should wear your T-shirt the right way?” she asked raising an
eyebrow.
Bruce shook his head and smiled. He took off his T-shirt and wore it the right
way. And then Leslie touched the finger shaped bruise on his forearm and looked
at him questioningly.
“Some fight last night; it doesn’t even hurt.”
She nodded.
“Do you want to scan it?”
He shook his head in denial and grinned.
“No need. Tony would be waiting and I’m hungry!”
But Leslie tilted her head to the side and snorted.
“As if I don’t know you, young man… Go and be careful with your… nightly
activities.”
Bruce grabbed the chance and dashed out of the office relieved like when he was
really young and Leslie caught him in mischief. However his relief became dread
when he saw Pepper coming his way. Unfortunately, he couldn’t avoid her.
She smiled seeing him and he realized that he was blushed.
“Tony wants to see you and he told me that he doesn’t like his bacon cold…” she
lolled her head and smiled.
Bruce pressed his lips and clenched his jaw; he had to tell everything to
Pepper. He didn’t know if Tony told her anything but he wanted to be sure that
nothing would cast its shadow to their relationship even if that meant ruining
his friendship with Pepper.
“Pepper, can we talk?” he asked serious and Pepper frowned.
“Of course.”
He led her to a small conference room and closed the door.
“It’s about last night, Pepper; I don’t know if Tony told you anything.”
She brought her hand on her head.
“No, he didn’t; with everything that happened I totally forgot.”
Bruce nodded.
“Tony might not want to tell you to...to protect me” Pepper made to say
something. “I threw myself at Tony” he said with just a breath and looked at
the young woman waiting her reaction. “You can slap me.”
But Pepper was just confused and her eyes had nothing close to anger; only
understanding.
“Are you in love with him?”
Bruce closed his eyes and yanked his head.
“No” he answered rubbing his aching forehead. “I don’t know what’s gotten me
but I tried to use Tony to cajole my ego, to ease my insecurities…But I never
thought of taking Tony from you...not that this is an excuse for me…” he closed
his eyes. “Tony repelled me…”
Pepper did the last thing Bruce would expect: hugged him and patted his back.
“I’m sorry, Pepper…”
She kissed him on the cheek.
“Don’t, Bruce...don’t. I understand; Tony is your best friend, he took care of
you when you were really young. I bet you were thinking of him while captive.
You two are extremely tied even though you were separated for so many years;
you have a very special connection. You needed someone you trust in a moment of
crisis; you have so many things to torment you, so many thoughts and feelings
that it must be chaotic. And that concussion must have made things worse not to
mention the drugs Joker gave you.”
“You’re not mad at me?”
She lifted her head and looked him in the eyes smiling.
“Of course not.”
“Neither with Tony?”
Pepper laughed.
“I would if he had taken advantage of your difficult moment. But he is good
despite the image he shows to the others.”
Bruce nodded.
“He is and he loves you; you’re very important to him. You should realize that
he is aware of how lucky he is to have you at his side.”
 
“C’me on, buddy! My eggs are getting cold and some kind soul - Leslie I guess -
sent breakfast for you too.”
Bruce saw Tony cheerful and his eyes shone. Now he indeed was starving.
“At least, I didn’t find you with a couple of nurses...Or you don’t like Gotham
girls?” he smirked sitting at the chair beside Tony’s bed.
Tony lolled his head and cocked his eyebrows.
“I am a good boy now, Bruce and believe me, if I didn’t succumb to DAT last
night, I won’t succumb to anything!” he moved his eyebrows suggestively.
Bruce who had taken the croissant from his tray froze and blushed. Tony looked
him in the eyes.
“Chill out, boy! Nothing happened. I’m your friend.”
Bruce took a reluctant bite.
“I told everything to Pepper” he said without looking at Tony.
Now Tony left his plastic fork on the tray.
“And?”
Bruce looked at him.
“She is not mad at me…”
Tony scratched his nape.
“And at me?’’
“Of course not. You did nothing after all. Tony, I’m sorry…I…”
Tony lifted his hand to stop him.
“Don’t say anything, Bruce” he gulped. “It’s my fault too: that night I managed
to take you from Falcone I was on the verge of…touching you inappropriately.”
Bruce nodded.
“From frustration. From disappointment. From anger. From sadness.’’
Tony stared at his bare feet.
“That’s true but it’s also true that you’re a gorgeous man: if things were
different, if those years were different, I’d definitely have tried from the
start to be with you, to be worthy of you” he knitted his eyebrows. “If I was a
better man without my past, if I ever managed to stop seeing you like the
little angel you were…and still are…”
Bruce opened his mouth to protest but Tony shook his head in denial.
“From the beginning of our friendship you were something special for me, a
little angel whom I wanted to protect from everyone even from myself. You were
my baby brother…and that day in your room, when I almost…” he closed his eyes.
“I noticed how beautiful you are and felt the whim to make you mine. But it was
monstrous even for a horny teen like me. Now you’re my brother I had lost for
almost twenty years, whom I believed dead and came back to me; you’re … sacred
even for a scum like me, Bruce.”
Bruce bit his lip.
“Tony, I’m not…” he whispered. “All these years they used me in every possible
filthy way, they made me a whore” he chuckled “I proved it last night trying to
seduce my brother…” he lowered his head. “And the worst thing is that I don’t
feel the desire to be loved, I just wanted to know that someone good, like you,
could love and touch me. It was selfish and bratty…’’
He brought his hands on his face and rubbed his eyes.
“Ugh! I can’t explain it! I don’t want my body touched again; I’m more than
happy with my people’s love yet I wanted to prove to all these people who made
me a whore that I can be approached by good people who see me like a human
being not an object for use.”
Tony’s eyes were tearful and he pouted. He could imagine those monsters rape
his little friend mocking him and poisoning his broken heart. He stretched his
hand that still had the hospital bracelet and held Bruce’s hand.
“At some point you’ll feel the desire to be loved, Bruce; I’m sure. You beat
those people once and you’ll beat them again being happy with another person: a
good man or woman.” He sighed. “Who will be very lucky to have you…And I’ll be
there and I’ll be happy…”
Bruce kept his eyes locked with Tony’s without believing that this could
happen; not that he cared. However, he didn’t say anything to not spoil his
friend’s mood.
Tony coughed as Bruce sipped from his orange juice.
“By the way, it’s there a chance you teach Pepper that enchanting ‘dance’ of
your hips on mine?”
Bruce choked in his juice and stared at Tony flashed.
“Tony!”
“Why? Such useful knowledge should be spread…to chosen people…” he winked.
Bruce’s eyes bulged and he arched his eyebrows so Tony sighed and settled back
on his pillow.
“I guess that means ‘no’.”
They ate silently their breakfast when Tony saw again the bruises on Bruce’s
wrists.
“Who did that, little guy?” he pointed with his fork. “Remember, in my death
bed you said that you’ll speak more to me; that you won’t keep secrets. And
don’t tell me you’re not happy to have me here with you…so you can start
showing your happiness…”
Bruce shook his head.
“I didn’t say that, Tony.”
Tony purged his lips.
“You don’t trust me?”
Bruce yanked his head insulted.
“Of course I do!”
The older man shook his head and pouted his lips.
“Then you think that I can’t handle what happens to you or you don’t want to
make me worry or…whatever. Well, buddy, not speaking to me makes me worry
more.”
“Bagdana” Bruce answered nonchalant taking a bite of muffin.
Tony cocked an eyebrow.
“What’s that?”
Bruce scratched his forehead.
“You remember that demon in my nightmare?” he asked casually and Tony nodded
frowning. “It wasn’t just a nightmare.”
Tony gasped and his eyes widened.
“A demon chases you? He attacked you? Fuck!” he jerked upwards.
But Bruce gestured to him to relax.
“I managed to repel him; I found a way…” he suddenly remembered the Black
Butterfly in his jacket tossed on his bedroom’s floor; thankfully, the demon
didn’t try anything; maybe being among people who loved him worked as a shield.
Tony shook his head and yanked his head.
“Damn! As if our human enemies weren’t enough!” suddenly it dawned to him. “And
you cut your carotid after Ra’s gave you to the demon.”
Bruce nodded.
“You never told me that it wasn’t just a nightmare; I had to almost die for you
to tell me…”
“I…” he pressed his lips; Tony didn’t understand how difficult it was to speak
about that.
Tony shook his head.
“Okay, we must find a way to get rid of that…thing permanently.”
“I don’t think that it is possible. He is an ancient, powerful demon.”
He narrated what he had found about Bagdana and Lilith and how Ra’s saw his
birthmark and believed that he is Lilith’s descendant. Tony whistled in awe and
scratched his hair.
“Shit!” and then still puzzled. “A demon? And he believes that you’re Lilith,
his dead mate… Oh, boy!”
“Ra’s believed that as well. According to my mother’s diary he was watching me
years before my parents’ murder. He must have known about the birthmark early
so I think that he had targeted my family before I was born – probably, because
his dream-project was to destroy Gotham and of course my parents were an
obstacle.”
Tony pursed his lips and nodded solemnly.
“Maybe he planned to kill you to hit your parents but learning about the
birthmark he changed his mind wanting to exploit you to take what he wanted
from the demon. It’s like an occult thriller…”
Bruce arched his eyebrows.
“From those that we laugh at. I know I’m not Lilith’s descendant.”
But Tony’s expression was doubtful and Bruce frowned.
“I don’t know, buddy; you certainly allure people…” not to mention seduce he
thought but still his friend crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “The
important is that he believes it and…Fuck! Thor was right!”
Bruce widened his eyes.
“Thor?”
“You remember that he came at the press conference” Bruce nodded. “He wanted to
warn me that a demon stalks you and he asked me if you had encounters with
him.”
Bruce sighed.
“I thought that it was only Fury… and now Thor too? What’s wrong with your
friends?”
Tony winked.
“It’s the alluring aura of Lilith’s last descendant” he answered and Bruce
rolled his eyes. “Actually, Asgard watches over the earth and they caught that
unusual supernatural activity.” He scratched his temple. “What troubles me is
how we fight off that creature?” he raised his eyes on Bruce “You’re the most
amazing warrior I know but how can you resist such force, especially when…” the
demon desires you desperately.
Bruce understood.
“The Black Butterfly.” Tony’s eyebrows stretched upwards. “It seems that the
gem has a repelling power and enables me to fight him” Tony gaped. “According
to mythology, the ancient Greek goddess Nemesis had that diamond with her in
the battle between the gods and Bagdana and his minions; it was that gem that
enabled Zeus to defeat Bagdana and exile him to the Tartarus.”
Tony cocked an eyebrow and whistled impressed.
“And it is the gem you inherited from Martha…the supposed descendant of a
demon. How your mother got the diamond?”
“My father went to Greece to offer help to the victims of an earthquake; my
mother had seen Ra’s in my room and he threatened her that he’ll take me” Tony
shook slowly his head. “So my parents decided to take me with them so that Ra’s
loses their tracks. The earthquake hit a small city called Marathon” Bruce
pierced Tony with his stare. “At the outskirts of this city lies the ancient
temple of Goddess Nemesis…”
“Holly… And you told me that your father operated and saved a small girl whose
parents gave your mother the diamond. Wow! And you went there to give them the
gem back but they refused to take it.”
Bruce nodded and Tony shook his head.
“This can’t be a coincidence, little guy. Do you think that these people know?”
Bruce bit another muffin.
“My mother wrote in her diary that Cassandra’s mother gave her the gem saying
that it was for my protection. I called Cassandra and asked her but she didn’t
want to speak.”
Tony pressed his lips.
“Damn! And you think these people…”
Bruce raised his eyebrows and shook his head.
“Cassandra’s mother must be some kind of priestess to Nemesis or a descendant
of priests. So she definitely knows some things yet Cassandra was very hesitant
to speak.”
“They could give us a solution…”
“For the time being I’ll keep the Butterfly with me.”
Tony stared at his friend.
“Last night wasn’t the first time he attacked you, right?”
Bruce nodded.
“He is very persistent: first at the cave the night we arrested Joker; then at
the Tower’s parking and then at my bed in the Manor.”
Tony grinded his teeth and closed his eyes.
“And you didn’t say anything…”
“At first I thought it was the concussion and the drugs that messed with my
head but then I had a flashback…”
“What flashback?”
Bruce brought his fist to his mouth and coughed; he always felt uncomfortable
sharing his flashbacks and thus his experiences while captive.
“After Ra’s offered me to Bagdana one night the demon found me at the cabaret
.”
“And?” he asked lowering his voice because he knew what the demon wanted from
the kid.
Bruce ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.
“He used me again…And after I had this flashback I was sure that the nightmare
wasn’t just a nightmare and the demon was real.”
Tony nodded and then jerked his head.
“Wait, wait!” he raised his hand. “And from then you didn’t have another
encounter with the demon otherwise you would remember it from the start; not to
mention that that Bagdana guy wouldn’t have let you go.”
“Right. When Ra’s realized that the demon wouldn’t stop decided to keep him
away from me using Ubu’s” he took in Tony’s inquire about Ubu “he is the loyal
minion of Ra’s, one of my trainers. Well, Ubu was the one who gave me something
when they summoned the demon and he gave me something else that kept the demon
away from me…till now. Also, they gave me something to forget everything about
the demon.”
Tony pouted and shook his head crossing his arms.
“So that guy knows how to keep the demon away…”
“Only he is loyal to the League which brings us to Obadiah Stane.”
Tony’s face flared up from anger.
“That sonovabitch! He dared to threaten you! I’ll visit him at MCU…” his teeth
rattled.
“I’m afraid you won’t find him there.”
“Huh?”
“I spoke with Bullock and he told me that the officers who took Stane weren’t
real officers. GCPD’s car came to the Tower a couple of minutes later.
Probably, he was picked up by his partners. Police searches the city but I
doubt they’ll find anything.”
Tony clenched his teeth.
“The League of Shadows! So they want to get rid of me to get to you unbothered
and they use that scum!”
Bruce tapped his lips.
“I’m positive they want to divide us to achieve their goal – it’s their style,
after all – yet I highly doubt that what happened today was their plan” he
shook his head. “It’s too amateur for them and their leader knows that I was
trained by Ra’s Al Ghul and I killed him so they wouldn’t have attempted an
attack to the front and if they have they wouldn’t have used Stane for that
unless they wanted a distraction like last night; but nothing else happened at
the time of the attack.”
“So he was acting for himself.”
Bruce nodded.
“Using the League’s information about your armor and…”
“How he got inside your office…My armor didn’t have any info about the security
in your office and if he had broken into then the security would have known.”
“Exactly” his head throbbed but he ignored it. “And to add to the stolen
Ironman armor, the League uses for its project ‘egis’ the organizational model
of S.H.I.E.L.D. so I don’t think that the attack on their headquarters in
Sydney was random.”
“So the League prepares a war against S.H.I.E.L.D.”
“The guns that were used last night in the ‘big three massacre’ were
manufactured by Lex Luthor and sold to S.H.I.E.L.D.”
Tony nodded thoughtful.
“Fury told us and it’s obvious: Luthor sold the weapons to S.H.I.E.L.D. and
found a way through that to breach the organization’s database. And we know
that he works with the League so he gave them the info.”
However Bruce wasn’t convinced and bit his lips.
“Luthor works with the League but I doubt that he had any connection with the
gun stealing and the project ‘egis’; he is a very intelligent man…” Tony
groaned. “So definitely he wouldn’t want his name connected in such activities
even as lightly as being the manufacturer of the stolen weapons that were used
in a crime. I mean, he knows that his reputation isn’t the best so he is aware
that when the weapons he sold to an international organization get stolen
following the breach of that organization’s super secret data, he’ll be under
scrutiny; and he definitely doesn’t want that especially when he prepares a
major hit.”
Tony crossed his arms.
“So the League set him up.”
Bruce raised his eyebrows.
“And I think it’s only the beginning: the League will use its allies and then
dispose them of.”
“Yes but Luthor and Stane surely would have some leverage; at least, Luthor” he
lolled his head. “It’s not his style to trust his allies.”
“Yes, but the League is like a ghost; nobody in the high ranks believes in its
existence and who will believe Luthor or Stane when they’ll be faced with
felonies. And we don’t know how solid their leverage against the League is.”
“What about Miranda Tate?”
“She is definitely the League’s representative and her name is connected with
the ambitious project ‘egis’.”
Tony frowned from what crossed his mind.
“Do you gather that she may be the League’s new leader?”
Bruce pressed his lips.
“We can’t rule this out but what makes me doubt it is that her name was so
easily accessible – for the League’s standards. The sure thing is that she is a
high rank member.”
“And you never met her?”
The younger man smiled.
“Ra’s kept me isolated from the others, a top secret. He had a few very trusted
people to train me and never brought me in contact with the other members of
the League.”
“But she knows about you.”
Bruce lifted an eyebrow.
“If she is indeed the leader, certainly; if she just follows the orders of her
superiors, no.”
“We should alarm S.H.I.E.L.D. about the danger.”
“Not yet.”
Tony jerked his head and looked pointedly at Bruce.
“Maybe you should sidestep your mistrust about S.H.I.E.L.D.?”
Bruce stared at his hands,
“Not yet. Not till I found the missing factor to the equation…Where’s Alfred?”
Tony tilted his head and smirked.
“Plotting with Leslie…”
Bruce smiled fondly and Tony called the one who knocked the door to come in.
“Speaking of the devil…” the playboy said conspiratorially to Bruce.
Leslie crossed her arms and approached.
“I’m the devil, Anthony?”
Tony took his playboy expression and blinked innocently.
“No, you’re an angel, Leslie!”
Leslie shook her head disapprovingly.
“I should have made you an enema…” she said flatly and Bruce chuckled under
Tony’s hurt expression.
“Bruce is the bad guy here” he protested gesturing to his friend. “He isn’t
listening to you; I’m obedient like a puppy.”
Leslie cocked an eyebrow and Bruce glared at Tony.
“I brought your painkillers” she turned to Bruce.
“We were talking and I totally forgot that.”
Leslie nodded but her eyes were filled with disbelief as she shed two drops of
a vial to his water and gave it to him. Bruce drank it without objections.
“Now, young gentlemen: I’m going to release you…”
“Like we are in the joint…” Tony rolled his eyes to Bruce who chuckled under
Leslie’s scolding glare.
“But you’ll promise me that you’d get some rest.”
“I’m not the one who has an injured head and refuses to settle down…”
Bruce huffed.
Leslie nodded.
“And you almost died…”
Bruce lifted his eyebrows pointedly to Tony.
“And that’s why I want to live my life to the fullest” the billionaire said
unfazed.
“After you get some rest. As for you, Bruce: Alfred has already your sedatives
and I gave him instructions about the dosage you need for a good sleep after 24
hours without any rest. And I don’t want any excuses!”
“Where’s Alfred?” Bruce asked.
Leslie stared at him.
“I sent him to the Manor after I reassured him that both of you are fine.
Victoria is signing the papers for Tony’s discharge and will wait you at the
back entrance to drive you home.”
Tony snorted amused.
“That pack of reporters didn’t learn about the escape exit yet?” he sneered.
“Leslie, I have my car here” Bruce protested.
Leslie looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t tell me you can’t send it home in auto pilot? It’ll help distracting the
reporters.”
Tony laughed.
“I told you, buddy: the day Leslie will go rogue it’ll be the doom’s day.”
Leslie glared at him, smirking.
“With the feats of both of you I’m almost there, young man…”
 
Obadiah was indecisive whether he should be relieved he wasn’t among policemen
or terrorized that his horrible partner knew what he did without her approval.
The guys in the car were silent and expressionless like robots and made his
blood chill.
At some point one of them bound his eyes so he couldn’t see where they were
going. Definitely out of Gotham; far from Gotham.
After an hour, the car halted, a sound of metallic doors opening, then speeding
again till they stopped.
They dragged him out of the car and inside a building – he heard the heavy door
opening – and then they walked till a new door opened and he was seated in an
armchair. With an abrupt motion the blindfold was taken and he saw that giant
glaring at him.
The giant gestured to the men dressed in police uniforms to leave and retreated
behind Stane’s armchair revealing Talia Al Ghul. She was sitting behind a
grandiose desk from polished rose wood and she was turned to the side facing
the window that was covered with heavy, dark drapes so that Stane couldn’t see
anything from the scenery – Obadiah sighed in relief because if she wanted to
kill him wouldn’t have bothered to hide the location.
The young woman had her palms united in front of her face deep in thought and
didn’t manifest any sign of acknowledgement.
“What am I going to do with you, Obadiah?” her icy cold voice cracked the
silence and startled Stane. “I thought that our last night’s conversation was
clear enough…” she rolled her chair and pierced Stane with black glimmering
eyes like a cobra. “How dare you taking the initiative?! Idiot!” she spat.
Stane made to take his handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his sweat but Bane
grabbed his hand almost breaking it.
“Release him, Bane.”
But Stane didn’t reach again for his handkerchief; despite his apprehension he
didn’t stand to be treated like this.
“My job is to take care of Stark, right? So I did that! Where’s the problem in
that. Lady?!” he shouted.
“Lower. Your. Tone” she said slowly and dangerously as a prowling lioness. “The
problem is that I plan and you execute.”
Stane grimaced.
“Who gave you that right?”
Talia leaned towards him.
“My power, the fact that you use the information I gave you and your idiocy”
her words were stressed and right on the target like the spit of a snake. “You
were stupid enough to attempt an attack at Stark inside Wayne’s office while
Wayne was there. And as it was expected you miserably failed and weren’t for us
you’ll be in prison now.”
Stane frowned.
“How did you know?”
Talia leaned on the back of her chair and smiled.
“Aren’t you happy I knew?” she snorted.
“How? I removed the tracking chip you had installed.”
Talia glued her palms together and shook her head.
“There are many ways to track down an idiot… especially, in an alloy armor I
gave the information to be manufactured” she cocked an eyebrow. “So how you
knew that Stark was going to be in Wayne’s office so early in the morning?”
Stane narrowed his eyes.
“Stop calling me an idiot” he tried to sound dangerous as she but Talia
shrugged.
“When you’ll stop being one. Well?”
Stane shook his head.
“You told me to focus on Stark so I wanted to get rid of him once and for all
and the best way for this is taking his best friend so Ironman comes to his
rescue.”
Talia tapped her fingertips on each other; she didn’t show anything from her
anger but her eyes flared up.
“So you used our knowledge about the security in Bruce’s office to ambush and
kidnap him.”
“When you left last night I wore my second, light armor and monitored the Wayne
Manor from a safe distance waiting to see if Wayne would go to his office. I
was surprised to see his car leaving the Manor before dawn so I tried to follow
him only to lose him suddenly” Talia fought a smirk: the Bat knew how to
disappear. “I took cover in the forest and then I caught the signal of Ironman;
I knew that something was off and waited till I found again the black car and
followed it to the Tower. So early I could grab him easier; I didn’t attack the
car because I’m sure that Stark made his friend’s car a fortress and I didn’t
want Ironman to interfere. I knew how to pass the entrance’s code…”
“With the information I gave you.”
“Right. I reached the boy’s office; I opened the door without a problem”
Talia’s glare darkened more “and got inside. I intended to close the door so
that Wayne didn’t suspect anything and come in but then I saw that Stark was in
the floor so I let the door ajar to make him eager to catch the intruder. The
fool came in believing that he could beat anyone but before he could do
anything I used my magnetic field radiance to extract his arc reactor and
incapacitate him.”
He stopped satisfied with himself trying to decipher his ally’s dark eyes but
he couldn’t make out anything.
“I closed the door and just savored the sight of Stark dying when my system
alarmed me that someone was coming. I hoped it was Bruce and my hopes came
true. I was thrilled because I’d kill Stark and get you the boy” of course he
knew better than saying to her that he planned to kill slowly the youth to make
Stark’s death more torturous and with dread saw in Talia’s eyes that she
suspected his true intentions. “But then” he hurried to add “something happened
and my armor fell apart at once.”
He knitted his eyebrows suddenly understanding.
“You did it, right?”
Talia shook her head in denial and Stane narrowed his eyes.
“I don’t understand then…My armor was perfectly working; nothing could explain
the sudden collapse.”
Talia had some suspicions as to what caused it and a name wrapped it all up:
Bruce.
“At least Stark is dead so your enemies are one less” Stane said relaxed.
Talia placed her hands on the desk and leaned towards him.
“No, my incompetent ‘friend’; Stark is very much alive.”
“Impossible! Without his arc reactor he couldn’t last…”
Talia snapped her fingers and the wall opened to reveal a huge TV screen that
with her order showed image from GCN’s coverage of Stark’s transport to the
free clinic. The playboy had his legs crossed on the stretcher and sent kisses
and winks to the female reporters who swarmed the place.
Stane paled and this time took his handkerchief to wipe the new wave of sweat
drops.
“And…kicking as you can see” she left her armchair and came with confident,
slow strides in front of him. “Which proves your stupidity to act without my
approval. You see your…’ingenious’ plan – better whim - just managed to reveal
yourself, ruin our asset of knowing the security for Wayne’s office and now
they know you don’t work alone.”
“That won’t lead to you…”
“Possibly but I can’t trust you anymore.”
Stane sniggered.
“You never did!”
She tilted her head to him.
“And I was right. From now on you’ll stay all the time in the warehouse on
guard waiting for my orders and instructions of how you’ll act.”
Stane stood towering her but only in height because her icy glare made him feel
at least a head shorter.
“You’re imprisoning me?”
She yanked her head and her glare became even more piercing sending shivers to
Obadiah’s spine.
“It’s better than killing you, right?”
Stane closed his eyes, bit his lips and nodded.
“What made my armor collapse?”
Talia didn’t answer but her eyes stilled at Bruce on screen who followed his
friend inside the clinic; Bane realizing tensed. Talia wondered what had
happened that night after Batman’s battle with Iron Monger and the discovery of
the massacre to lead to that unusual behavior: leaving the Manor in the
luxurious car and Stark following in agony. And could Bruce suspect their
plans?
“You could have ordered the execution of those mobsters later” Bane said to his
leader after their men took Stane away having blindfolded him.
Talia smirked.
“Are you questioning my decisions?” she inquired slyly.
Bane yanked his head and looked her in the eye.
“You know that I’m not.”
Talia nodded and grinned.
“I want to create panic in the soul of every criminal in Gotham before I sent
them to Hell. And what better from the massive killing of their leaders? Panic
and disorder is the first stage for the defeat of an enemy.”
Bane raised an eyebrow.
“And Wayne? He’ll suspect.”
Talia smirked.
“Of course. He is more than intelligent. But it’s exactly what I wished to
achieve: make him go to that meeting with Luthor in order to investigate his
possible connection with the League. I’m sure that Bruce will find that the
guns were Luthor’s.”
Bane snorted.
“The Police too; the weapons were legally registered and sold. Why not letting
the police interrogate Luthor?”
Talia brushed her desk and looked at Bane.
“Exactly because the weapons were registered and Luthor’s name came up too
easily. It’s too obvious and Bruce is clever; he knows that Luthor isn’t stupid
to use registered weapons in a crime. So Bruce would want to learn Luthor’s
possible connections and the real perpetrator. And the meeting with the enemy
is the best way.
Bane crossed his bulk arms and shook his head.
“Wayne is wicked: he won’t come without cover.”
Talia nodded.
“We’ll take care of his cover.”
“You know that Luthor can’t control and capture that man.”
She smiled and her eyes shone.
“But we can.”
 
Harvey was in his office from very early and now was afternoon. The massacre in
Gambol’s restaurant and then the attack at Wayne Tower leading to Tony Stark’s
almost fatal injury had his hands full. He had the testimonies of Bruce Wayne
and Tony Stark saying that the culprit was Obadiah Stane a middle ranked
businessman suspect for many shady activities but not proven guilty till now.
Unfortunately, his accomplishes took him away pretending the police officers
and now GCPD was searching the entire city and the outskirts for them. He
distributed a warrant and asked the contribution of the federal office for
finding and arresting that dangerous man and his partners.
Also, he gave a press conference informing the press and the citizens about the
latest developments trying to appease their fears.
He leaned on the back of his chair and inhaled deeply; everything seemed to go
so smooth after Joker’s arrest! This was frustrating and someone else might
have wanted to go to another city but he loved Gotham where he grew up and he
was stubborn and liked to fight till the end as his name shake ancient god:
Ares, the god of war. He smiled. However he wasn’t hawkish; he loved peace and
tranquility.
Speaking of which…He had something to comfort him. His dinner with Rachel and
his father. Finally, he would be able to be with the two most beloved people of
his life without hiding.
Robert knocked and entered holding a letter.
“For you, Harv.”
“You checked it for bombs?” he chuckled.
“Of course” his colleague threw it to him and he caught it.
“Thank you, Bob.”
“Don’t mention it.”
He looked at the mailer’s name and frowned, a bad feeling settling. Rachel
Dawes.
Dear Harvey,
I’m sorry I won’t be able to join the dinner with your father but I’m not the
kind of woman that likes such things. You see, I’m not the woman you
thought…actually, the woman I made you believe that I am. All this time I was
playing, I didn’t care about you or your feelings. I was just following orders
to approach you and seduce you. I did it because I found it funny. But now
things have changed: I don’t want to continue the game. I left Gotham.
Probably, you’ll hear again my name but I don’t want you to come near me again.
Continue your life finding a sweet girl to make your family. Frankly, I could
never imagine living the family life…
I’m sorry I didn’t say all this face to face but it’s not my style,
                                                                               
                         Rachel.
 
 
***** Chapter 58 *****
Bruce felt his body too light, too free, too elated and even deep in sleep he
was aware that it was due to the sedatives he took obediently this time so that
Tony could rest without worrying about him. Though it was totally awkward for
him to sleep at afternoon, his exhausted body showed its gratitude as soon as
he lay on the mattress.
He was floating on the night sky where billions of stars sparkled as if beaming
happily. And he could also see the half moon brighter than every other time he
had seen it scattering silver dust on the earth underneath. As Batman he had
gazed many times at the moon but not from that close.
And then he dived in earth’s deepest guts and he saw awed the waves of lava
slithering in their perpetual movement; small explosions of fire interrupting
the slow crawl of the boiling magma. It must have had thousands of degrees yet
he didn’t feel any discomfort or fear that he would melt. He knew he was safe.
And then he was travelling the caves and it felt so familiar – caves were his
home after all, his shelter, his temporary escape… Though these caves were
somewhat different than his caves, in greater depth where amazed he could see
minerals being born.
And then he was again amidst the stars and the moon seemed to smile to him,
winking cleverly. And he was exhilarated, enchanted though he knew that he
wasn’t flying on his own, grateful to the one who held him in his arms and
gifted him that; upon realizing that he felt the gentle touch of two strong and
careful arms.
He closed his eyes sucking the dark sky he so much loved, the aura of the stars
and the moon, the scent of midnight and the relaxation of knowing he was safe
in the arms someone who loved him. He didn’t have to be in constant vigilance
there: nobody could threaten him there. He let his head loll backwards to let
the night breeze caress his hair and face; it was amazing to float and fly even
in borrowed wings.
Two caring lips felt carefully, respectfully his neck ascending to his jaw line
and then his lips. Bruce let his face ease in a soft smile.
“Clark…” he whispered and opened slowly his eyes expecting to see the kind
clear blue eyes he had connected with strolls in the skies.
Yet he froze and his body tensed seeing two red-blood irises and the face of
the silver haired man he met at the bar; his demon. Bruce stirred and rose only
to be held tighter but always carefully.
“Not you!” he shouted. “Don’t touch me!” his eyes strayed on the terrifying
void till the ground but he still preferred to fall and die than having that
creature touch him.
Bagdana smiled.
“You remember…the volcanoes, the guts of the earth, the beauty of the night
sky: you love the night sky, Bruce. You’re suffocating if kept apart from the
sky…Your heart desires to fly but you must rely on borrowed wings to become one
with the night… your night…” his voice was suave and sensual in such tones that
made Bruce’s mind paralyze sending a current of abandon to his entire body. “I
can give you back your wings, my Lilith – the wings you denied choosing to live
among humans…”
The image of his favorite statue crossed his eyes: the Fallen Angel of Saint
Mary’s Park crying for her broken wings.
“Come back to me, Lilith…” the demon’s forehead touched gently Bruce’s and
Bruce felt tears from the despair that voice emanated.
Yet he couldn’t. He wasn’t what that demon thought. He was just a human and he
didn’t want to succumb to him. He had violated him brutally two times.
“I’m not your Lilith!” he screamed and jerked so abruptly that escaped the
demon, on the memory that before falling to his bed he hang the pouch with
Black Butterfly around his neck.
The demon couldn’t touch him, couldn’t stop his rapid fall, his endless fall.
Still Bruce could listen to Bagdana’s voice in his head.
His descend was then slowed as if he was submerging in thick liquid; only he
could see the stars around him.
And then he saw images among the stars. A beautiful woman with waist long raven
hair and midnight sapphire blue eyes was dragged by some men in primitive
clothes that strangely was similar to the ninja attire. One of them, their
leader, a tower of a man removed the scarf from his head and lowered his
ancient curled sword to the woman’s neck sending her beautiful head to bump on
the dust. He saw the man’s face and heard his triumphant cry; he was a lion-
like man with eagle eyes and a striking resemblance to Ra’s.
Bagdana’s scream of rage and unimaginable pain shook the entire sky and Bruce
felt the demon’s pain clawing his own heart.
“I lost you once; I won’t let that happen again even if I need to take you
forcibly with me…” the demon’s cracked voice filled his mind.
“I’m not her…”
And then he could see a leaf shaped mark on the pale shoulder of the dead woman
as Bagdana in his demon form took her in his arms and tread upon the corpses of
Lilith’s murderers.
Bruce’s eyes widened.
“I’m not her descendant!”
A frustrated growl was his answer.
And he was falling slowly again…and his parents were there between the stars;
his mother holding a baby in her arms and smiling to his father who hugged her.
The baby’s sapphire emerald eyes sparkled as he giggled seeing his parents
around him.
And then a loud bang broke the giggles and the stars all of a sudden deemed and
the sky became dirt, dark alley illuminated by the headlights of a car. And his
mother who had covered him with her body collapsed on the cement, a trail of
blood already staining the ground; his father rushed to her and a second
deafening bang made his body jerk violently only to fall and hug Martha’s dead
body. Thomas’ eyes darted somewhere and were filled with affection, pain and
determination.
“Run, Bruce!”
“No!” Bruce cried and his fall became rapid as the leaking of his eyes.
But now the sky had become a new alley, a very familiar one with a large
garbage bin which hid Selina. He heard the familiar meow and his heart
convulsed in agony again. He saw with dread Chill in slow motion grabbing his
kitten from the nape of its neck and lifting it.
“He’s yars! Yar not allowed to have a pet” he sniggered “yar the pet!”
“No!” he yelled again seeing the giant sending the small kitten to crush on the
opposite wall its small body slumped on the filthy cement with his one half
blind eye open but glassy without the familiar sparkle of love when Bruce pet
him. Hero’s little tongue hung from his mouth. “No…”
His fall became slow now as his heart’s beat and the moon glimmered once again
but it couldn’t make him turn his gaze there. Instead two cruel sniggering grey
eyes came to occupy his eyes.
“Your petty friend will suffer and die because of you!” Ra’s’ sarcastic voice
vibrated from satisfaction.
“Please, master, no…”
But Tony was there in front of him tied in a chair bruised and in pain, a
horrible bleeding wound on his chest. His friend whom he had more than 10 years
to see was ashen, rasping, his head dropped on his chest. His heart clenched in
his chest.
“Tony, no…”
A sound of bullet piercing the night sky made him shudder and cringe: not
again… And then the bullet sank in a body clad in red and blue and Bruce’s
gloves drenched in the man’s blood.
“Can I see your eyes for a last time?”
Clark’s pale face was in front of him, his crystal blue eyes filled with love
but Bruce could see a green glowing rock with black veins – veins that was made
of his own blood to kill a man who loved him madly due to chemicals. A man who
was to die…
“Because of you…” Bagdana whispered his hot breath in his ear. “Because he
craved for you and you’re not for him…”
“No…” Bruce retorted and clenched his trembling fists to push himself away from
the voice.
And then he saw his car dashing away from the Manor grounds and a black Ironman
following him to the Tower; he watched Stane firing his magnetic rays at Tony’s
chest snatching violently the arc reactor and Bruce could feel the same
excruciating pain his friend felt.
And then he was at his friend’s side, holding him as Tony was slumped on the
couch, a horrible void where his arc reactor used to be. His friend’s head
lolled devoid of life backwards and his eyes closed.
“Tony!” he cried again, his heart beating hard; each beat a new crack. “Please,
no…” his voice became huskier till he couldn’t make another sound.
“So much pain, so much death around you because you’re not destined to be with
humans; you know that choosing to be among humans dooms them…”
Bruce saw rocks and lava falling on people screaming from terror and agony.
“Your human family and friends suffer because of you…Your human parents died
because of you…The kitten who filled your heart with happiness died for your
sake…Tony was crippled because of you…Superman almost died…Tony almost died.
You can use whatever you have in your possession to evade me, to repell me but
your friends can’t repel me…” his voice was filled with threat. “If you’re
willing to choose again humans over me I’ll kill every one of them till you
realize that living with humans brings you only pain!”
“I’m not your mate!” he yelled desperate.
“I won’t lose you again because of them: I’ll slay them before they bring death
to you…”
Bruce jolted upright on his mattress, drenched in sweat and rasping unable to
ease his crazy heartbeat that made his whole rib case ache. His hand moved
unconsciously to the pouch hanging on his chest. The images from his dream
lingered over his eyes; so much death, so much suffering of innocent
beings...because of him. He rubbed his aching forehead; maybe the concussion
opened a channel to his mind for the demon; maybe the cocktail of psychotropic
drugs Joker gave him lowered his resistance.
He bit his lip. His chest felt heavy and his guts twisted. He sighed: Leslie’s
and Alfred’s panacea of sedatives proved useless… He shook his head. In his
mind still echoed the threat.
“You can repel me but your friends can’t; I won’t lose you again because of
them: I’ll slay them before they bring death to you…”
A thunder shook the grounds and vibrated the walls making Bruce’s heart kick:
it sounded so much like a gun shot. He slammed his palms over his ears and
after some seconds he removed them reprimanding himself for acting like a kid.
He took in the room; Alfred had lowered the drapes to help him sleep so the
room was half dark though it was still afternoon. Of course from the bangs of
thunders he was sure that outside was cloudy.
The thought of the grounds made his entire existence cry to be out of this
confinement. He stood up from his bed and stormed to the enormous window that
was repaired from Superman’s attack. He opened the curtains and savored the
sight of the grounds under heavy grey clouds that was hanging above the dark
green grounds ready to leak.
He pressed the button and the window opened soundlessly bringing a pleasantly
cold breeze to brush his face; he closed his eyes and enjoyed the smell of the
imminent rain. His heart beat fast and demandingly but he didn’t care to try
control it with meditation; his body urged him to go outside and he didn’t want
to deny.
He knew that if he opened the door, Alfred would instantly be alerted; on the
other hand even if he left from the window, at some point he’d come to the
bedroom to check him and if he didn’t find him, new upset would come up. So he
scribbled down a hasty message about having to go to the Tower and then
patrolling; he left the paper on the nightstand.  Then he jumped out of the
window pressing the button to close behind him.
He landed silently on his bare feet and ran away before anyone from the house
see him. He wanted to escape, to be free from those walls; he wanted to breathe
the rain’s smell as it drenched the Manor’s grounds.
He wanted to take away from his loved ones those burning blood red eyes that
were pinned on him.
Lightnings cracked the horizon and Bruce watched mesmerized but then the
deafening sounds of the thunders were like repeated gun shots and blows to his
head. He dragged his feet without seeing where he was going just letting the
scent lead; the eyes always following him. He clenched his fists - damn that
demon! Why he had to have this too?
As the first rain drops fell on his face he realized that he had lost his
control; self control and discipline were what kept him alive and helped him
survive and defeat his enemies. And he had to find his self control if he
wanted to stop the plot against him and Gotham and to save his sanity.
But when he re-focused on his surroundings his mind froze and his body
paralyzed.
 
Harvey stood before the door to Rachel’s apartment. After he read her letter
his mind raced restless; it can’t be. How could she play with him in such way
and why? And why she admitted it now? What she had to gain from that except
than ‘having fun’? How could he be so wrong?
The letter created countless questions and boiling emotions. He had to find
Rachel and speak with her, to clear things. To hear it from her; to understand
what went wrong or how and why this started.
He had the urge to go immediately at her apartment though she said that had
left; maybe she hadn’t left already. But he couldn’t abandon all these urgent
cases running; his position was one of great responsibility and many people
relied on him. So he waited till late afternoon to take his car and drive
there.
He rang the bell and waited with his head slightly bent and his hands clenching
his hips.
“Com’ on, Rachel… Be here…”
He pressed the bell again and again and as his frustration and anguish mounted
he began hitting the door with his fists.
“What do you want, sir?”
Harvey startled turned to see a young lady who just walked out of the lift to
her apartment.
“I was looking for Miss Dawes.”
She nodded.
“The young lady with the short brown-red hair, huh?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, she left yesterday according to the janitor; he told me that she put the
apartment on sale” she turned to leave but Harvey ran to her and touched her
arm.
“He told you if he knew where she was going?”
She shook her head.
“She wasn’t the most talkative person in the world...Of course I understand
her: new to a strange city like Gotham. With no friends…”
Harvey pressed his lips in a tight line; Rachel had friends here - him.
“Except than you” the girl said. “I think I saw you a couple of times…”
He nodded absent minded and mumbled a ‘thank you’ before turning to leave. When
the doors of the lift closed he brought his palms on his face and pressed
yanking his head upwards. He groaned. He had so many pressing matters demanding
his attention and the only thing he wanted to do was search all over the
country for Rachel. And his father was so thrilled with the prospect of meeting
his son’s “girlfriend”...Only that Rachel was never his “girlfriend”; she was
just playing, pretending, even when they made love…
How was that possible? Why so many lies? He was almost asking aloud and held
himself before the people in the pavement hear him.
 
 
Joker paced inside the confines of his blue neon cell with his hands behind his
back, whistling. He began to feel bored and itched to get out.
“I need to make a caaaaall...I’m a ci-ti-zeeeeen; I haaave riiights!” he
shouted for the tenth time.
Only this time he heard steps approaching from the corridor that he was sure it
didn’t have any occupied cells. He saw Jim Gordon with his trade sullen-solemn
expression walking slowly to stand right before him with the iron and blue bars
between them.
Joker’s eyes filled with glee and he clapped his hands making a deep bow.
“Whaaaat a hoonour to my humble self! Jimmy himself!”
Gordon stared at him coldly.
“What do you want?” he snapped.
Joker rubbed his chin.
“Weeeeell...Since you ask sooooo kindly...How’s my spouse? You know Brucey
Joker Wayne? By the way, I want my conjugal visits.”
Jim raised an eyebrow; it was outrageous that Joker had the nerve to ask
something like that when he kidnapped, injured and drugged Bruce; especially,
when the said youth had already a nightmarish past. However Jim kept his
composure.
“You’ll see your appointed attorney tomorrow; we’ll shut the surveillance
during your meeting but you’ll be limited inside an energy field that won’t
permit any funny businness.”
Joker rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Wow! Fan – tastic! Sciiiii – FI!” he sobered rapidly. “But I want my conjugal
visits. You rudely destroyed the first night of my married life with Bru-cey.”
Jim regarded him nonchalant.
“You’re not married.”
Now Joker’s eyes glimmered wickedly.
“I am; we had a judge and witnesses and everything was done legitimate.”
“Not when twenty rifles were threatening everyone” he snapped and turned to
leave.
Joker jerked.
“Wait! I want” he licked his lips “my phone call – I have that right, huh
Jimmy?” he tilted his head and watched Jim turning towards him. “Weeeeell?” he
asked predatory and innocently.
Jim stared at him for a moment.
“Fine” he answered and left relieved for not having to see Joker anymore.
Joker smirked evilly watching Gordon walking away from the cell. He jumped on
his bed and lied down resting his head on his folded arms. Who was to call? His
Rachel or Shift? He decided against calling Rachel: she was under suspicion and
he couldn’t trust her right now. He’d settle matters after he got out.
For now he’ll pass the code for his emergency measures to his minion using of
course the number of the agreed phone booth so though they certainly would be
monitoring his call, they wouldn’t take in anything.
 
 
He had a vague awareness of the pair of eyes watching, it wasn’t the pair of
red-blood irises that made his spine shiver. His stalker was hidden behind the
nearby trees and watched him. He was here too long and didn’t seem to get
bored. Yet Bruce didn’t care nor wanted to stood up or do anything; he hoped
that finally he would be fed up and leave.
Bruce didn’t count how much time he was there. He stayed kneeled under the
heavy downpour staring at the gravestones in front of him: his legs had brought
him here and suddenly he felt so drained physically and emotionally that
slumped on his knees. And then the rain tried to wash away his thoughts and
that tormenting hole in his chest - without any success. The gravestones were
his entire world; his parents’ names haunting him; he wanted to bring them in
his mind alive and laughing but it was impossible. The only thing he could re-
watch was the night in the alley…
Feeling again exactly as little Bruce had felt: the shock, the pain, the dread,
the horror, the helplessness, the surrender. He felt the rain hitting his face
or was teardrops? He brushed the gravestone with his father’s name and then his
mother’s with his eyes widening in despair and his heart beating faster than
ever. They died because of him; weren’t for him they would have been alive and
happy offering to the people. He pressed his forehead to the cool stone and
closed his eyes.
“You’re a bitch...a fucking hooker!”
“You’re a dick, a...a...prick…”
“Damn you! I piss on your graves!”
His scared, desperate voice of his ten years echoed over the sound of the
raging rain and the thunders, along with the horrible sound of that machine
that penetrated him sending electric currents to fry his insights. And then he
saw the framed picture of his parents beaming at his baby self; his poor spit
slid between them.
He pressed more his forehead seeking to ease the pain and the images, the gun
shots that mingled with the thunders and the raindrops. His head ached but the
burning iron wheel where his heart used to be hurt worse making his breath
asthmatic. He didn’t want to cry and the rain washing his face offered him the
comfort of believing it was just that: raindrops and not tears.
“It’s two hours you’re here…” a soft voice said and Bruce knew who he was.
“Go away!” he snapped without turning to acknowledge him; he didn’t want him to
see his face covered with raindrops in case his stalker thought he was crying.
But his stubborn stalker walked closer instead of leaving and Bruce felt a wave
of anger.
“You’re soaked; you must go inside and change or you’ll get pneumonia.”
Bruce closed his eyes and yanked his head: why he didn’t leave him alone?
“Please, Bruce…”
“You’re soaked too…” he answered coldly. “Leave me alone…”
His stalker tilted his head.
“You know I don’t get ill…but you…”
Bruce groaned and rested his forehead on the gravestone hoping that Clark would
take the message of dismissal.
And Clark realized and knew he was a rude intruder all this time but he
wouldn’t leave and let Bruce there in agonizing pain and under the heavy rain.
The human was already two hours under the merciless whipping of rain and was
drenched; he couldn’t stay there more not only because he would get seriously
ill but also because he had stayed all this time kneeled in front of the graves
without a move and this scared Clark for the youth’s sanity. Not to mention
that the man who attacked him and Stark was free and could attack again: Bruce
couldn’t defence himself revealing his secret and in his current state Clark
feared that he couldn’t, even if he wanted. He wouldn’t leave him exposed like
this.
Watching Bruce in pain slashed his guts and burned him inside, like a
Kryptonite knife; he wanted to help him, to ease a bit his pain – too ambitious
- but if he managed to make mad the younger man it’d be a success pulling him
out from that endless pain.
He walked decisively closer but not too close because his attack on Bruce still
tormented him and he didn’t want to make Bruce feel uncomfortable.
Bruce fisted his hands hearing Clark’s footsteps approaching and gritted his
teeth. That stupid alien won’t leave him alone!
“I said: leave me alone! What exactly you don’t understand?”
Clark pushed his glasses on his nose though the raindrops made the glasses an
obstacle to his sighting instead of a helper. Thankfully, he didn’t truly need
glasses.
“I’m sorry, Bruce…” he said quietly but determined. “I can’t do that; I can’t
abandon you like this.”
Now Bruce fumed; he turned his head to Clark and his eyes sparkled from anger
between the streaks of rain water that glued his locks over his forehead and
cheeks.
“Abandon?” he chuckled. “Who do you think you are? My bodyguard? My guardian
angel?” he snorted. “You’re neither: just a pain in the ass – go! I don’t want
your friendship or your alliance!”
Bruce’s jaw was clenched in determination and his eyes were flared up and Clark
was sure that he meant what he said but still he was kneeled before the three
graves and he could discern tears between the rain water.
Bruce stared the odd dressed reporter pressing his lips in rage and then
averted his head to the graves breathing calmly.
Clark wanted to cry; Bruce didn’t stand up even to kick him away. He could only
imagine the amount of suffering that could cause that to a dynamic man like
him. He placed his hand gently on the younger man’s shoulder.
“It’s alright, Bruce…” it was stupid, he realized as soon as he uttered it.
Clark sensed the strong body shook under his hand and then suddenly Bruce was
standing facing him with his fists clenched on his sides and his eyes narrowed
to slits.
“Why don’t you fly away and heal your addiction, you stupid fucking alien?! Are
you so shithead to not grasp what I told you so many times?! To Hell with it!”
Clark cursed himself for the words he used; of course nothing was alright and
he sounded like an asshole. But at least it made Bruce stood up. He held the
younger man’s upper arms gentle but firmly and Bruce frowned but didn’t jerk.
The rain was still falling like a waterfall on both of them and Clark could
feel Bruce’s low temperature. He didn’t scan him – though he wanted to – still
his feel was advanced.
“I’m sorry, Bruce” he said quietly and Bruce’s eyes flickered causing goose
bumbs to Clark. “I know it was stupid of me saying it’s alright but you must
get inside – you can’t stay more here” he licked his lips. “You’ll be seriously
ill and nobody wants that; you suffered too much, you don’t deserve to…”
But now Bruce jerked violently and Clark surprised lost his upper arms from his
grip.
“What do you know about what I deserve?” he asked rattling his teeth, his eyes
stabbing Clark’s.
“I…” he shook his head.
“You don’t know anything!” Bruce spat and turned his back to him.
Clark bit his lip and restrained his hands from touching again Bruce’s
shoulders.
“I lost my parents too” he answered almost whispering. “My biological parents
and my human father.”
He expected from Bruce to snap at him but he kept his back on Clark and lowered
his head towards the tombstones.
“You saw them shot down in front of you?” he asked in a low, completely poised
voice that worried Clark more than if he had faced an angry rant.
“No…” he gulped.
Bruce just nodded.
“Did they die because of you?”
Clark opened his mouth to answer but saying the truth, a mere ‘no’, was what
Bruce already knew and hoped to hear.
“They didn’t die because of you; they died because of Falcone’s greed and
cruelty.”
Clark saw Bruce completely still just turning his head slightly towards the
smallest of the three graves that bore his own name; Clark shuddered - he hated
that grave.
“Did you ever curse them after their deaths to save your hide?” Bruce uttered
completely emotionless like a judge stating the accusations against a hideous
criminal. “Did you spit in their face?”
Clark rubbed his forehead; he knew to what Bruce referred. He remembered each
word of Bruce’s short description of his torture in the hands of Falcone and
Chill. Bruce’s flat emotionless voice of that night in Stark’s estate replayed
in his ears, having the same detached and simultaneously guilty tone as now.
Bruce nodded.
“You didn’t. I figured as much…So you can’t understand…” he was staring at his
grave and Clark knew he was deep in his thoughts.
And then the Man of Steel just snapped; he knew it was wrong, that he should be
more restrained, that he had no right but he couldn’t keep witnessing Bruce
accusing and condemning himself for things that weren’t his fault. He grabbed
the younger man’s upper arms careful to not hurt him and turned him to be face
to face. Bruce seemed startled but immediately frowned taking a hostile stance.
“It wasn’t your fault, Bruce! Nothing of all these was your fault! Stop
accusing yourself for things others did! You were just a child, Bruce! A lone,
defenseless child… For God’s sake, Star…” his voice cracked and the name he
chose for Bruce just slipped.
Bruce’s eyes gave an angry glow and his face took the ire and determination of
Batman; the scowl that emanated even under the cowl. Clark admired how this
angry shade made Bruce more attractive.
“If I had provoked Chill enough he’d have killed me and my parents wouldn’t
have given their fortune to Falcone neither they’d have gone to his trap in the
alley. They’d have been still alive!”
Bruce saw the honest concern in Clark’s eyes but he was tired of people
concerned about him. He only wanted to be left alone, if possible to disappear
and nobody look for him.
“And do you think that your parents would have been okay with this? They
wouldn’t have blamed themselves? They wouldn’t have been in deep pain and
depression?”
Bruce stilled his wild eyes on Clark’s.
“They’d have been sad, they’d have mourned but eventually they’d have continued
their lives. They were strong – both of them! They’d have made another
child...not a cursed one…”
Clark pressed his lips and unconsciously tightened his grip on Bruce’s upper
arms watching some new tears flowing from his Star’s enraged eyes.
“Yeah, sure, because that’s how Stark reacted after you died” he felt Bruce
tensing and his eyes flickered. “His life before he learnt you were alive seems
to you like he continued his life? He was limbing his entire life in self
destructive behaviors, deep in indifference, alcoholism and corruption! You
honestly believe that your parents would have handled it better?! You dying
might have detered their deaths yet for the rest of their lives they’d have
been different people, nothing like what you knew.”
Bruce averted his face from Clark’s because the rain washing his ugly glasses
couldn’t hide his kind, beautiful eyes and Bruce just couldn’t bear more good
people around him; threatened because they cared about him.
“Tony almost died a few hours ago because of me…”
Clark jerked his head in frustration and cupped Bruce’s face forcing him to
look his eyes again.
“Tony was injured because Stane has a grudge on him and wants to take Stark
Industries but I’m sure you saved your friend!” a thunder at the end of his
sentence stressed his words.
Bruce closed his eyes and shook his head with enough force to evade Clark’s
hands.
“It’s my fault that Tony’s life depends on that damn reactor!” he snapped.
Clark shook his head in denial and huffed; maybe Bruce was in confusion.
“No, no; it was those terrorists in Afghanistan.”
Bruce brushed the stray locks that the rain had plastered on his forehead and
inhaled deeply.
“It was the League of Shadows” Clark’s jaw dropped. “I had attempted to run
away from Gotham but Ra’s caught me and thought that punishing only me wasn’t
enough so his men captured Tony and tortured him forcing me to watch from a TV
screen. He was going to order Tony’s death but Tony managed to escape in time.”
Clark ran his hands through his drenched hair; it was the first time he or
anyone else except maybe Stark heard the truth about that. His hatred for Ra’s
Al Ghul exploded; the bastard not only took advantage of a poor boy abusing him
for his pleasure, not only he punished Bruce – cruelly, he was sure - for
trying to save himself but also forced him to watch his best friend being
tortured and killed to make him blame himself and never attempt to resist his
master again to keep his other loved ones safe.
Bruce scowled at Clark watching his face break in sympathy. The allien wouldn’t
understand, didn’t want to understand. He clenched his teeth and jerked to
escape Clark’s hands who had returned to hold his shoulders; he had had enough,
he didn’t want to waste his time with stupid people who cared for him, too
stubborn to understand that they were in danger because of him. He wanted Clark
away from him.
But Clark wouldn’t let him escape.
“You almost died because of me!” Bruce hissed at him his eyes illuminated like
the sky from the thunders and Clark’s hands loosened giving him the opportunity
to yank himself away from him; his eyes finding his name on the small grave.
But Clark couldn’t take it any longer; Bruce didn’t deserve to suffer because
evil people used him. Bruce couldn’t hold himself responsible for all the wrong
others did in his name. It was unfair; it was injustice that Bruce still hurt
so much. He took in Bruce’s almost nostalgic stare at his grave. And then he
broke.
He clenched his jaw, gritted his teeth and in a whim grabbed Bruce’s arms with
the fleeting thought that it surely would bruise and brought the younger man’s
cold body to his. Bruce’s eyes exploded and his eyebrows arched in rage and
challenge.
“And you think that your death would have made things better for everyone! This
is why you still keep this horrible grave?! To remind you of your supposed
blame and how ‘good’ things could have been if you had died?!” he was shouting
to be heard over the downpour and the thunders but also because his despair
couldn’t be restrained any longer.
Bruce’s eyes froze and his body went limp; many different shouts that he
couldn’t discern their meaning attacked his mind. Clark’s fingers dug his skin.
Clark’s hopelessness peaked seeing Bruce’s eyes; he could see those beautiful
eyes many years ago with their still unspoiled innocence, tear-stained; he
could hear little Bruce’s weak crying while they tortured him or when alone in
his cage. How could they ignore this being’s crying? How could they torture a
small kid like that?
“You’re alive, damn it! A-li-ve! Not a breathing dead waiting to return to his
grave!” he was shaking Bruce and yelling; he closed his eyes and lowered his
voice. “No living man should have a grave…”
Suddenly this small grave was responsible for everything. This grave was
holding Bruce’s soul captive making him always come back, always making endless
circles till his nostalgia won and he finis...No! Bruce had the entire life in
front of him and that damn grave haunted him not letting him free.
Bruce saw Clark’s thoughts in his angry eyes and his own eyes widened watching
the powerful alien’s irises becoming red smashing his glasses. It dawned
immediately to him; he began thrashing in Clark’s grip but Clark put his arm on
Bruce’s chest and pinned him on his body turning his laser vision to the
tombstone bearing his Star’s name: nobody would doom his Star’s life, not a
piece of grey stone!
A hot wave of ire and a cold nubbing feeling of dread filled Bruce as the red
rays hit the small grave. He convulsed inside Superman’s inescapable hold; his
teeth gritted more from anger and despair than from the shivering cold that
pierced his bones. The stone wouldn’t last much.
“No! Stop! You’ve no right! Stop!”
Bruce’s violent jerking caused Superman to lose his concentration; he tightened
his grip on the human’s chest careful to not break bones. But Bruce seeing
Superman’s laser flickering away from the stone thrashed even more kicking and
trying to hit Clark with the back of his head.
Clark had to keep his head constantly at a distance not from fear of being hurt
himself but for Bruce who recently had suffered a head injury and the impact
with his unbreakable head would surely cause him a new worse injury. He just
tightened more his grip feeling shivers from the constant touch with Bruce’s
deliciously untamed body.
“Calm down, Bruce! You’ll get hurt! This abomination must be demolished.”
“This isn’t for you to decide!” Bruce yelled with clenched teeth and attempted
again to smash his head to Clark’s but he evaded him and targeted the annoying
stone; the laser finding its target this time. “Stop, you fucking alien! Stop!”
Clark could hear the frantic human heartbeat and the real pain in Bruce’s angry
voice but didn’t stop till the stone began cracking emanating smoke.
“No!” Bruce yelled. “Let go, you scum! Fuck you! Go away! I don’t want you as a
friend or an ally!” Bruce wanted to hurt the damn alien, to make him feel the
pain he was causing to him yet his dread and the shivering thwarted him from
concentrating and the damn alien had regained his powers.
The tombstone exploded and Clark covered Bruce’s head to not be hit by the
shreds. But the stubborn human kept resisting grinding his teeth.
“It’s over, Bruce; you’re free now.”
Bruce growled and flailed like a trapped snake.
“You gave me back my powers, Bruce” he said apologetically. “There’s no point
in fighting; you might get hurt. I’ll just get you to the Manor.”
But at that point he felt something like water slipping from his embrace and
realized that Bruce was gone using his ninja training. He looked shocked
around: night had slowly crept and along with the black clouds and the damn
downpour even his super vision couldn’t find Bruce. No doubt he used his
training to become untraceable.
Clark threw his ruined glasses and rubbed his palms to his face groaning. His
stare darted to the pile of rocks that were the leftovers of the grave. The
letters were burried under the other pieces but Clark could discern each of
them. He clutched his drenched locks. Maybe he had taken it too far; maybe he
indeed had no right...Maybe he blew the hit that broke the pieces of Bruce’s
cracked soul.
He sighed. If anything happened to Bruce because of him he’d never forgive
himself...He had to find him before what his actions caused resulted in more
damage.
Bruce ran in the greatest speed his training permitted him keeping his vitals
to the minimum to evade the alien’s scan. His teeth were clenched to the point
of pain and so were his fists. That bastard had destroyed his grave…he took him
away from his parents…He separated him from them.
The rain was literally whipping him and he kept his eyes shut, his eyelids
pressed with all his might on them. The rain was nice because it washed him: it
couldn’t clean him but at least could wash away the hot liquid spurting from
his eyes. He thought that he had lost the ability to cry so maybe he wasn’t
crying after all…
Finally, he stopped; Superman hadn’t followed him which was pleasant. He opened
his eyes to regard his surroundings: the night was new but the cloudy weather
made everything darker and the waterfalls blurred things together worsening his
tired vision. He was surrounded by trees in dense rows; tall trees.
The wind was howling and he felt the cold piercing his bones. But then the
wind’s blow got clearer and Bruce frowned: a car was approaching and he could
hear the familiar whistling of his driver. He should take cover but his feet
stayed rooted.
The Vulture halted abruptly the car; not that Bruce didn’t expect it from the
moment Chill turned the car towards the Palisades’ forest. Falcone had sent
Chill to take him to the Press Conference and he had hoped that he could escape
Chill’s use; he bore the marks of Falcone’s last night’s spanking so he dreaded
even more a new usage. Yet it was futile.
Chill hurried outside and opened his door, dragging him violently and pulling
the expensive coat Bruce was wearing off him.
“Uh! My littl’ Prince, how long’d for that all night! Yar ripped ass turned me
on so much an’ that stupid hooke’ was a let down. An’ yar delicious…” his eyes
roamed hungrily his body and he mouthed Bruce’s lips in his stinking mouth
thrusting his tongue violently to rampage.
Bruce tried to feebly resist; he couldn’t stop Chill with force to not reveal
himself so he just pulled away only to be crashed on the car’s side and pinned
by the giant’s muscular body. Chill’s eyes shone with anger and the scar over
the right jerked with malice.
He cupped Bruce’s jaw in his hands and yanked it backwards softly to not bruise
which would cause Falcone’s suspicions.
“Ar’ya tryin’ to deny me?” he inquired half amused and half enraged. “Ya really
fancy new pricks, huh, prince slut?” he pressed more his body on Bruce and he
felt with dread the man’s already hard length.
Bruce swallowed and shook his head.
“No, sir; but master Falcone waits…”
“So, let’s no make him wait long’r…”
Bruce’s eyes bulged and his heart raced as the Vulture unfastened Bruce’s belt,
unzipped the pants and removed both pants and underwear putting them on Bruce’s
seat. The icy cold attacked Bruce’s stark naked half body and he felt the urge
to cover with his hand his privates but he knew it was stupid. He couldn’t stop
what was going to happen as he didn’t stop last night’s torture and rape…He
couldn’t reveal himself.
Chill manhandled him and pushed him face first to a tree trunk, he grabbed his
wrists and made him hold a branch above his head stretching his body; the
Vulture groaned pawing the muscles of his arms to his ribs and then his
tortured buttocks which cried and Bruce whimpered because that was what the
thug wanted.
He was trembling and it wasn’t just from the cold or just from pretense; his
body couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t take it anymore. He felt his anal
channel clenching on his own protesting, not bearing to continue taking in
these men. For that he was experiencing so much pain the last months; it was
exactly as during his first uses when he was just a kid.
Chill gropped his thighs and stretched him, the Vulture’s free erection already
poking his entrance. Bruce closed his eyes, clentched his teeth and his grab on
the branch but still the violent thrust that shoved Chill’s length deep inside
him at once made him cry causing the cruel snigger of the thug. After so many
years he should have been prepared to be used dry yet his learning skills just
refused to help him there.
“Aaaaaa! Ther’s no place like hom’, babe!”
Bruce was pinned more to the trunk as Chill’s thrusts steadily went faster,
harder and deeper punishing his stubborn narrow channel. He hurt, damn it! As
the time went by he was hurting more instead of get used to it; they must have
injured him and the injury worsened with the years.
He whined and sobbed and grunted as Chill lifted Bruce’s legs and wrapped them
around the tree to get a better ankle. The giant’s pace was getting frantic:
moving his length out and impaling him again to the halt, his balls whipping
his just stitched buttocks that convulsed trying vainly to escape.
Bruce’s body shook uncontrollably from the force that crashed him to the tree;
his genitals grazed from the wood; he yelled when Chill’s length hit something
that pained even more and the Vulture grabbed his fine combed hair to turn his
face violently to him.
“That ol’ fool is a helluva pimp; he dresses ya for fuck!”
Bruce closed his eyes and Chill licked his cold cheeks and then captured his
mouth as if he wanted to swallow him, massaging brutally his lips and thrusting
his tongue in Bruce’s throat exactly as his length drilled his anus. How he
wished to be free to break all of that monster’s bones! But he couldn’t,
because his temporary satisfaction would lead to his loved ones’ demise and his
total enslavement to Ra’s Al Ghul.
Chill’s grip on Bruce’s locks tightened uprooting his hair and his triumphant
cry echoed through the dense trees as hot liquid irritated more Bruce’s burned
from friction inside. He rested his head on the trunk trying to breathe evenly
after the stampede of the last punishing thrusts but the penis still inside him
and the liquid that slowly drip from his anus made his stomach sick.
Chill pulled out his length and fisting Bruce’s hair slapped the youth’s
buttocks to unwrap his legs from the tree and made him kneel on the snow. He
came in front of Bruce jerking his head upwards.
“Clean me, boy!”
Bruce opened his mouth without objection as he had learnt all these years and
began licking his tormentor’s length, forced to see Chill’s gleeful eyes as the
giant kept his head painfully stretched.
Chill laughed sensing Bruce’s shudder as the giant’s enormous length hardened
inside his mouth.
“Don’t play the virgin with me, Prince! Don’t blame me for yar made for
blowjobs mouth!”
He began thrusting in Bruce’s mouth whose head was kept immobile by Chill’s
grip and the Vulture moaned and grunted as his length went deeper in the
youth’s mouth blocking his breath and sending saliva to slither from his
stretched mouth. Chill caressed tenderly Bruce’s cheek only to thrust harder
making him gag which worsened from the imminent explosion of hot, bitter
liquid.
He tried to cough but Chill removed his length and while keeping his hold on
Bruce’s hair pressed his mouth closed to swallow everything.
When sure that Bruce downed the whole thing he left him cough.
“It’s like fuckin’ the Batman!” he jeered.
 
Bagdana was watching for hours the human. He watched Bruce kneeled in front of
his parents’ graves; he wanted to surge to the man and take him there but
something was thwarting him: the intelligent human had found a way to enable
him fight his power. And the worst was that Bruce had the mind power to use
that protective energy to keep Bagdana at a distance. The boy was getting
stronger in their battles and that fascinated him but also made him dogded to
subdue his resistance to take back what was his.
And there was only one way to that: breaking Bruce’s mind, bending his defense
lines by invading his thoughts and hit him where he hurt most – his loved ones.
When he was in despair or emotional turmoil, Bagdana could feel the barriers
falling a bit and thus could make his move. He had sensed it in the Wayne
graveyard but just when he was ready to approach his stubborn mate someone
came. Someone whose emotional energy served as an obstacle to get to Bruce.
Someone who loved Bruce and his love added to that mysterious protection could
counterbalance the void created by Bruce’s lack of concentration.
Bagdana was angry but he was aware that as he remained close to Bruce his power
would continue to grow and finally the presence of the human’s loved ones
wouldn’t thwart him.
He watched from afar the encounter of this man with his mate and jealousy
boiled inside him: it was the story repeated. His Lilith again with someone
else. Only this time Bruce ran away from the alien – the tall, broad man wasn’t
human, was an alien, the one called Superman.
He followed as a spirit Bruce’s desperate running from afar because his mate’s
conscious effort to hide his trails from the alien was raising a barrier to him
too.
And then the boy stopped running in a dense, dark forest and Bagdana could
sense that the emotional torture started again forcing Bruce to lose himself in
a fake world that for him was horribly real.
Bagdana took his real form, that of the granite giant and watched eagerly with
his eyes spitting flames as Bruce slumped on his knees. Finally, he could grab
his obstinate mate!
He surged to the spot where Bruce was kneeled clenching his head.
 
Clark clad in Superman’s attire flew in full speed looking frantically for
Bruce. He was using his X-ray vision and his super hearing was tuned only in
this area blocking any other stimulus. He had to find Bruce as soon as
possible; something inside was urging him to hurry as if a threat was ready to
attack his Star.
Finally, Bruce stopped hiding his vitals…Oh…Bruce’s vitals went crazy. But at
least he could locate him. Right there…Oh, Rao… On his knees, clutching his
head…Breathing hard, sobbing…
He clenched his jaw and stormed there in the fullest of his speed and fell on
his knees wrapping Bruce’s trembling body feeling something hot and cold at the
same time – something powerful - hitting him and bouncing away causing his
spine to shudder.
Superman frowned because he hadn’t ever felt something like that and intrigued
him but now his priority was Bruce.
Bagdana was met with a wall of flesh, blood and…love which made him bounce off
Bruce. It was that damn alien! He howled his frustration and anger that caused
the wind go frantic mixing and covering his voice. Yet he couldn’t do anything
for the time being except than stay away causing the magma to explode in some
god forsaken volcanoe. Till his power over Bruce became stronger…
 
Bruce was trembling in Clark’s arms, his hands still clenching his head.
Superman was sure that he didn’t realize his presence. His Star’s face was
ashen, his beautiful eyes widened, were watching still something awful and his
lips were slightly opened and shaking urging Superman to kiss them gently into
waking him from the nightmare.
“I’ve got you, Star…You’re safe now…” he whispered with a hoarse voice.
But Bruce was in an alley holding a battered, withering white rose which placed
gently on the pavement to the spot where two bodies were sketched with rough
lines. And then he couldn’t see the rose only the dirty wall of the Opera house
where his face was squeezed; he was hearing only Chill’s growls and his own
quite sobs and beggings as something hard was crammed in him tearing his
insides and crashing him to the bricks with every push.
Superman understood and his heart bled; he took gently Bruce’s hands from his
head and caressed his soaked locks that dripped water since that damn rain
didn’t cease in the slightest.
“It’s not real, Bruce…” he whispered. “It’s only a flashback, a memory…they
can’t harm you anymore” at least physically  “please, Star, listen to me…I’m
here, I won’t let them hurt you…”
“It hurts so much…”
“Where, Bruce?” Superman bit his lower lip.
“My head…My pelvis…It’s my fault…”
“No, it isn’t!”
But Bruce shook his head in denial and shut his eyes.
“I’m here to help you; you’re not alone, Star…”
Bruce sensed the arm holding him tight and the hand in his hair; he convulsed
trying to escape but Superman cupped his face and brought his eyes in front of
him.
“Look at me, Bruce; it’s me…”
Bruce batted his eyelids heavy from the water and a flicker of recognition
glimmed in his orbs.
“C…Clark…” he whispered with steady voice and Clark sighed in relief, his heart
finding again his normal pace.
“Yes, Star, you’re safe…” he brushed the stray locks from Bruce’s forehead and
the younger man watched his hands with apprehension. “I’ll take you to Alfred:
he’ll know what to do…”
But Bruce jerked in his arms and Superman rubbed his back soothingly, scared at
how cold the human was. He was barefoot and clad only in loose pants and a T-
shirt after all.
“No…” Bruce evened his breath and tried to wipe his eyes yet his hand just
didn’t obey. “I don’t want to upset them again…” he closed his eyes “Tony
almost died today…he…he needs to rest…”
Superman closed his eyes inhaling deeply.
“And you need a doctor…I’ll take you to Dr. Thompkins…”
This time Bruce didn’t speak just jerked upright overcoming for a second
Superman’s grip only to collapse in the alien’s chest.
“Okay, okay; I understand…she’ll inform them and they’ll be…upset. But they
must be already in turmoil with your upsence.”
Bruce shook his head.
“I…I left a note…”
Clark nodded.
“You covered everything, huh? Fine, but we need to take you to a shelter.
You’re shivering…”
Indeed, Bruce’s teeth rattled and his body trembled uncontrollably.
“There’s…there’s an old greenhouse…”
Clark had seen it many times during his stalking days so he grabbed Bruce and
flew there, feeling how tense the human’s body was. He sensed how tired his
Star was but he didn’t relax in his arms neither let his head rest in his
carrier’s shoulder. To Clark’s huge disappointment.
He landed smoothly in front of the rectangular medium sized structure made from
transaparent reinforced glass. Although neglected for years as the grown weeds
outside showed, the door was quite strong and Superman supporting Bruce with
one hand needed to push to open it.
It was dark since the night had moved on and there wasn’t a source of light. Of
course Superman immediately saw a switcher that turned on the lamps yet on
pressing it nothing happened so he detected the place using his night vision.
He could easily see the pots with withered plants, the flower beds that now
hosted only overgrown weeds, the box with the gardening tools left tidy inside,
a cast iron heater with a raw of logs ready to warm the plants during winter, a
metallic cabinet, the big rectangular bench where a hanging oil lamp stood
amongst some plates for pots.
He placed Bruce gently in one of the chairs and examined the oil lamp: they had
such lamps in the farm for the barn. It still had oil and he used his laser
vision to light it.
Instantly, the room was cast in a warm yellow light and hundreds of shadows
were created. Superman felt at home and a sweet nostalgia filled him and then
he turned to the chair where he had let Bruce. But it was empty.
Bruce’s form mystically illuminated by the lamp’s light was in front of the
door, dripping. Superman rushed there and Bruce turned calmly to him.
“I have to go patrolling” he said determined stopping his teeth from rattling.
Superman wanted to touch his shoulders but restrained himself though Bruce’s
determined eyes were a turn on.
“Not tonight, Bruce…You need to rest…”
Bruce smiled weakly.
“You scanned me?” he arched his eyebrows.
“No, I see it in your eyes…”
Bruce gulped.
“Gotham can’t wait for my nonsense; they could hit again and even if they
don’t, crime never stops.”
Superman admired how easily this human hid his suffering and exhaustion.
“What?” Bruce asked.
“I can keep my ears on the city and intervene if something happens so
discreetly that they’ll think it’s Batman” he blushed.
But Bruce shook his head stubbornly but his body gave in to a violent wave of
shivering that made his knees bent, Superman catching him. Clark didn’t want
anything more to know that his Star was still in considerable pain.
Bruce looked at Clark’s eyes searching.
“You’re in pain, Star…” Clark whispered and his own voice was filled with pain.
Bruce smiled softly and quietly stood on his feet.
“You did scan me…”
The void in Clark’s chest, where Bruce just was, felt horribly.
“Actually, you told me…back in the forest…”
Bruce lowered his eyes and cleared his throat which led to a hard cough that
made Superman cringe.
“It stopped now…Thank you for everything but I have work to do!”
He made to open the door but Clark held his wrist gently causing Bruce’s
narrowed stare.
“No way, Bruce” he shook his head in refusal as determined as Bruce. “I don’t
believe you and I’m sure you’re still in pain.”
“I’ve patrolled in worse…” he snapped and made to press the door handle but
Superman didn’t relent. Bruce cast him an annoyed stare.
“Not this time!”
“You think you can hold me here?” Bruce knitted his brows and narrowed his
eyes.
Superman crossed his arms, yanked his head and arched his eyebrows.
“I’ll tell Alfred everything…”
Bruce’s eyes widened in outrage and disbelief.
“You’re a filthy blackmailer!’’
Superman nodded protruding his lips matter-of-factly.
“I’m afraid this is true” he answered amused by Bruce’s expression but
instantly he rushed to support Bruce who shuddered. “And…I’m right” he said and
brought Bruce inner. “We need to warmen you up; you’re soaked and dripping.”
He placed Bruce on the same chair and put some logs in the heater igniting them
with his heat vision. A jubilant flame burst and he blew till it festered. He
closed the little glass door with a smile because he had years to do that.
He found Bruce seated on the ground his knees hugged in his chest; he was
looking around fondly.
“I used to sit like this here when we came with my mom to care for the plants…”
he said and his voice was so mystic that Superman thought of a fever. “She
liked to tend the plants and I liked helping her…We’re taking a basket with
sandwiches and cake and lemonade with us and it was like a pic-nic…” Bruce’s
voice cracked in the weight of the memories and Superman felt tears slithering
his cheeks – tears that waited there from time.
Bruce remembered Superman’s presence and raised his ablaze eyes in Clark’s face
that chiseled by the lamp’s light seemed like the face of a god.
“You must consider me weak…a whiny petty vi…”
Superman was kneeling before him in no time, his fingertips touching feathery
Bruce’s pale lips.
“You’re the bravest, strongest person I ever met…” he whispered and Bruce’s
sparkly eyes piercing his own made him lean his lips to touch the younger
man’s.
But the slightest flicker in Bruce’s eyes shook him out of his dream and stood
up clearing his throat.
The room began warming but Bruce was trembling.
“You must take off the wet clothes” he said as casually as he could and took in
Bruce’s frown. “You’re freezing and you’re already in for a heavy cold.”
“I don’t have any clothes” Bruce deepened his voice and stood because from the
floor Superman seemed like a powerful adult to a frightened kid.
“I could fly to the Manor and bring…” but seeing Bruce’s disapproval he looked
at his cape – they have done it again… “You can wrap my cape: it’s waterproof
and very warm.”
He unclenched his cape under Bruce’s sideways glance; of course he remembered
how soft and warm Superman’s cape was on his skin like no human fabric, like
clouds dressing him. That day Superman stopped Flass the same cape warmed his
frozen body and transmitted a rare sense of safety to him.
Superman offered him the cape and moved to the door.
“Take off your clothes and wear this; I’ll be outside, when you’re ready, call
me” he smiled knowingly on Bruce’s suspicious stare. “I won’t peek; I
swear…boyscout’s honour.”
He went outside closing the door and stepped some feet away to give privacy to
Bruce but not let him unprotected. He didn’t like the power he sensed in the
forest.
Bruce felt oddly being left alone: relieved and empty at the same time. He
removed his clothes and underwear realizing for the first time that he was only
on loose pants and T-shirt: he smirked fondly thinking of Alfred’s reaction;
however, his devoted butler didn’t say anything when saw him with his T-shirt
worn inside-out – surely Alfred would have suspected that something grave
happened but Bruce doubted if his mind would reach there…
He wrapped carefully the red cape around his body savoring the familiar warmth,
the sense of safety and the manly scent the fabric carried. Then he hid his
underwear blushing on the thought of Superman seeing it and hanged his clothes
on the chairs’ backs to dry. He called Clark; the idea of Superman guarding him
insulted him though a decade ago it’d have been a dream for him.
On getting back in, Superman straggled to keep his eyes from bulging. Bruce
wrapped in red, his red cape, was an incredible sight. The red flattered the
youth – not that he needed it…- creating a gorgeous contrast with his brunette
hair and his pale porcelain flesh which in the scarse spots not covered from
the fabric was brushed from the soft light of the lamp and the heater revealing
his Star’s aura. And his body’s intoxicating perfume undettered from the
clothes, mingled with the rain’s scent almost fogged Clark’s reasoning.
He wished his cape wasn’t so big that Bruce couldn’t cover almost his entire
body except from his feet and neck; also he detected a pouch hanging to Bruce’s
chest. But seeing Bruce’s suspicious eyes and the way he clutched the cape more
to his body Clark gulped and smiled kindly, running his hand to his wet locks.
“We must dry your hair…” he mumbled shyly. “Do you mind?” he inquired and when
Bruce just nodded, he began blowing tenderly warm air till Bruce’s locks dry
shone like silk.
“Well, now we need to find you a place to sleep…” he stuttered proud for his
work and under Bruce’s testing eyes he opened the metallic cabinet and
retreaved two blankets in fairly good condition.
Clark turned to Bruce cocking an eyebrow.
“You were sleeping here too?”
Bruce looked at the cloudy angry sky from the greenhouse’s transparent roof.
“Sometimes at the noon or when we heard that there would be shooting stars…Here
the sky is more clear…not tonight of course…”
Superman spread the blanket and gestured to Bruce who lay down hesitantly
minding the cape and hastily tightening the fabric when feeling it slipped.
Clark bit his lips for this reaction of a person being many times forcibly
naked in front of hostile stares; and for the pain he could detect in Bruce’s
perfectly unfazed features. He tucked in the younger man with the blanket and
Bruce looked him in wonder.
“I can leave if you want… you know… to feel more relaxed and sleep.”
“Never mind…I can’t sleep either way; Alfred gave me sedatives but they didn’t
help…”
And then Clark had an idea: he began re-playing with a tender whistle the
melody of Bruce’s favorite lullaby as he had memorized it from that night.
Bruce’s eyes widened.
“It’s…”
“Hush, Star… let sleep come.’’ Lean on me and rest…Let me carry the pain…
It was a matter of minutes before Bruce succumbed to exhaustion settling in
foetal position; he was still shivering and his temperature didn’t rise to
normal. So Clark hesitantly and carefully spooned him feathery wrapping him in
his hot body to transfer his warmth to him.
He sighed and fought the temptation to kiss that velvety cheek that glowed
softness, the silken eyelashes brushing smoothly his cheekbone. His lips were
pulled to that flesh but he clenched his jaw and stopped himself, feeling
sweatdrops in his forehead. He yanked his stare to the gloom sky that was
devoid of any star. It didn’t matter: he had the most beautiful star in his
arms.
***** Chapter 59 *****
Chapter Notes
     I'd like to thank all of you for reading, commenting, leaving kudos.
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Bruce groaned in his sleep and stirred weakly clenching his jaw as his eyes
under the eyelids went into rapid movements. Clark was watching; his physiology
made him impervious to exhaustion and almost independent of sleep. So he
exploited the rare gift of staring at his sleeping Star.
But unfortunately after just two hours of peaceful sleep Bruce became restless,
stirring in his arms. His temperature had slowly reached the normal level but
then it slightly rose - which was reasonable since Bruce took all of the
downpour and Gotham’s summers weren’t mild. He wanted to touch his lips to his
forehead to check if he had any fever but he berated himself because it was a
really dump excuse for more contact since he could estimate Bruce’s temperature
without that.
What scared him was the fact that Bruce was having a nightmare that caused his
vitals to go crazy. Watching totally useless to offer any comfort, he
understood Bruce’s reluctance to fell asleep since during sleep’s let- go his
monsters returned to torture him. He brought his lips over Bruce’s ear,
fighting the whim to devour.
“It’s only a nightmare, Bruce; I’m with you now: nobody can harm you…” he
whispered and closed his eyes in delight sucking the younger man’s scent.
He brushed Bruce’s meticulously covered arm gently like a summer breeze; he
could sense the bruises his careless treatment left on the tender human flesh
and cringed more so when he sensed other bruises that weren’t his and
definitely emanated something…weird. But at least, his Star’s sleep became
quiet again and Clark relieved let his head lower ready to touch Bruce’s
shoulder to get more from his aroma and more contact. It needed much resolution
to stop his head’s descend because he was aware that Bruce even asleep would
immediately sense it and jerk upright ready to fight.
He roamed Bruce’s body with his eyes, not even letting form the thought of
using his X-ray vision. However, his eyes stopped over his pelvis not to admire
the shape of his buttocks but because he knew that there was a major injurry
lurking to incapacitate Bruce. It must hurt every day but his brave Star hid it
perfectly to not panic his friends.
Suddenly, the blanket slipped and along the red cape revealing a lean, shapely
calf. How he wanted to touch that minimum of bare flesh… But he took the cape,
covered gently the exposed leg and then put on the blanket. He looked longingly
the now covered calf for a whole minute and finally sighed and took his eyes
from there.
It was a difficult night! A blessing and a curse at the same time...Being
permitted to be so close - which was a big deal, a great gift itself - but not
to touch or do the other things he dreamt.
He stood up and used his super speed to throw some logs to the heater and
return to Bruce in no time.
And then Bruce began rasping, quiet moans leaving his mouth and Clark saw a
sapphire emerald orb opening tired and then closing for a second in defeat
before re-opening - he was sure that Bruce had forgotten that he wasn’t alone
so let his mask fall. He was in pain, considerable pain; Clark remembered that
Bruce had told him so when he discovered him in the forest.
Bruce’s confusion lasted only a few seconds and he rose slightly with his eyes
narrowed feeling Clark’s stare and close proximity. He had heard his voice
dissolving his nightmare but he thought that it was his own wish - little
Bruce’s wish - to have someone save him.
Clark blushed and braced himself for an angry outburst, distancing hastily to
give Bruce space.
“I’m sorry...I just wanted to warm you because the heater and the blanket
weren’t…”
But Bruce closed his eyes and brought his palm over them, clearly controlling
his breath in what surely was a meditation technique.
“And you did a terrific job…” he commented feeling his slightly raised
temperature.
Clark sat on the floor and approached slowly, his eyes watching eagerly every
detail in Bruce’s face; the lamp was still illuminating the space and though he
didn’t need external lighting to see he was grateful for that warm hue over
Bruce’s features.
“Are you in pain?” it was a question yet his tone was certain because Bruce
kept his eyes shut and breathed in pace.
Bruce’s effort to concentrate shuttered from the real pain and agony Clark’s
voice emanated. Not that he expected to ease that pain so simply; his pelvis
lately ached more than usual and his migraines made it difficult for the
meditation to work; which was actually his fault because with the incidents of
the last hours and his nonsense he had lost his concentration.
“It’s nothing” he answered flatly and rubbed his eyes.
Clark nodded in disbelief; that stubborn human!
“Yet it made you wake up which with your levels of pain tolerance says
something!”
“I’m used to it.”
However he kept his body in a strange ankle that spared his pelvis of his
weight and Clark pressed his lips.
“It’s your pelvis.”
Bruce cast him a neutral glance and snorted but it was for himself not for
Clark.
“I told you that too in the forest, huh?” his voice was steady but some air
came out a bit pressed from his effort to withstand the pain.
Clark grimaced; he could just confirm that because it was the truth but he
could admit the other truth and give Bruce reasons to trust him. He cleared his
throat.
“You told me in the forest but I already knew you have a bad injury in your
spine’s S2-S4 section...and to your prostate” his eyes wanted to dart down
under Bruce’s questioning gaze but he resolutely kept them straight.
“How?” he asked because although Clark had X-ray vision Bruce never caught him
staring at his pelvis.
“That day after Joker kidnapped you - the day I...destroyed the wall in
Leslie’s clinic. I had sneaked in your room and…” he sighed, shaking his head
“I scanned your body under the sheet and I saw the injuries - fleetingly
because Selina caught me and kicked me out.”
Bruce remembered when he woke up in the clinic’s room confused from the drugs
and the concussion to see an enraged Clark, Selina mad and Leslie with Alfred
just entering puzzled. He never learnt what really happened when Clark was
alone with him and hearing the man admitting it was another token of Superman’s
moral value. Because Bruce was sure that Clark after the effect stopped felt
ashamed for his actions.
Clark looked carefully Bruce’s beautiful and strong eyes and was relieved that
there was no sign of anger; maybe it was the pain that softened his reaction.
“You kept it a secret” Bruce said and brushed a silken lock that slipped to his
forehead. “Thank you.”
Clark’s eyes widened.
“You’re not mad at me for scanning your body?” he asked his surprise surpassing
his joy.
Bruce shrugged.
“I can’t hold you responsible for what the substance urged you to do…I should
have warned you.”
Clark shook his head and grabbed the chance.
“You always find a way to blame yourself for the deeds of the others” he
snapped and Bruce stabbed him with his eyes. “You can’t hold ME responsible but
you keep holding yourself responsible for the suffering your tormentors spread
to people.”
Bruce turned his eyes to the lamp and Clark felt empty without these eyes on
him.
“It’s not the same, Clark” he replied with his voice hoarse and determined;
Clark couldn’t honestly compare what he had done under the effect to the curse
that followed him his entire life.
He shivered hearing again Bagdana’s threat against his loved ones.
Clark was ready to retort that it was unfair what he did to himself but he took
in the almost undetectable change in Bruce’s eyes and to his horror his Star’s
face distorted in a slight grimace of pain that Clark knew was only the peak of
the iceberg of Bruce’s pain.
He grabbed the younger man and wrapped him in his chest; Bruce cringed but
didn’t fight.
“It hurts too much!” Clark exclaimed without accepting anything else.
Bruce made to move yet the pain, the exhaustion and mostly the safe warmth of
Clark’s chest stopped him.
“It’s the damn fatigue!” he justified. “When rested it almost doesn’t hurt.”
But Clark didn’t buy that.
“That injury is too bad, Bruce…”
Bruce looked him in the eyes as if saying ‘so what?’ Leslie told him that it
couldn’t be operated and there was no chance he’d stop protecting Gotham.
“But it’s not fatal” he snapped and now he did move so Clark just took away his
hands watching him stand and walk to the bench.
Bruce began feeling overwhelmed and on edge; he wanted to run again under the
rainfalls that were hitting continuously the glass greenhouse. He wanted to
fly.
“I can give you back your wings, my Lilith – the wings you denied choosing to
live among humans…”
A spear impaled his skull and an excruciating pain smashed his pelvis bending
his knees without being able to stop his fall but a wave of air and two
powerful hands held him gently and brought him back to the blanket.
Bruce kneeled to not burden his pelvis with his weight and Clark supported him
kneeling on his side, counting his controlled breaths and gulping because even
though he didn’t read Bruce’s pain brain waves he could see some sweatdrops
bursting on his forehead.
“It will pass…it will pass…” Bruce mumbled the mandra he was saying the first
years of his captivity when the pain was unbearable: the pain didn’t pass then
but it was a consolation.
“Let me see, Bruce” Clark whispered desperate though he knew that Bruce
wouldn’t permit him look his body especially THAT part.
Bruce shook his head in denial, grinding his teeth.
“It’ll pass: it always passes.”
Clark felt sweat and that was rare for the Man of Steel who didn’t sweat even
with the hardest physical activity.
“Please, let me see it better. I…I swear I won’t touch. But we must know if it
hasn’t worsened.”
Bruce turned his eyes to regard Clark’s sweaty face: the powerful god-like man
was scared…Scared for him, scared that Bruce would deny being checked, scared
of being unable to help him.
Clark saw Bruce’s stare and was ready for a blast.
Bruce felt the urge to run away, not that he’d go far with that amount of pain
but certainly he could use his ‘stealth mode’ to evade Superman. Yet he felt so
safe there, so warm and seeing Clark’s affectionate eyes those red-blood cat-
like irises disappeared.
He nodded and Clark’s eyes bulged and he was speechless for a few seconds.
“Well?” Bruce asked nonchalant as if what he permitted was something mundane.
“Hm…Yes…” Clark stuttered slightly blushing which made the muscles in Bruce’s
face relax in a faint smile.
Clark’s trempling hands came to take off the cape from Bruce’s shoulders but he
stopped abruptly without waiting for the younfer man’s scowl. He bent his
fingers and gulped.
“I can scan you above the fabric…” he said and saw Bruce’s satisfaction which
was the ‘okay’ for him to down his body to the pelvis. “We ran an experimental
program with Doctor Elliot in Metropolis’ General Hospital and he told me that
my vision is more accurate than both the MRI and PET scan…”
Clark bit his lips because it sounded like bragging but relaxed hearing Bruce
chuckle watching his reaction.
“Then I’m lucky…” he commented and Superman changed into his most sensitive
vision.
Well, not so lucky…Superman got grim as he saw the S2-S4 region. That wasn’t
good…Damn! This was awful!
“What your super scanner says?” Bruce asked seeing only Superman’s raven locks
which seemed very soft under the dim light of the greenhouse.
Clark didn’t want to tell and raised hesitantly his head because he knew that
Bruce would read his expression.
“I think Dr. Thompkins must re-examine you” he said resolutely – he knew it was
cowardice throwing the ball in someone else’s field but…
Unfortunately, he saw Bruce’s eyes narrowing.
“Your super scanner showed something bad” he said so casually that Clark
gulped.
“It looks worse than the last time” he admitted brushing nervously his
trademark curl from his forehead.
His guilt pierced his insides: just a few days ago he had attacked Bruce and
hit him unconcerned about his injuries. Maybe his deeds caused that
deterioration.
Bruce wasn’t surprised neither frightened; it was expected after all and he
couldn’t live with limits. Clark admired his coolness or it was just his self-
punishing attitude?
As if understanding Clark’s thoughts Bruce stood up averting his gaze.
“It’s probably the fatigue” he said flatly “when I’ll manage to get some rest
it’d be better.”
But Clark following his ascent held gently Bruce’s upper arms causing a frown.
The Man of Steel was processing a plan in his mind; he wouldn’t let his Star
fighting on the verge of impairment neither he could live with the agony of a
hit destroying the already injured part of the spine.
“I can fix it” he spat determined and afraid at the same time.
Bruce lolled his head to the side and regarded Clark’s affectionate, caring
eyes sparkling with agony: Ra’s’ concoction was too resilient and Superman
still felt love: strong, torturous love. He was angry and simultaneously he
felt strong sympathy for that man who was suffering because of a despicable,
evil plan. He pressed his lips and touched his fingertips to Clark’s soft and
rich lips that sucked the contact causing Clark’s heartbeat go crazy.
Bruce shook his head immediately recognizing the signs and closed his eyes.
“You need to stay away from me, Clark; at least, till you fight off the
addiction.”
Clark’s eyes shone.
“There’s no addiction! What I feel for you is true!”
Bruce had the urge to bring his hands on his waist yet he remembered that was
dressed only in a cape and hastily used both hands to tighten the fabric on him
to Clark’s sigh.
“You can’t know that” Bruce said calm but determined. “For almost six months
you’ve been constantly exposed to that effect” Clark yanked his head backwards
in frustration “and your addiction became too strong” he continued unfazed “so
you’ll need time to overcome it completely. So staying away from me will help
you.”
Clark felt a fire in his body urging him to capture Bruce’s lips and prove to
him that there was no addiction; yet, now, without the effect he realized that
this would only prove the opposite. He rubbed his face under Bruce’s
scrutinizing stare.
“The night I first saw you at Falcone’s party addiction couldn’t have been
estamblished and that night I felt exactly as I’m feeling now!” Bruce opened
his mouth to say something but Clark didn’t let him. “My memory is eidetic and
I can compare what I was feeling during the effect with what I feel now…” he
sighed. “And this is what I felt that first night but stronger and definitely
not what I was experiencing all these months: under the effect I felt crazy
passion, a fire melting me, anger, fury, jealousy, possessiveness…” he
swallowed “the need to…to ravage your body into maximize my satisfaction. I
even prepared a replica of your bedroom to kidnap and inprison you…”
Bruce shuddered but Clark’s honesty to expose his deepest darkest feelings was
disarming; he licked his lips as Clark ran his fingers though his hair
unsettled by his confession of how evil he had become.
“And now?” Bruce’s voice came out lower and shier than he planned to.
The Man of Steel huffed.
“I still think about you all the time; I still want…want to touch you but only
if it is to make you happy too. While under the effect MY needs fueled my
actions but…now…the only thing I care about it’s your needs, your wellbeing,
your happiness… When I see you in suffering…it’s agony.”
Bruce averted his head biting his lip hard; all these were…nice but
just…weren’t for him. Those words must have been told to someone else, those
feelings should have been for someone else…someone without his past, without
all the things that he dragged with him as a heavy chain…someone normal…someone
who wouldn’t have felt a painful twist in his guts hearing that the most
beautiful man on earth loved him…
Clark touched feathery the human’s chin and lifted it slightly to bring Bruce’s
sparkling eyes to his; though Bruce hid his emotions perfectly Clark could
decipher even the sparks in the emerald stars of his eyes.
“I didn’t want to cause you more pain…Star…” he chuckled. “I’m so…so stupid; I
always say and do the wrong things when it’s about you…”
Bruce felt like crying realizing that he couldn’t ever live what every other
human could; if things had been different, he’d be the happiest person on earth
with this. But now he only felt a strong heartbeat of agony that urged him to
stop all these – and the worse he had created feelings to someone as perfect as
Superman without being able to respond. It was unfair for Clark opening his
kind heart only to bring fear and angst to the one he loved.
“You didn’t say neither did anything wrong, Clark…” he shook his head forcing
his eyes to be steely. “You just address the wrong person…And it’s unfair to
you being tormented by something that should have given you happiness; you
deserve happiness, Clark, someone who can feel and appreciate your emotions and
you. Who can give you his or her love and…body. I wish I could be that person
but I’m not. I’m sorry…”
He turned his back and with his determined way moved to his clothes, taking
them in his hands ready to wear them even though still wet; he meant to return
to the cave to don the armor and patrol. He could tell that it wasn’t midnight
yet even though the clouds covered the stars and the moon.
Clark’s chest felt heavy, not so much about himself but for Bruce. He might be
faced with a refusal of his advances and a letdown of his desire yet Bruce was
in a hell, unable to feel...to feel worthy for love, unable to let go, unable
to be happy, to live. And he couldn’t allow that! His life was devoted to
people; to save them, to help them, to give them a ray of sunshine in their
lives. He just couldn’t abandon a tortured human being like Bruce, a special
human being who despite his own pain decided to help others enjoy what he
couldn’t.
He walked softly though he had the whim to fly to him and wrap his arms around
his body to make him feel that everything will be okay and that he will be
always there waiting and helping...and loving. But he knew that such rush
movements only raised back Bruce’s defences. So he just stood before him.
Bruce inhaled deeply: why Clark was so persistent? So good and caring? And why
he couldn’t understand and offer all these to someone who could appreciate
them, feel happiness and return something? Someone who didn’t carry a curse
dooming his loved ones.
“You’re not the wrong person, Bruce; you’re a remarkable, beautiful human being
who gives happiness to his people” Bruce shook his head exasperated. “The fact
you said those things proves that you indeed appreciate my feelings: Bruce, let
me try, don’t push me away. Don’t deny me the chance; don’t deny yourself the
chance. You’re the bravest person I ever met and you won back your life from
your abusers” he pressed his lips “Don’t let those horrible men define your
life and take from you the happiness you so much deserve.”
Clark’s agony was really touching for Bruce though he was aware that his eyes
were completely still in Superman’s honest, beautiful eyes.
“I can wait, Bruce but please don’t forbid me to love you because I can’t do
that…” his hands moved to cup Bruce’s jaw but he let his hands drop though
Bruce didn’t resist.
Bruce stared at Clark’s features; that kindness and sincere interest at the
balcony of Wayne Manor when the strange reporter asked him - begged him - to
let him help the slave escape Falcone’s clutches and then the same warmth the
day Superman stopped Flass and offered to take him away only to return the
helpless toy to his master with broken heart. If only…
“Last night I made a pass on Tony” he spat playing his ace to repel Clark’s
love.
Bruce saw immediately that his words stabbed the Man of Steel like a knife of
Kryptonite; he felt bad but it was the only way Clark would understand the
truth about him and move on. He had to be blatant honest with him.
Clark rubbed his eyes; he felt sadness and anger because Stark had the luck to
be Bruce’s friend from when he was a little child and now this bastard was the
only one Bruce would ever trust to touch him. Damn! Yet he just couldn’t be
angry with Bruce, seeing the younger man’s stoic expression and his beautiful
eyes watching him sympathetically Clark’s love only flared up.
“Damn!” he chose to remain honest. “He is the lucky after all…”
“Lucky?” Bruce frowned.
Clark shook his head.
“The one who has your love...The one you want for lover...I mean, I can
understand it: you can trust him, you love him from your childhood; you feel
safe with him while your experiences with me…”
Bruce raised his palm to stop him; He didn’t want that fine man to believe that
it was his fault.
“I love him as a friend, as a brother not as a lover…”
Clark’s eyebrows arched surprised.
“Then?”
Bruce rubbed his forehead; migraine and the pain in his pelvis were all the
time there as if reminding him of his past.
“I just wanted to prove things to myself” he didn’t want to elaborate “and took
advantage of Tony’s unconditional love to seduce him” he saw Clark raising an
eyebrow in disbelief.
“I doubt you needed to seduce him…” he couldn’t supress his jealousy imagining
Bruce’s gorgeous body using his training and intelligence to turn on Stark -
lucky bastard!
Clark had managed to just steal some peeks of Bruce’s magnificent body… And
Stark had everything: filthy riches, frantic life, fame and most of all - Clark
didn’t give a damn about the rest but for that...- he had Bruce’s friendship,
deep love and now… Bruce’s body ‘seducing’ him. He felt his groin burn only on
the thought and the images - sometimes his ability to combine his eidetic
memory’s data with new information was really tormenting.
Bruce had no trouble understanding Clark’s thoughts and the crease on his
forehead was very talkative.
“He didn’t lay a finger on me despite I…” he gulped “tortured him.”
Clark would beg to be ‘tortured’ like this and his eyes took a traitorous
wishful expression that he hurried to change before Bruce...well, of course
Bruce already noticed.
“Tony understood and resisted my advances.”
Clark wanted to shake Stark’s hand though he didn’t like the man at all. Yet he
had to give him that: he sensed whatever was happening to Bruce and didn’t
exploit even for a night of heavenly pleasure; even for the man with whom Stark
probably would have been together if things were different. But things changed
the life of the two friends forever and their chance for a romantic
relationship. One thing only remained the same: the pure love between them.
Clark despite his relief and satisfaction he felt a deep numbing melancholy for
the two friends. But still he had some questions: what Stark understood about
Bruce that made him resist? Because Clark was sure that if Stark realized that
Bruce trully wanted him would have dived into despite his affair with Pepper
Potts.
“What Stark understood?” he inquired softly.
Bruce yanked his head and sighed; this game of honesty had become too
uncomfortable but maybe after that Clark would be free.
“That I didn’t really desired an intercourse; that I was doing something out
of…out of…” desperation “selfism and nonsense’’ Clark frowned at both words
that had no place in Bruce; the human gritted his teeth. “Tony understood that
it wasn’t some desire or sexual emotion that pushed me to seduce him. He
understood…” he inhaled deeply “the truth.”
Clark nodded pressing his lips.
“Which is?” after he uttered it he felt that he was pushing too far and Bruce
might kick but he needed to know.
Bruce gulped and opened his mouth without uttering anything for a moment just
looking the downpour whipping the glass roof under a rough, unfriendly sky that
had no resemblance to the starry sky of his afternoon dream. It was as if the
sky mirrored Bagdana’s irritation with the difference that the sky was Lilith’s
realm.
He jerked his head to erase these thoughts and Clark narrowed his eyes.
“The truth…” Bruce said returning his gaze to Clark’s face. “The truth is that
I just wanted to prove to myself that Falcone and the rest were wrong” Clark
prompted him with his eyes. “That I’m not just a thing for use; I’m not someone
who only attracts monsters, who only creates dark desires and a whim to be
ramaged. I wanted to prove to myself that despite what they believed and said I
can be loved and desired by a decent, good person who wouldn’t want just to
drain my body from everything it has…” he chuckled trying to ignore Clark’s
sympathetic stare. “It’s ridiculous, really…And I don’t really care – I mean, I
don’t even feel any need to be…But that moment I wanted to prove them wrong” he
tightened his grip to the cape. “And Tony was the best candidate because he
loves me; I could trust him and he would…” he chuckled “do me the favor…”
He felt his soul stark naked in front of Clark and it was worse than if the red
cape had fallen off his body. But Superman was speechless which could be a good
sign.
“I tried to manipulate him, to play with his feelings, hurting him in the end
because even if we…had proceeded” he closed his eyes “the next day I would have
been again my usual self and we would have lost something precious.” He
snorted. “In the end I just proved how right they were; that I’m a slut.”
On that Clark’s eyes narrowed and he held Bruce’s upper arms gently, minding
the bruises.
“You’re not a slut; do not ever say that again for yourself…”
Bruce’s sparkling eyes were on his and Clark felt the anger for those who
abused his Star changing to a sweet paralysis.
“Who else uses his friend to satisfy his ego without even wanting to have an
intercource?”
Clark lowered his head.
“You’re too harsh to yourself; your life was a hell that left its deep marks on
your body and soul, Joker blew your head and drugged you, I…” he blinked and
gulped; all this might be his fault too. “I attacked you, I hit your head and…I
said awful things to you I don’t believe. People were and some of them still
are cruel to you; don’t, don’t let them get to you. Please.”
Bruce didn’t say anything and the sounds from the logs inside the heater along
with the falling of the rain was the only sound in the greenhouse. Clark could
feel the increased heat of Bruce’s body under his hands and the human’s scent
mingled with the smell of the logs that loved from his childhood dazed him.
“You said…” Clark almost whispered “that you wanted to prove that a decent man
could really love you and…” his thirsty body moaned “make love to you” he
grinned uncomfortable and blushed. “I don’t meet your standards for ‘decent’?”
Bruce gulped.
“Of course you do…You…you’re perfect.”
Clark’s dead serious eyes locked with Bruce’s shy eyes.
“I love you, Bruce; your torturers were wrong: any person can love you and
devote his whole existence to your happiness. But if you let me being the one…”
his voice cracked; he was overwhelmed by his dripping feelings, the rain, the
atmosphere, Bruce’s enchanting eyes.
Bruce felt numb because Clark’s love emanated from his every cell and warmed up
the whole place and his own frozen heart.
“Let me melt the ice, Star and illuminate your haunted heart…”
He knew he was almost begging but Clark didn’t feel ashamed; he had his eyes
closed and sensed his Star trembling as if ready to cry. No, please, don’t cry,
Star; let me try… His head leaned over Bruce’s face and his Star’s breath
excited his needy lips.
Bruce saw Clark’s lips approaching his but didn’t jerk to avoid them; he felt
numb and just didn’t want to fight that safe paralysis.
Clark touched his lips to those velvet soft lips and moaned from being finally
allowed to do that without his Star resisting and fighting him. He began
massaging gently exploratingly, feeling Bruce’s open eyes on his which remained
closed to suck the dream-like sense.
Bruce panicked and averted slightly his lips but upon realizing that the
pleasant paralyzing wave began leaving his body as Clark sighed and began
reluctantly taking off his lips, he returned his lips to Clark’s.
Clark’s eyes watered and his heart gave multiple joyful jolts feeling Bruce’s
lips finding again his. Shyly, testingly, so incredibly soft that Clark’s body
felt goose bumps and followed the younger man’s initiative reminding himself to
be extra cautious to not panic him again.
But his hands on their own accord cupped the back of Bruce’s head relishing the
silken locks caressing greedily while his other hand touched gently the human’s
jaw to deepen slowly, carefully the kiss.
Bruce tensed on this; his abusers loved to grab his hair and his head forcing
him to do what they wanted but Clark was just caressing not forcing, sending
more painkilling paralysis to his body. He didn’t jerk away as his initial urge
was: he attacked Clark’s gentle lips as a punishment for cupping his head and
felt a loose smile forming on the alien’s pretty face. Clark had his eyes still
closed yet Bruce couldn’t just let control so easily.
Their lips were dancing and Bruce was surprised at how synchronized they were;
Clark had let his jaw and was now caressing his cheek trying to limit his
groans in case they reminded Bruce of those brutal men but Bruce came closer,
his body nestling in Superman’s remembering the sense of that day that the Man
of Steel carried him away from the frozen forest; he smiled thinking that there
was a ‘worrying’ tendency for him to end up in Superman’s arms.
Clark’s tongue wanted to explore Bruce’s mouth - not invade like the last time
- yet Clark restrained himself in case the human felt threatened; instead he
trailed soft – he used his entire skil to be as soft as the breeze – kisses
along Bruce’s velvet cheek to his cheekbone opening his eyes exactly when he
kissed the chiseled bone. Bruce’s eyes sparkled, the emerald star inside
dazzling Clark; the sapphire orbs were puzzled but definitely not frozen in
terrible memories and to his excitement the pupils were dilated – his Star was
shyly enjoying his ministrations.
His heart beat joyfully yet he noticed that Bruce was still clenching tightly
his cape and if he did even a small wrong move he would fly away.
“I can show you how is to be loved…” he whispered purposely looking all the
time to Bruce’s eyes giving him the ability to check his honesty. “If you
want...If you allow me…”
Bruce inhaled deeply: he felt like drowning; his heart beat frantic both from
something he was experiencing for the first time and from something he was very
familiar with. The first he had read about, it was what normal people called
arousal - well, a very shy arousal in his case -, the later, he was
experiencing his entire life: it was a deep dread whenever he realised that
someone was ready to use him. But Clark didn’t want to use, he wanted to give
to him, to give him his vast love.
His body despite the bliss of Clark’s ministrations tensed urging him to shove
Clark off.
Clark’s hypersensitive body felt the tension although Bruce’s eyes were poised.
His guts twisted and he was sure that he had lost Bruce and that the younger
man was ready to distance himself and raise his fences.
Yet the last thing Clark would expect and hope happened. Bruce hesitantly and
slightly trembling touched his lips to Clark’s stunning him. Clark despite his
surprise and mind numbing enthusiasm noticed that Bruce had his eyes closed
softly controlling his breaths: his Star was struggling with his demons… He
felt awed and awfully weak to help as always when concerned Bruce.
Bruce was hearing again Bagdana’s threat from his dream as moved his lips to
meet Clark’s. He was on the verge of stopping to not add another person to
those in danger but then he remebered the forest when Chill’s flashback had
bent him; he had felt Bagdana’s powerful aura storming at him but he couldn’t
escape the flashback and fight the demon.
 And then Clark’s hands held him carefully, his warm body kneeling next to him
and his voice told him that the demon was gone. No doubt the demon could attack
again Clark but Bruce couldn’t just push away every person he loved making the
favor to Bagdana and isolating himself; maybe that was the demon’s plan: to
scare him into being alone and more vulnerable to his attacks. Maybe letting
his feelings for Clark free and accepting this perfect man’s love could thwart
the demon.
His lips caressed hesitantly Clark’s and heard the Man of Steel gasping which
encouraged him to seak full contact.
“Prince slut!” Falcone’s cruel voice jeered him. “Yar the prince of all
whores!”
“You’re a walking carcass…” Bane mocked him. “Only worthy for being a whore…”
“When Superman fucks you it’ll be like a train hitting you” Ra’s sneered
smirking arrogantly.
Bruce huffed and pulled his lips causing Clark’s heart sink. Clark felt the
whim to lock his lips with Bruce’s showing him that it was okay. Yet he knew
better than doing that; he closed his eyes, breathing forcibly calmly though
his body and heart was in agony and waited.
Bruce took a deep breath, caressed Clark’s cheek, holding more relaxed the
cape, and brought again his lips to Clark’s with renewed determination. Clark’s
heart returned to its place but he still didn’t make a move, his hands
trembling at his side enjoying Bruce’s exploration and soft, extremely sensual
touch both of lips and hand.
And then as Bruce’s lips became braver and bolder, Clark began moaning and
wrapped gently his hand around the younger man’s shoulders. The Man of Steel
opened his eyes which glimmered from happiness and found Bruce’s sparkling
‘kryptonites’ staring at him inquiringly.
“You make me happy, Star...I love you…”
Bruce didn’t answer just placed his fingertips on Clark’s hot lips.
“Clark, I’m…”
Clark didn’t need to hear from Bruce that he loved him; it was too early and
Bruce had already made huge steps. He rubbed soothing circles on his back.
“Hush, Star...There’s no need for you to say anything…”
Bruce kissed him again, realizing how much he liked the feeling of Clark’s hot
flesh and Clark tightened slightly his hold on Bruce’s back and deepened the
kiss savoring Bruce’s soft flesh. Taste of cinammon and honey and orange
melting slowly stimulating his mouth and tongue.
“You taste of cinnamon, honey!”
He heard with a shudder Joker saying at the party in the Haven, the same rage
and pain boiling inside him because the bastard dared to force his Star.
“Tell me you’re allergic to cinammon!”
Bruce’s perfect performed fearful voice echoed in his mind and he wanted to
laugh with that clever remark. But thankfully Clark wasn’t allergic to
cinnamon; he couldn’t live without that special cinnamon.
Bruce’s moans through the kiss it was enough for Clark to take him in his arms
and lay him on the blanket. Bruce’s eyes with their irresistible defiance
pierced Clark’s eyes and Clark was ready to be kicked away.
“You said you could show me how it is to be loved” he said determined.
Clark’s groin rebelled wanting to push him to explore Bruce’s body still
covered carefully with the red cape. Yet keeping his mind fully vigilant Clark
remembered Bruce’s creepling injury.
“I want your first time to be perfect” Clark whispered in Bruce’s ear causing a
shudder in his spine.
Bruce grinned bitterly.
“It’s not my first time…”
Clark above him shook his head.
“It’s the first time you make love and it must be perfect.”
Bruce shook his head, one hand still holding the cape and the other brushing
Clark’s cheek.
“It can’t be perfect because I’m impaired” he said with his familiar sharpness.
Clark pressed his lips.
“I can fix it” he retorted as determined as Bruce piercing the sapphire-emerald
irises with his.
“Leslie told me that it can’t be operated; the spot is very complex and even
with robot and laser total and permanent paralysis is almost certain. If there
was a way Leslie would have pushed me to it. And my prostate is too damaged.”
Clark didn’t like the brave acceptance in his Star’s voice: there was a way.
“Some months ago I collaborated with Dr. Elliot…”
Bruce’s eyes widened.
“Thommy Elliot?”
“You know him?”
He nodded.
“It was…let’s say my friend. He became a doctor? Like my father…” his eyes were
lost somewhere Clark couldn’t go and the Man of Steel hastened to kiss his
Star’s pale, swan neck.
“Well, he is a neurosurgeon at Metropolis General Hospital. I worked with his
team in operating people with perplexed injuries that couldn’t be operated
otherwise.”
Bruce narrowed his eyes.
“My laser vision is more sensitive and fine than the medical laser and my
vision can focus 100 times better than the robots” he closed his eyes and
inhaled. “I can fix your injury; I have done it with many patients of Dr.
Elliot.”
“With his guidance.”
“I’ve been tuned to your body for months – believe me, I can breathe with your
breaths, my heart can beat along with yours. I know your injury and I can fix
it.”
“Why Leslie didn’t know about this?”
“Because Dr. Elliot kept it under heavy secrecy – I don’t know why…” his clear
blue eyes were eager.
Bruce however was hesitant; if anything went wrong, he’ll be mostly paralyzed
under the waist; on the other hand, if this injury remained sooner or later the
result would be the same…He refocused to Superman’s determined eyes; if there
was someone who would make everything to heal him that was Clark.
He nodded and Clark’s eyes widened; suddenly, the responsibility crashed even
the shoulders of the most powerful being on earth.
“Do I have to turn over?” Bruce asked nonchalant to calm Clark who nodded.
Bruce did it still wrapped in the cape and Clark touched the fabric reluctant
to take it off the man. He found the solution: he grabbed the second blanket
and covered Bruce’s legs till the edge of his – he sighed, delicious – buttocks
and raised tenderly the cape letting uncovered only the part where the injury
lay.
Bruce was completely calm but Clark was staring indecisive the pale skin that
covered the injury. Oh, Rao, help me!
“Do you trust me?” he asked throaty his Star and Bruce cast him a sideways
scowl. “It might hurt” damn! He forgot that they used anaesthetics.
“It doesn’t matter” Bruce answered and placed his head on the blanket.
Clark sighed; of course Bruce knew more than anyone about pain. He closed his
eyes and yanked his head towards the sky whispering an ancient prayer the
Kryptonians appealed to Rao. He concentrated bringing his functions, his body
to tune with Bruce’s and it was so easy…
He wanted to touch that enticing glowing flesh yet he was afraid that he’ll
lose his focus. He concentrated on the exact molecular level of the injury,
using his microscope vision. He inhaled deeply and launched the micro-laser
beams.
Bruce was breathing calmly, ready for everything, as a little burning seared
the center of his pelvis; he closed gently his eyes trusting his life to Clark.
At some point, Bruce felt a different stimulus, a bit pain and a lot…pleasure;
he didn’t jolt though his spine was run by electric current. Clark was working
his prostate.
When Clark finished he was drained and the sweatdrops he was stopping till now
began flowing. He started rasping; his agony getting out freely.
He inspected his work; there was the tiniest mark on Bruce’s pelvis and the
injury was fixed.
Bruce turned his head, his eyes calm.
“Well?”
Clark’s upset evaporated before those eyes and instead of answering his
enthusiasm pushed him forward to lock his lips with Bruce’s who encouraged made
to roll his body but Clark wrapped him gently in his arms and placed him
lightly on his back never releasing his lips till sensed that Bruce couldn’t
breathe.
“I guess that means you made it…” Bruce said nonchalant but letting a smile
brush his face.
Superman had his hands on both sides of Bruce’s torso leaning over his face
with glimmering eyes.
“You said something…before…do you still want?”
Superman’s shyness was heart warming and Bruce took the curl on his forehead
and caressed it between his fingers.
“If the doctor allows it…”
Clark grinned broadly and let his body touch Bruce’s without letting his weight
fell on the human. He trailed kisses to Bruce’s jaw line and nibbled his neck
that to his delight arched to allow him better access and…oh, God! Bruce moaned
when Clark’s mouth sucked his collarbone; yet his hand was still holding the
cape and the Man of Steel was rasping, his heart beating frantically eager for
what he desired so many months and finally was so near…
Bruce read Clark’s eyes and Clark realized.
“Let me worship your body…” his voice was cracked from passion and arousal and
Bruce just released the fabric which slid a little but didn’t reveal flesh.
Damn that cape! Clark thought and Bruce chuckled giving him the unsaid
permission to do what he wanted so much. However, Clark grateful for Bruce’s
trust took gently the younger man’s hands and led them to his suit’s unseen
spots that allowed the fabric to roll of his body. Bruce’s eyes widened
surprised and a bit overwhelmed but Clark brought that palms to his lips and
kissed them softly; then he guided them in lowering the upper half of his suit
till the hips.
Clark smiled fondly seeing Bruce’s awed stare; it was so cute seeing that
child-like expression.
Bruce couldn’t help but gape at the endeless layers of perfectly chiseled
muscles in Superman’s body. Even the tight latex of his suit didn’t prepare for
the naked body. Bulky deltoids, wide chest with round shaped pectorals covered
with curly raven hair disrupted by two erected, big brown nipples, his
abdominals dancing slowly with each breath.
Bruce rose and caressed with shaking hands Clark’s breasts sending shivers in
Superman’s spine and causing his blood to boil from that explorative, shy and
bold at the same time hot touch. The Man of Steel was watching without
breathing Bruce feeling his body which welcomed him and asked for more. When
his Star touched his incredibly soft lips to his pectorals, kissing it was too
much…
The Man of Steel hugged Bruce’s body and laid him gently on his back ‘trapping’
him between his naked arms; he bent his powerful body like a snake without
falling on Bruce and brought his face above Bruce’s.
“Tonight, I’ll worship you…”
He began unwrapping gently, respectfully his cape that stubbornly clung to
Bruce’s body - not that he blamed his cape...but he still envied that piece of
Fabric that maintained more contact with Bruce than him. It felt like
unwrapping his gift from Santa Claus, slowly revealing the younger man’s body.
He didn’t want to be hasty to not raise Bruce’s defences and woke up his
nightmares but still as the red fabric uncovered his statue-like chest his Star
shivered and he knew that it wasn’t from cold. The flames danced behind the
round glass of the heater and along with heating the greenhouse cast a warm,
mystic hue on Bruce’s porcelain flesh making him look like a gorgeous being
from old fairytales.
Clark hurried to touch Bruce’s cheek with his lips reminding him that he was
safe and no monster could harm him; the younger man’s forehead was already
sweaty a battle raging again. And then Bruce closed his eyes for a split second
and stared again in Clark’s caring eyes; he nodded and Clark needed nothing
more. He noticed the pouch hanging from Bruce’s neck.
“It’s a charm” he answered Clark’s gaze.
Clark took the pouch off his Star’s neck.
“I’ll be your charm…”
Bruce sighed as Clark’s lips slowly, adoringly, carefully trailed his breasts,
his tongue teasing slightly his nipples that hesitantly hardened in Clark’s
mouth. He moaned as the Man of Steel sucked gently and his hands that could
pulverize granite caressed tenderly his ripped ribs; and Bruce shaking sought
support wrapping his hands around Superman’s broad back.
Feeling Bruce’s breasts bulge in arousal, Superman slithered his lips gently
from the perimeter of his breasts to trace his abdominals, sucking at the spots
he knew the human body reacted the most. Upon meeting the old stab wound, he
let his mouth lick and suck the big scar making Bruce grunt almost
imperceptibly arching his torso to give Clark better access; Clark caressed
affectionately Bruce’s naked back relishing the strong bound muscles that
formed his lean and imposing back and continued lower till the lowest abdominal
before the slope to Bruce’s pubis that was still covered by red; a red that now
made him feel like a bull.
He laid Bruce tenderly on his back and finally permitted his tongue to taste
his Star’s underbelly savoring the flood of stimuli in his mouth and Bruce’s
sighs; he could sense the human’s arousal, his groin jerking but he needed to
be sure that everything was finely working after his ‘operation’. As much as he
craved - his hardened length pushed to be freed - and dreamed that, he was also
scared as he hesitantly took the fabric off Bruce’s hips; his eyes widened in
appreciation and his groin began burning. He had to restrain his hands at the
last moment before groping that delicious part of flesh waiting to be taken;
his Star’s rasps weren’t from arousal and he convulsed raising his body.
Bruce’s eyes searched for Clark’s realizing what he was about to do.
“You don’t have to do this…” he rasped in haste his mind filling with images of
Chill forcing him to take him in his mouth; for him this was an act of
humiliation cruel people inflicted on you.
Clark understood his thoughts. He caressed his Star’s wet locks ending up to
his cheeks never leaving his sapphire-emerald orbs.
“I don’t have but I want to...If you want…”
Bruce gulped and Clark’s thumb brushed his throat; Bruce hated that he was
acting so fearfully worse than a teen. Clark waited for his answer ready to
accept his refusal. He inhaled and opened his lips.
“Yes….” he whispered and Clark engaged his lips in a deep kiss before cupping
his head and placing him down.
Bruce closed his eyes and tried to control his breath and heartbeat though his
state of arousal made it difficult. But then he felt something that blew away
all his efforts and made him huff: Clark’s super dexter fingers began brushing
feathery his balls just a breath before his hot lips trace his groin’s tender
flesh; his breath was already halted as an unbelievably hot and soft tongue
felt his length torturously slowly sending a rush of blood to his dead as he
thought member; it was a million of different pleasant senses which exploded as
Clark’s lips trailed his throbbing length with soft kisses that progressively
became hungrier ending up to swallow the edge massaging gently.
Bruce moaned and huffed surprised and his torso arched on its own volition; he
pressed his lips as Clark’s perfect ministrations slowly engulfed his entire
length that sent him overwhelming, first experienced senses. He clutched the
blanket though his torso was elevated.
“Clark…” he uttered his surprise when he felt his penis jolting in the safe
cavity of Superman’s mouth.
Clark smiled relieved and happy. He continued sucking the delicious flesh, his
penis inside his suit mimicking Bruce’s. And then Bruce’s heartbeat became
frantic and his breath asthmatic.
“Clark, I think I’m gonna…” he managed to mumble the warning because he
remembered Chill’s bitter, hot, disgusting liquid in his mouth and throat.
But Clark wanted to taste every bit of Bruce; to have him in his body, in his
cells. He watched mesmerised as the human’s glistening torso stretched in a
majestic arch, his neck bent throwing his head back his brunette sweaty locks
glued in his face. His Star made a sound between moan and sob and hot, sweet
liquid filled Clark’s mouth and mind.
Bruce’s head remained slightly suspended; the young man awed from the feelings,
the elation and the disbelief that this really happened. Clark cupped the back
of Bruce’s head and brought their bodies to glue, savoring the seductive way
his Star’s body trembled in the orgasm’s aftermath making the human’s aroma
richer and the feeling of his red hot sweaty flesh paralyzing. His lips
massaged his Star’s jaw and mouth, meeting his sparkling eyes.
“I told you you weren’t crippled…” Clark let his voice manifest his feeling of
triumph.
But Bruce felt Superman’s trapped demanding erection.
“You need to…” he whispered blushing.
Clark shook his head.
“There’s no need… I won’t penetrate you...I can manage...I won’t hurt you.”
“You would never hurt me” he answered stilling his eyes in Clark’s fueling his
passion.
Clark’s traitor of a penis agreed loudly.
“We don’t have any…” he hesitated to utter the word ‘lube’ to Bruce.
“They never used any lube” Clark’s face darkened considering a nine year old
child being raped by a fully grown adult without any preparation or lube. “Ra’s
eased me the first times but soon stopped bothering. I can handle it.”
Bruce wanted to offer Clark what he just offered him. He wanted to complete it.
But Clark was adamant.
“I won’t cause any pain to you…”
And then Bruce rested his head on Clark’s crook of the neck and noticed a pot
with aloe vera that miraculously remained in fairly good shape.
“You can use that…” he whispered sensually to Clark’s ear pointing with his
eyes there.
It flashed to Clark: breaking the leaves of that plant a soft gel dripped. That
was a nice solution his length pointed eagerly and Superman holding Bruce in
his chest, because he just didn’t stand even a second of separation, broke in
full speed many leaves and returned them to the blanket.
Bruce laid his body on the blanket watching Superman; it was an odd and rare
sight seeing the mighty Man of Steel fumbling with his own suit too nervous and
blushed. Bruce smiled and Clark taking in his expression chuckled scratching
his hair.
When he managed to free his body from the alien fabric Clark felt dread seeing
his erection; damn! It was too big…he was going to cause pain to Bruce. But the
younger man nodded to him without a trace of fear in his dilated eyes; but
Clark could sense Bruce’s anal channel clench unconsciously: so many years of
rapes couldn’t be easily forgotten…
He had to prepare his Star if he was to show him that making love was something
beautiful, worth of repeating and not cause him to withdraw. Oh! Bruce’s thighs
were so tight and so harmonical shaped with lean, strong muscles that radiated
warmth from the sweat that glistened. He didn’t want to grab those thighs and
just hastily spread Bruce so he massaged the tauty flesh from the knees to the
hips and Bruce grunted only to moan, groan and breathe shallow when Clark began
nibbling the inside of his thighs that began trembling uncontrollably.
Only then Clark opened gently his legs revealing his opening. Rao! He wanted to
surge inside and claim Bruce forever but the youth’s sharp intake of air, as if
he read his thoughts stopped him; he rubbed soothing and arousing circles to
Bruce’s underbelly and penis causing him to close his eyes and sigh.
Clark covered his index finger with aloe and slowly caressed the perimeter of
Bruce’s anus bringing his finger in gradually only when felt the muscle
trembling ready. The younger man tensed for a few seconds and then as the
finger massaged his inner muscle relaxed, fixing his eyes on Clark’s sweaty
face framed by his wild locks.
When Clark felt Bruce ready added a second finger carefully teasing the muscle
into relaxing it more and then he tinkled Bruce’s prostate making Bruce gasp
and shake. Clark pressed his lips, his raspiration was uncontrolled: this
gorgeous body was so much neglected of pleasant stimulation like a
Strativarious violin played for the first time after a hundred years of violent
scratches.
Bruce both wanted Clark to continue and dreaded it, something cletching his
insides painfully urging him to escape. His heart beat fast from arousal, want
and urge to flee; he saw Clark frowning and leaning above him to kiss his lips
lovingly.
“Do you want me to stop?” he breathed huskily searching Bruce’s irises but his
Star’s gaze became determined.
“Proceed” he said calmly.
Clark applied much aloe to his ready to explode member, applied with massaging
motions aloe to Bruce’s insides and then held gently his buttocks to spread him
a bit more. Those buttocks were hell, more than he had dreamt, taut and soft
making his hands shudder and his spine jolt violently into thrusting his penis
inside Bruce; he hardly stopped his length from pushing too deep and too harsh
hearing Bruce’s heartbeat flaring.
Bruce closed his eyes and tried to breathe calmly though Clark’s length filling
him was his entire world. As Clark began thrusting incredibly gently but
stimulating at the same time, electric currents ran his spine making him
convulse; his body was waking, enjoying what for years was meant to cause him
shame and excruciating pain. He wrapped his legs around Clark’s firm glutial
muscles doing shyly the rubbing dance that excited so much Tony. It was
exciting to know that this powerful being was nestled between his legs holding
back his own satisfaction to not hurt him and he wanted to show his gratitude
for that.
Clark moaned surprised but surely grateful for that gift that made his penis go
frantic; he began grunting and estamblished a stable pace careful to not hit
the newly fixed part of Bruce’s spine, stopping his body from succumbing to the
need of using its full energy.
“Dance on my dick...”
Falcone’s humid breath ordered between the wet kisses he was delivering to his
chest.
The Grey Wolf’s hands snatched his shoulder blades and without stopping his
fairy dance, forced his torso to make an arch so his greedy mouth could devor
his stretched covered with flavoring hot sweat flesh.
“How do ya feel being fucked by yar parents’ murderer? Giving him heavenly
pleasure, thanking him for murdering them, gifting him the body of the last
Wayne?” his voice was sarcastic, deep taunting, soaked in his trembling flesh.
 Bruce clenched his jaw and focused on the reassurance that Clark’s crystal
clear blue eyes offered as every thrust brought the hero’s hot body to rub with
his.
“You can’t imagine how beautiful you are, Star…” Superman rasped.
He nibbled Bruce’s jaw line and breasts as the younger man’s head lolled
backwards overwhelmed by the hotness in his anus that spurt to his groin to
burn his spine with violent jerks that Superman’s body absorbed. And then Clark
felt the sweat on Bruce’s body freezing and his breath halting; the sapphire-
emerald orbs were drenched in dread. Clark knew that his Star returned to his
horrific past to one of these sessions of brutal rapes.
“I couldna sleep all night thinkin’ dat asshole havin’ his dick inside ya an’
ya moaning to him for more” Chill’s creepy voice whispered in his ear.
The gentle flesh inside him became brutal, punishing, causing pain.
 “Was he better than me?” Chill yelled madly “maybe he made yar soft dick
harden at last?”
Bruce motioned his head in negation to appease him, pressing desperately his
eyes.
The Vulture sneered.
“I knew that yar whorish asshole doesn’t appreciate delicate dicks like his; a
filthy slut like ya is satisfied only by rough treatment of trumps like me...”
The too familiar yet still unbearable pain flooding his body as the foreign
object stuffed him to his limits.
 “Yar mine, little Prince; I claimed ya first, never forget that!” Chill’s
crooked teeth were gritted, his voice the same nightmarish voice that haunted
his days and nights and terrified him when a crippled child.
Clark cupped Bruce’s face as their bodies were united and kissed him.
“Look at me, Star; it’s me, only me, I won’t let anyone harm you. You’re safe…”
he whispered in the tormented man’s ear and Bruce shook violently on his body
till his eyes refocused on Clark’s.
Bruce began breathing again clinging desperately on Clark’s shoulders, his head
resting on the crook of his neck like a child, his soft exhales causing goose
bumps to the Man of Steel who continued thrusting caressing Bruce’s pelvis and
back to make him relax his muscle that clenched now arched from the friction.
Bruce felt again his crippled penis growing hard and jolting, a hot wave
rushing to explode; he tightened his grip on Clark’s shoulders because this
still scared him as much as it filled him with elation. And then he heard a
scream of outrage from the guts of earth mixed with a deafening thunder and he
knew it was his demon. He hid more his head in Clark’s body: Bagdana couldn’t
touch him there.
Clark came when Bruce did gaping at the most beautiful view of the world:
Bruce’s orgasm. He stayed inside his beloved body savoring Bruce’s writhing
after the orgasm and his rasps and groans and then purrs; he kissed his Star’s
drenched locks. How could he thank him enough for that present?
They stayed like this for much time till Clark felt Bruce’s breath feathery
light and his heartbeat peaceful in sleep. He pulled himself begrudgingly from
Bruce’s body holding the younger man. Then he leaned him gently back on the
blanket but Bruce half asllep raised his silken eyelids a bit.
“You want me to clean you?” he mumbled and Clark kissed Bruce’s lips.
 “No, Bruce; sleep…” he caressed the younger man’s cheek and Bruce kissed his
palm before letting his eyelids cover his sparkling eyes and surrender to sweet
sleep.
Clark bit his own lips thinking what this ‘cleaning’ meant….Bruce’s teeth had
marks of erosion from bodily fluids and his mouth cavity and throat had
injuries caused by forced oral penetration; years of that.
He watched hypnotized as sleep brushed his Star’s face softening more his
features. And then he began cleaning Bruce’s body with his tongue gently,
tenderly, careful to not disturb his much needed rest. Bruce’s magical taste
and then his own seed flavored by this unique man’s sweat were incredible. He
slithered his tongue in every corner, every inch not leaving one drop trying to
sooth his hunger and thurst, to take Bruce inside his body, as the dry soil
absorbed the cool rain… He finished the job drying Bruce’s body blowing gently
warm air.
“I love you, Star…” he murmured over Bruce’s eyelids and a faint smile brushed
his Star’s face.
He was enjoying Bruce’s naked body when the younger man turned on his side,
covering with his thigh his genitals and hugging his chest unconsciously –
Clark was sure that little Bruce slept that way trying to warm up in his frozen
cell.
And then Superman’s eyes widened awed as silver light caressed Bruce’s naked
body; he yanked his head to the glass roof to see the moon shining having
escaped the clouds. Clark’s fingers ran Bruce’s body line from his shoulder to
the hips, to his thighs to the toes, the void of the chopped big toe hurting
him…
His Star’s body shivered; the fire in the heater was dying so he reluctantly -
because he had to leave that body - stood and threw more logs inside. He
hurried back and spooned Bruce whose body immediately relaxed warm and safe in
Clark’s familiar hugging and Clark nuzzled the porcelain cheek going slowly to
the neck and shoulder; it was like touching the silver moon itself and his
penis began twitching being in contact with Bruce’s naked buttocks yet he
berated himself because he took too much from this man tonight, more than he
ever hoped and now he only cared for Bruce’s rest.
And Gotham was quiet tonight as if wanting to grant her protector a night of
much needed bliss and rest.
He wrapped his hands around Bruce’s chest and closed his eyes letting the
thrill, the happiness, the relief, the sense of completion fill his body that
the more he was close to Bruce the more felt like charging, his powers greater
than ever.
“I won’t let anyone harm you again…” he breathed in Bruce’s ear.
 
 
 
***** Chapter 60 *****
The sky’s dark blue color had begun to lighten, the morning star shining on the
moon’s side. The dawn was there.
Clark took reluctantly his eyes from Bruce’s face to gaze at the sky: the
clouds had dispersed and the sky was clear foretelling a beautiful day. It was
as if the nature reflected his elated heart.
He didn’t sleep at all; he didn’t need sleep but mostly he didn’t want to miss
a second from Bruce’s sleep. So he cuddled the man giving him the sense of
security to not slip into nightmares and watched unable to get enough of that
face, of that naked body warm from his hugging, of that perfume. From these
imperceptible breaths of peaceful sleep that Clark unconsciously counted along
with the strong heartbeats.
Some times he couldn’t restrain himself and was caressing Bruce’s cheek and
temple with his lips; so softly that no ordinary man would have sensed it but
Bruce did and quivered softly in his arms without leaving his dreams because
obviously he wasn’t feeling threatened.
Many times during that night the Man of Sleep wished he could follow Bruce in
his dreams…
Suddenly, Clark caught the signals Bruce’s stomach sent to his brain and smiled
fondly. His Star was hungry and he wanted to have ready a breakfast for him
when he woke.
He distanced himself carefully to not disturb Bruce’s sleep and felt horribly
leaving that body; Bruce stirred and moaned protesting. Without his body’s
superhuman heat, Bruce would be cold even though the heater still had some
trembling flames. So he tucked meticulously Bruce with his cape and then with
the blanket. His eyes fell on the pouch that lay on the floor, the charm, and
then looked at Bruce. With him gone his Star would need something to protect
him temporarily though he didn’t know from whom or what. He brought the pouch
close to Bruce; he could scan the fabric to see what it contained but he
controlled his curiosity: maybe Bruce would trust him with that too.
He spun to wear the Clark Kent attire, went out of the greenhouse and took off
to Ms. Rose’s bakery in Metropolis; this was the time of the day the old lady
removed her first delicacies from the oven. A sweet pain flooded him as the
greenhouse slowly became smaller: he just left Bruce and he already missed him…
It took him no more than ten minutes to fly to Metropolis, buy the delicacies
and return. Upon entering the greenhouse, his Eden, his gaze immediately found
Bruce still fast asleep. He smiled affectionately: his Star was exhausted from
eighteen years of hardship and constant battles but until that night he
couldn’t sleep properly...Well...If Clark was the ‘drug’ Bruce needed to sleep,
he’d happily agree to be taken every night…
He placed the paper bag on the bench and was ready to get rid of his clothes to
spoon Bruce when on the first pale light of the dawn he discerned a shadow. He
immediately went on aggressive stance, eager to protect his sleeping angel but
then his supersenses told him that it was safe.
However he hastened to go outside and meet the ‘intruder’ because he wanted to
spare Bruce more time of quality sleep.
Selina dressed in form fitting jeans and a plain T-shirt confronted him with
her hands clenching her hips and her eyes glistening, narrowed to slits as a
cat ready to fight for her kittens. Clark raised his hands to appease her.
“He is alright” he reassured her but she tilted her head on the side and
determined moved to enter the greenhouse.
“I don’t believe you, alien freak!” her eyes became wilder when Clark blocked
the entrance. “You snatched and brought him here! What have you done to him?”
her face distorted in a grimace of disgust.
She punched Superman in the chest gritting her teeth and hissing.
“You pervert! Monster! He trusted you…”
Clark shook his head calmly, because her words didn’t insult him: in her place
he’d probably have said the same. Or worse.
“Calm down, Selina; he is sleeping…” she frowned and stopped punching him, her
eyes demanding daggers. “Six hours and fifty five minutes of continuous,
qualitative sleep” he added with emphasis and saw her eyes widening.
She yanked her head.
“You were counting the minutes?” she meant to tease him but her voice came out
too serious.
Clark sighed.
“And the seconds…” he admitted. “The only reason I stand between you and the
door is because I want him to sleep a bit more.”
Selina could discern the honest concern in his voice and something deeper...She
nodded.
“What happened?” she asked a bit softer because a suspicion crossed her mind
and she couldn’t decide if she should be happy or ready to kill. “How you ended
up here?”
Clark was tempted to tell everything to her yet he didn’t want to betray the
trust Bruce showed to him.
“I think you’d better ask Bruce.”
Selina scrutinized the hero noting that he didn’t wear his trademark red cape
and catching Bruce’s familiar scent on him. Her eyes sparkled for an instant
and Clark worried that she might burst inside to see her friend. However she
was satisfied from his answer that respected Bruce’s privacy even if it was
from her.
She nodded.
“Fine; I’ll give you the benefit of doubt...But if you forced him...in
anything…” her eyes narrowed dangerously again “I’ll find kryptonite and I’ll
cut you in pieces!”
Clark more than threatened felt emparrassed, like a teen caught in his room
with his secret lover. He blushed: why he couldn’t act like Bruce?
“I didn’t” he shook his head choosing again to be honest. “But if I caused him
any harm or discomfort even unwillingly you won’t have to find Kryptonite: I’ll
do it myself…” his voice was calm and steady but his eyes shone determined.
Selina pouted her lips, cast him another scrutinizing look and turned on her
heels.
“I’ll be in the Manor to cool down Tony and Alfred…”
Clark watched the girl leaving and rubbed his cheeks, his face still red for
being busted. Not that he was ashamed for what he did - on the contrary! - yet
he knew how Bruce’s friends felt about him and he didn’t blame them but exactly
for this maybe it would have been better if Bruce told them...or not...The
thought that Bruce might regret the previous night pierced Clark’s heart. And
shit! He forgot to tell Selina to not say anything.
He sighed. There was no way Bruce’s best friend would reveal something so
important.
He returned in the warmth of the greenhouse to find Bruce sitting on the
blanket holding the cape on his body: if that night was to be the only, at
least his cape would carry Bruce’s intoxicating aroma forever. He shuddered on
the thought of never touching again Bruce’s flesh, being inside his warm, soft
body… he noticed that he put again the pouch around his neck.
Clark took the bag and sat beside Bruce trying to read the younger man’s mood.
Bruce’s hair was messy, falling to his face making him so...edible and his eyes
after the last night’s heat had returned to the usual soft spark. Although he
wanted, he didn’t claim Bruce’s lips afraid that maybe the hours of sleep had
changed something.
But Bruce did the most unexpected and awesome thing: pecked him on the cheek
determined and shy at the same time. Clark needed just that to wrap his arm
around Bruce’s waist, bring him closer and kiss him fervently on the lips
diving in the sensation and sucking every bit of that flesh fearing that it was
the last time.
Bruce deepened the kiss relishing the sense of energy and power hidden
underneath Clark’s effort to not hurt him. And Bruce found himself wanting to
feel all this force, to dance with it, battle with it, tasting his limits but
Clark would never allow that. He caressed Clark’s cheek and watched his closed
in delight eyes till Clark opened them and reluctantly removed his lips to let
Bruce breathe.
The Man of Steel stared at the human who gifted him such happiness; he was
grateful to Bruce, to life that in a strange twist brought him to meet his
Star.
Bruce couldn’t stand so much gratitude in those beautiful eyes: he hadn’t done
anything to deserve that; if someone was to be grateful it was him. So he
turned his eyes to the paper bag to ease the tension.
“They woke me up; my stomach began growling.”
Clark scratched his nape.
“I thought you’ll be starving and I brought something to eat...I don’t know if
Alfred would ever approve it for breakfast…”
Bruce eagerly as a child opened the deliciously smelling bag and his eyes
bulged.
“DONUTS?!”
Clark couldn’t expect such enthusiasm for some humble donuts.  
“Well, there’s a bakery in Metropolis that makes the freshest and most
delicious donuts in the States: I bought them right when Ms. Rose took them out
of the oven.”
But Bruce had already grabbed one and began gulping greedily. Clark was smiling
but also felt a pang in his guts once again thinking of the countless simple
things Bruce was forbidden as a child; how starved he was all these years.
Bruce moaned in delight and Clark brushed with his lips a smudge of strawberry
jum that dripped in Bruce’s chin.
“Don’t tell me Ms. Rose sells donuts to Superman?” Bruce mumbled chewing.
“Imagine the huge advertisement for her!”
“I didn’t think of that…” Clark answered chuckling. “It would have given me
free donuts for life...But poor Mr. Kent is her customer! There’s milk too.”
Bruce without stopping chewing searched the bag and took two cartons of milk.
“Chocolate milk!”
Clark felt sorry for that but he took the carton of chocolate milk from his
hands.
“No chocolate milk for you, I’m sorry, Star” Bruce pouted and was so cute that
he was ready to hand him back the milk! “You need the calcium and chocolate
blocks the absorption.” he gave the younger man the other carton.
“Okay...Alfred!” Bruce spat and opened the white milk twisting his mouth. He
took a sip and bit another mouthful of donut.
Clark just goggled mesmerized.
“You really missed donuts, huh?”
Bruce halted his greed seeing that Clark wasn’t eating.
“You won’t eat?”
Clark smiled.
“I’m getting my fill…” he answered the meaning clear.
Bruce held the donut in his hand looking at it absentminded.
“Actually” he began hesitantly “Mr. Petrou was bringing me donuts for some
time...Secretly, cautiously.”
Clark nodded; he knew the man but not many details.
“Harvey’s father...He must be a very good man despite being years in Falcone’s
work.”
“He is; he knew I was starving and he would bring me every day food his wife
cooked and” he showed the donuts “donuts or chocolate...He didn’t have much
money but he was giving me whatever he could under the fear of Falcone or Chill
finding out. And for me was the greatest gift...I mean, a stranger, a thug
showing interest and helping me risking his life: a small ray of light, of hope
reminding that darkness can be defeated.” Bruce sighed and rubbed his forehead.
“We had to stop when Chill realized that I gained some weight.”
Clark’s face became grim; that disgusting monster raped the poor boy daily so
he’d easily notice every change. Bruce understood what Clark thought and just
nodded.
“He tried to make me betray the one who fed me” he didn’t say how for not
upsetting Clark. “I didn’t but me and Mr. Petrou knew that the food had to stop
because Chill since then always watched me.”
Clark shook his head and Bruce began eating again but without the previous
enthusiasm.
“And you gave him back his lost son and a new beginning.”
Bruce looked at him.
“He earned both; he deserves that” he drank some milk and Clark watched
enviously the liquid’s course in Bruce’s throat. “Selina was here, right?”
Clark jerked startled, absorbed in following that milk in Bruce’s body. He
nodded.
“I thought you were sleeping.”
“I can tell her presence even from a distance of space or time; I know her
scent, her aura. And the same goes for her. She can find me as today.”
“You are like siblings…”
Bruce shook his head.
“More…” he said reminiscendly, images from behind the huge garbage bin crossing
his mind. “Selina was bringing me food, as well; every night. I was very
lucky…”
Clark’s heart warmed thinking of a little poor girl bringing food to a battered
boy. How he wished he had saved Bruce then and the two kids had enjoyed a
carefree childhood…
Bruce read his expression and cleared his throat.
“I guess she figured out…” he said nonchalant.
Clark licked his lips uncomfortable trying to read Bruce’s face.
“You wanted to keep it a secret…I didn’t say anything but still...” he shook
his head running his hand through his hair. “Ugh! I wish I had the quarter of
your acting skills…I’m sorry.”
Bruce smiled and cupped Clark’s cheek, the smell of fresh donut flavored with
Bruce’s skin’s perfume dazed him.
“If this is what troubles you” the younger man locked his determined eyes with
Clark’s “no, I didn’t regret last night.”
Clark’s face loosened immediately and kissed Bruce’s palm which was covered
with powdered sugar.
“Thank you, Bruce.”
He shrugged.
“For what?”
“Last night.”
Bruce chuckled.
“I literally didn’t do anything; you did it all.”
Clark brushed Bruce’s hair.
“You trusted me” he said solemnly. “You let me touch you even though I had
attacked you. Even now I don’t feel worthy of your trust or your gift… Of your
body on mine…”
But Bruce interrupted him claiming passionately his lips, answering that way to
Clark’s guilt. And Clark melted letting Bruce do as he wanted with his lips, he
just savoring the sensations.
When Bruce freed his mouth Clark sighed.
“If you don’t start eating, there won’t be anything left for you…” Bruce warned
taking another donut filled with vanilla cream and covered with white
chocolate; he moaned from delight and Clark felt tears from glee.
“I brought them for you…Alfred would be very happy seeing you eating like this;
I have the impression that you don’t eat as you should.”
Bruce stared at him.
“That’s true and it’s really unfair because Alfred’s cooking is suberb but most
times I just don’t have the appetite to eat” he chewed and swallowed his food.
“Actually, I should thank you: you took care of my spine, you were patient with
me and for the first time I slept so many hours without nightmares.”
Clark blushed.
“It was my pleasure, all of it; and if you want I can daily be your painkilling
method…” he grinned with his eyes sparkling. “Are you happy?” Clark’s eyes
flickered between hope and fear.
Bruce lowered his eyes and Clark’s breath was caught in his chest.
“It’s difficult for me to say: what happiness is …” he chuckled. “After so many
years I forgot how it is...Yet I think that what I’m feeling now...is
happiness… I feel…free, like flying” he locked eyes with Clark who was
paralysed and turned his head to let him breathe.
He took another donut and smiled to the Man of Steel.
“If you don’t start eating, you’re going to starve…”
But Clark grinned elated.
“Oh! I’m not going to be hungry ever again…” I’m filled with gorgeous images -
images of you…”Bruce?”
The younger man grunted through a mouthful of delicacy.
“How is your pelvis?” he was afraid that something had gone wrong last night
and although he didn’t detect any signal of pain, maybe Bruce was hiding it.
“Fine; I have no pain…” he turned a cute shade of pink. “Even
inside...You...you were perfect...really. I never imagined that this could be
so painless, so...pleasant.”
Clark’s heart warmed and along his entire body; for the first time in his life
he felt so proud of himself. Bruce saw everything in Clark and gave him
discretion sipping his milk. And then Clark wrapped his arm around Bruce’s
shoulders and brought him to glue in his chest. Bruce’s eyes  filled with trust
found Clark’s adoring ones and it was what Clark needed to claim again his
Star’s lips.
The human’s hands wrapped around Clark’s neck massaging softly, slowly and
sensually. The cape slipped from his shoulders and revealed his torso but he
didn’t care. Yet Clark caught a glimpse of those disturbing bruises on Bruce’s
wrists and his guts clenched with anger for the one who caused them and dread
for the dangerous aura he sensed emanating from the marks.
When Bruce stopped his passionate kiss sighing because he needed some oxygen,
Clark’s thumbs brushed the bruises and Bruce looked startled; he hoped that he
wouldn’t notice them but Clark had super senses and could understand that they
weren’t his - actually, he was so tender and carefull that there was no bruise
on his body to prove that Bruce made love with the strongest being on earth.
“It would be daring of me asking who did these?” he was very cautious because
Bruce was a secretive person.
Bruce crossed his arms.
“A demon” he huffed, the honesty of last night lingering.
Clark’s eyes bulged; of course, he had felt that weird power and aura in the
forest bouncing off him but hearing that a demon bruised his Star was
unbelievable in its horror.
“What...what he wants from you?” he asked downhearted not because he was afraid
of demons - he had fought many of them in the past - but because that demon was
threatening his Bruce.
“He believes that I’m the descendant of his dead mate” a dull headache came to
settle over his eyes.
Clark pressed his lips and nodded.
“And he wants to replace his lost mate with you!” anger trembled in his voice
as he read between the lines. “And he tried to rape you!”
Bruce was poised.
“He has done it already” he replied never letting Clark’s eyes from his, the
crystal blue shattering from thunders. “Ra’s offered me to him when he first
took me from Falcone” it was so mundane for him to say those things but saw
Clark darkening and lowered his eyes; he didn’t want to tell him the reason Al
Ghul did that.
But Clark cupped gently his jaw and lifted his head to lock their eyes.
“What Al Ghul wanted from the demon?” he knew how these things worked: evil
people sacrificed other people to demons to get something; something that Bruce
didn’t want to tell and he felt that it had to do with him.
“The Kryptonite that would make your death certain…”
Clark closed his eyes in despair.
“If the demon got satisfied would give him what he wanted….And Bagdana – the
demon - created the kind of Kryptonite that would kill you” his licked his lips
and cleared his throat. “The Kryptonite with the black veins” he blinked “my
blood.”
“Your blood?” Clark’s voice lost many octaves and came out as a growl.
Bruce nodded.
“He drank my blood and drenched deposits of simple Kryptonite with it to create
the special kind…I know it sounds crazy but he showed me.”
Clark wanted to scream from ire and deep pain: Bruce was given to a demon
because of him! To be used to create the weapon that would kill him. He was the
reason for another horror that child experienced. He hugged Bruce failing to
restrain his tears but his Star was so collected, so brave…
“I’m sorry, Bruce they tortured you because of me…” he brushed Bruce’s hair.
“It’s okay, Clark...I just...I just” he gulped “it’s over now…”
Clark cupped Bruce’s face and looked at him admiring what he was seeing: a
beautiful young man braver than every hero he ever met. He felt actually very
weak before Bruce’s strength and courage. He caressed Bruce’s lips with his
thumb, submerging in the sapphire seas of his eyes.
“How Ra’s was sure that Bagdana would be satisfied?”
Bruce sighed; he didn’t want to repeat that story knowing how all these shook
Clark but finally recounted to him the story of Bagdana and Lilith, the
birthmark Ra’s thought was Lilith’s mark and Ra’s’  encounters with his mother.
Clark ruffled his hair and stood, yanking his head upwards; he felt the urge to
grab Bruce and take him to the Fortress, safe from humans and demons and gods…
Bruce followed him holding the cape on his body. Clark felt his calm strength
and composure: no, snatching Bruce this way would make him no better than all
of them. And Bruce didn’t deserve to be treated like a priceless but inanimate
object.
“Bagdana is sure you’re his mate’s descendant - the one with the mark - and he
attacked you to…” it was difficult even to utter it “to copulate with you and
take you with him forever, in his realm. Rao! Why it has to be you? Why every
scum wants to claim you?” he turned to face Bruce and his Star stared him with
narrowed eyes.
“Clark, if that demon thing bothers you…”
Clark’s eyes snapped; no, he didn’t mean that…Shit! He had created such
thoughts, such doubts to his Star...He made Bruce think that he was annoyed by
all these and there was a chance he’ll turn his back on him. Well, he was
annoyed, he was mad but not with Bruce.
He held the younger man’s upper arms and there was relief deep in Bruce’s eyes
under the upper level of bravery.
“I’m angry with all of them; I want to punish them for what they did to you,
for what they still do... I want to keep them away from you. Nobody and nothing
will separate us...if of course that is what you want.”
Bruce pressed his lips and nodded smiling and Clark didn’t need something else
yet his Star chose to affirm it with a peck on the lips that Clark deepened.
“This protects you from Bagdana?” he took gently the pouch and Bruce opened it
to reveal the diamond Clark knew so well. “The Black Butterfly?” he huffed.
“The woman who gave it to my mother said that it was for my protection. And it
works.”
Clark felt overwhelmed from the bulk of information; thankfully, as an
investigating reporter he was used to startling information.
“So that woman knew about you and the danger from the demon…maybe she knows
more that can help us” he loved the way that ‘us’ sounded, like they were an
entity.
“Cassandra was reluctant to say anything; maybe I’ll try again but for now
there are more urgent matters” he rubbed his temple and Clark cupped his hand.
“It pains…”
Bruce smiled.
“Very mildly: the good sleep helped a lot but a concussion needs time.”
Clark took Bruce’s hand and kissed the aching temple.
“Gotham was very quiet last night…” he kissed Bruce’s palm.
“The big still before the storm…” Bruce shook his head thoughtful and Clark
wished he could turn the time back some hours and stack the clock there
forever.
“My sources said that the big three where killed by a new powerful gang with
guns never seen before” Bruce nodded and Clark arched his eyebrows. “Let me in
on everything you’re planning, Bruce” he couldn’t kick the pleading from his
voice, especially as the cruel reality gradually took over his Star.
Bruce pierced him dead serious in the eyes.
“I will definitely need you in what comes but give me some hours and I’ll tell
you everything.”
He placed his hands on Clark’s shoulders kissing softly his jaw line before
nibbling his lower lip. Clark’s groin was restless all this time but he knew
that he shouldn’t burden too much Bruce’s newly healed spine. Bruce grinned
uncomfortably, too used to the signals of male bodies.
“I wish we could spend the whole day in our greenhouse…”
Our greenhouse… Clark loved the sound of it. Surely this deserted greenhouse
was his paradise and he felt some melancholy because they had to eventually
leave the place; the heaven that separated them from that hard world for a few,
extremely happy, hours.
“But I must return to the Manor and take care of things before their next
move.”
Of course his Star always put people’s lives above his own: and this was one of
the reasons he loved him so much although now it kept them apart.
“It won’t be for much” Bruce answered reading Clark’s sadness and the Man of
Steel chuckled.
“I’m so easy for you to read!” he scratched his head blushing. “Promise me
we’ll come back to our greenhouseafter all these…” he said solemnly.
Bruce caressed his cheek and nodded closing his eyes.
“On first chance.”
Clark’s lips formed a tight smile and Bruce gave him a deep kiss on the crook
of his neck.
“I’ll take you to the Manor” Clark said controlling his emotions. “The soil is
drenched and you don’t have any shoes. Also, you run a little fever so Alfred
should give you some antipyretics.”
Bruce laughed.
“Alfred will be very happy to have such an ally…yet that means more…trouble for
me.”
“You bet…” he said mock warningly and wished that indeed Alfred would be
content hearing that Clark and Bruce…Oh, Rao! He had no doubt that Alfred might
be the only one to like what happened. Yet he wouldn’t let the reactions of
others ruin what he shared with Bruce.
Clark watched ecstatic Bruce put on his wrinkled, messy clothes from last
night, cringing on thinking Alfred’s shock on the sight. He grinned with
Bruce’s shyness to not take his underwear from the spot he had hidden it behind
a pot. A growing, erosive melancholy filled him as the younger man finished
fast dressing; he couldn’t help but shudder on the flashing thought that maybe
this was the only time he’d get the rare gift to see Bruce’s naked body. He
squashed the thought; no, this wasn’t the end, it was the beginning.
Bruce took affectionately the red cape and gave it to him his eyes sparkling.
Clark hesitated for a moment: his cape looked more beautiful wrapped around
Bruce’s body as if the fabric relished the contact.
“Maybe you should keep the cape…”
Bruce chuckled.
“I don’t think this is an option: imagine the fuss if Superman is seen without
his trademark cape. And...I prefer to wear it the next time with your scent
on…” he grinned and his cheeks took that cute shade of red.
Clark just couldn’t restrain himself on that; surged and took Bruce in his arms
and lifted him from the ground; Bruce gasped from the abrupt movement but Clark
raised him to tower him which was fascinating and Bruce placed his hands on
Clark’s shoulders bringing his lips together initiating a passionate dance.
“I’ll hold you on that promise, Star!”
Bruce nibbled Clark’s lower lip in the way he understood that made him shiver.
“And I wouldn’t want the Man of Steel mad at me…” he said slyly.
Clark captured Bruce’s playful lip in his mouth and caressed it with his
tongue.
“Not. In. The. Least. I’m a mess when depressed.”
“We must leave now…” Bruce said reluctantly though his eyes regained their
usual determination.
Clark didn’t want to yet he had Bruce’s beautiful promise to keep him
comforted. He tightened his embrace to that body he had in his arms all night,
opened the door and shoot a fleeting, affectionate glance at the greenhouse,
the lamp, the heater, the blankets, before taking off for the Manor.
No sooner had he put gently Bruce on his feet than Tony burst out of the Manor
followed by Selina and Pepper descending rapidly the stairs. His eyes were
narrowed to slits and Clark expected to be faced with Ironman at any second.
Yet he saw the billionaire softening seeing Bruce who stared at him calmly.
“Are you alright, little guy?” he asked taking in his messed up clothes and
hair. “What that freak did to you?”
Clark clenched his fists; Stark will always regard him as a hideous rapist just
because of an unfortunate moment that he regretted countless times. But then
Bruce rested his hand on Clark’s shoulder in a simple gesture that manifested
to everyone his trust and...love - Clark hoped so - for the man Stark so much
detested.
And indeed Clark saw Tony’s eyes widening shocked and a bit sad and Clark knew
that his Star would feel bad for his friend’s emotions.
“He didn’t do anything” Bruce said quietly but with his determined, emanating
strength that made his point cross and Clark feel goose bumbs. “In fact he
saved me, in every possible way.”
Clark blushed and didn’t feel the wild gloat for Stark’s disappointment.
Besides now he could see relief instead of disappointment in Stark’s face and
eyes. Clark felt stupid: of course Stark would be happy if his friend wasn’t
abused by a powerful alien - Stark would prefer to be wrong in his estimations.
“Thank you for everything, Superman” Bruce turned to him saying his goodbye.
“I’ll see you soon.”
Clark would have liked a kiss in the lips to keep him alive all day yet he
understood that was too soon and Bruce grinned to him reading his eyes. The
warm glow in Bruce’s eyes and his soft grin was enough for now; he nodded and
raised his fist to the air taking off with the feeling that his heart stayed in
the grounds of the Wayne Manor.
Bruce watched for a couple of seconds Superman’s figure and walked determined
towards his friends at the root of the stair.
“Everything is fine” he assured them again and patted Tony’s upper arm before
ascending to enter the Manor.
Alfred met him in the foyer; he was totally composed if not content but the
fact he didn’t scowl at him for the ruffled clothes was a clear manifestation
of his deep relief and joy.
“Good morning, master Bruce. I took the liberty to ready a hot bath and a new
set of clothes for you; after that your breakfast will be waiting for you.”
Alfred’s discretion was much appreciated though Bruce was sure that his butler
figured out what happened last night and to be honest he felt a bit embarrassed
like a teen facing his parents after his first time.
“Thank you, Alfred for the bath and clothes but breakfast won’t be necessary; a
cup of your delicious coffee would be enough. I already ate.”
Alfred cocked an eyebrow and a flicker of smile grazed his kind face on the
thought of Superman taking care of Bruce’s feeding.
“I’m really glad for this, sir” he replied with his cool but simultaneously
affectionate voice. “And for you being well rested” his intelligent eyes
scrutinized Bruce’s face “and happy…” he added winking. “Now if you’ll excuse
me I have to prepare breakfast for the rest.”
Bruce smiled and nodded, rushing to the main stair for his bedroom. He had to
talk with Tony and Selina but first he needed to concentrate and move on from
the greenhouse though he wanted to ‘stay’ more there secluded from the world
and his nightmares.
He finished his bath glad that Clark’s scent was engraved in his olfactory
memory lingering even if the hot streams of seven jets washed his still
mesmerized body. He put on the T-shirt and the jeans Alfred chose for him and
folded tenderly the battered clothes to treasure them in the cave together with
his parents’ last relics: he just couldn’t stand the thought of them being
among the other common clothes.
He put the pouch with the Black Butterfly around his neck, hid it under his T-
shirt and sighed leaving his bedroom for the kitchen.
He found all of them there in a rather awkward atmosphere. Selina was eating
her breakfast in ease while Tony just sat there gazing at the big window above
the sink, his breakfast untouched. Pepper met him in the arch of the kitchen’s
entrance and gave him a peck on the cheek taking a heavy stone from his chest.
He smiled.
“I wish I could stay more but I must get to the office, Bruce. Have a great
day!And do not let Stark spoil that…” she whispered winking.
He kissed her too and she left, the clinking of her stilettoes echoing behind
her.
Alfred placed a mug of hot, steamy, deliciously smelling coffee in front of him
as soon as he sat on the chair.
“How are your headaches, Master Bruce? Would you need your painkillers?”
Bruce was grateful to Alfred for this attempt on easing the situation. And
indeed Tony looked at Bruce worried while Selina chuckled, understanding
Alfred’s witty trick; the butler winked to her.
“No, Alfred, I won’t need them: the level of pain is very low, almost
unnoticed.”
Tony raised an eyebrow.
“So you’re really fine?” he asked hesitantly.
Bruce sipped carefully his coffee but it was the perfect temperature: not hot
to burn but enough hot to please, like Clark...He hardly avoided being choked
and Selina raised her eyebrows and giggled getting a glare from Bruce.
“Of course. I told you before.”
Tony scratched his head.
“I thought he had put you under a spell or something...That man can do anything
to get what he wants.”
Alfred cleared his throat discreetly.
“If I may, sir; you’re talking about Superman…”
Tony pressed his lips and lolled his head crossing his arms.
“Only a few days ago he attacked Bruce and was ready to rape him! He hit him,
for fuck’s sake!”
The word ‘rape’ always made Bruce grimace.
“He was under the influence of a powerful substance, Tony; you know that. He
regretted his actions.”
Tony huffed in disbelief.
“How easily you forgive those who hurt you…”
Selina saw Bruce rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Superman indeed seemed regretful and… full of concern. And I’m sure that Bruce
is more than capable to read people and decide his actions accordingly.”
Tony jerked his head backwards almost falling from the chair.
“But it’s a rather difficult period for him: he suffered a concussion, enforced
drag use, he drank alcohol, he…”restrained himself from speaking about Bruce’s
move on him and Selina frowned seeing Bruce uncomfortable “he watched me almost
die; he was under shock and that man took advantage of that!”
Bruce tapped his fingers on the shining surface.
“You know, Tony, I’m here” Tony brushed his goattee. “Superman didn’t do
anything without my consent. And...and I feel content.”
“Actually, he slept for 6 hours and 55 minutes continuously!” Selina added
teasing. “And only for achieving that I think we should give Supes another
chance. Not that you” she turned to Bruce “need our approval.”
Tony grimaced under Alfred’s amuzed and disapproving stare. Bruce looked well
rested, unharmed and ...happy; he couldn’t deny that but still he had a knot in
his guts. He didn’t trust that alien and the thought that maybe Bruce ended up
with the alien because of his refusal filled him with guilt.
Bruce could read his best friend’s thoughts and emotions and decided that he
had to erase every doubt from Tony’s mind even if that meant exposing his
secret.
“I had a major lesion in my spine, in the S2-S4 section which couldn’t be
operated and could end up incapacitating me permanently” he saw everyone gaping
at him on the revelation. “Leslie told me that it couldn’t be operated.
Superman mended the injury both in my spine and my prostate; I don’t feel any
pain now.”
Tony looked at him under frowned brows and snorted.
“Leslie should check it ASAP; we don’t know what he did. But you felt grateful
and…”
“Master Anthony…”
Bruce rolled his eyes.
“I can tell the difference, Tony: I have a high level awareness about my body.
And I didn’t do thatfrom gratitude: my body isn’t a means of payment!”
Tony flushed from what his words implied and Bruce’s justified irritation.
“I’m sorry, Bruce; I didn’t mean that. Yet he put you in danger to impress you;
he could have worsened things. He was irresponsible” Tony knew that there was
no reason for him to continue it yet he couldn’t stop himself.
Bruce pressed his lips; he could feel his friend’s bitterness and it was his
fault.
“Superman had worked with doctors in Metropolis General Hospital in a program
that healed complex and untreatable injuries like mine. He wouldn’t have
attempted it otherwise. I understand that you don’t like him and it’s my fault
too…but don’t be unfair to him.”
Tony shook his head pouting.
“I didn’t know about that injury while he knew…”
Selina had had enough; she stood up.
“Stop poisoning his joy, Stark! For once in his life he enjoyed what everyone
enjoys daily: can you imagine how hard he struggled to defeat his demons and
his nightmares?” Tony cringed on the word ‘demons’, suddenly considering the
possibility of that demon attacking Bruce last night and taking forcibly what
Superman took with softness. “Can you for a moment let go of your grudge
against Superman and be happy for Bruce?”
Bruce stood and approached her.
“Please, Selina...I understand Tony’s feelings.”
Selina rolled her eyes but nodded reluctantly.
“I’ve been seeing you always sad and in pain for eighteen years and now that
you glow relaxed and happy I can’t bear even your best buddy trying to destroy
that.”
Tony lowered his eyes and pressed his lips realizing how right Selina was: the
girl had watched Bruce being brutally raped twice and she was delighted her
friend finally found the way to overcome that horror. He felt like a stupid
brat. He stood.
“I’m truly happy for you, little guy” he said locking eyes with Bruce. “I want
the best for you; I just don’t want to see you heartbroken.”
Bruce let his lips form a crook smile.
“This is also a part of life, right?”
“You had too much of it for several lifetimes so there can’t be more pain for
you, buddy.”
Bruce nodded.
“I’m fine now, Tony.”
The older man nodded scratching his head.
“I…I’ll go search for that filth Stane: Avengers are informed too. I want so
much to take him in my hands…”
Bruce pressed his lips and shook his head.
“I’m sure you’ll get him, Tony.”
Tony cast him an affectionate stare and grinned, before leaving the kitchen.
Selina huffed and shook her head clentching her hips.
“He is overprotective, huh? He acts like the big brother who learns that his
sibling did it for the first time…Not that I can’t feel for him.”
Bruce sighed and Selina patted his shoulder while Alfred took the dishes from
the table.
“I want every detail of the great night! And it must be really great for you to
return without underwear!” she said slyly giggling at Bruce’s red cheeks.
“Selina…Alfred is listening…”
“And you think he didn’t notice?” she laughed and Alfred cast an amused glance
at her.
“You’re unbelievable…” Bruce lolled his head backwards.
Seline leaned and kissed him in the cheek, winking.
“You wouldn’t want me any different…”
Bruce closed his eyes and smiled.
“That’s true…You won’t stay?” he asked seeing her moving to the kitchen’s exit
door.
“I bet you have work to do though I suggest you don’t exert yourself because
you might want your strength for the boyscout” she winked. “Don’t think you got
away with the ‘details’ thing” she said warningly. “Have a great day though I
know the hours without your love will be torturous…” she smirked and walked
out.
Bruce shook his head smiling fondly and slumped on the chair. Alfred stopped
washing the dishes and wiped his hands on a towel to place his hand on his
young master’s shoulder. Bruce turned his eyes on the kind man’s face.
“Your friends want the best for you and share your happiness, Master Bruce;
everything will be fine, it’s just something new for you to live to the
fullest.”
The youth grinned.
“You deserve to be happy, sir.”
“Thank you, Alfred and…I’m sorry for the turmoil I caused last night.”
Alfred smirked.
“Your note actually worked for many hours but when you didn’t return before the
dawn I knew something was off.”
“I really meant to patrol Gotham but the events…”
Alfred nodded.
“I’m glad it was for the best, sir.”
He left him for a moment and returned.
 “Your antipyretics, Master Bruce” he offered him a tablet and a glass of
water. “You were drenched last night and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to go down
with a fever.”
Bruce looked at him and Alfred’s warm, concerned gaze was the echo of Clark’s a
few minutes before he took off. Today he felt finally all the love around him
getting to his core soothing and warming the aching, cold void there.
 
He had just sat on the working bench of the cave checking the new data from the
public cameras’ feeding when the humming sound of the lift informed him that
Alfred was coming. He opened the lengthy file of the League’s database and
turned to his butler that held a small silver tray with an envelope.
Bruce frowned: a personal letter otherwise Alfred wouldn’t have disturbed him.
“Pardon me for the interruption, sir but this just came for you.”
“Thank you, Alfred.”
“You’re welcome, sir.”
The letter didn’t have the sender’s name and as the lift began ascending he
opened it, a knot in his stomach as he read:
Dear Bruce,
I’m writing this while I’m leaving Gotham. I’m sorry I couldn’t be as brave as
you and face things; I couldn’t see again Harvey and explain to him. I hope his
anger will be enough to forget me and never try to contact me again. And I
surely hope the same for you; you must realize that your childhood friend
doesn’t exist anymore and in her place is a new being, a stranger; only a
stuffed, fluffy toy connecting us.
I’ll testify against Joker - Jackie - but in Boston where he started his
‘career’ and I’ll reveal everything I know, involving my contribution to all
these. I want you to feel proud for the little girl you knew even though she
isn’t here anymore - I’m doing that to her memory and your friendship.
I’d like to ask you not try to involve in my case - I know how great and kind
is your heart forgiving and giving a second chance even to those who don’t
deserve it. But, please, Bruce: don’t ever seek to meet me again - keep the
memories of little Rachel and forget you ever met me...Say that your Rachel
died then from cancer...which would have been the best.
I hope you’ll find the things life took from you. And...if it’s easy for you,
help Harvey forget me. He is a good man, he and his father and I know you have
them under your care.                                                          
                                                                               
                        
                                                                         Rachel
P.S. I’m keeping Eeyore: he is the only property I cherish.
A spear impaled Bruce’s skull and he ran his fingers through his hair, a
painful knot in his throat. This was awful; he couldn’t let Rachel face all
that alone. She’ll need protection even with the witness protection program and
she didn’t deserve to be alone; he believed that she cared about Harvey and was
doing that to spare him the scandal and the suffering - Rachel thought that
hatred was better than sorrow…
He read again the letter; maybe if he was here Rachel would have come to talk
to him and maybe he had managed to change her decision. But he was absorbed in
other things, selfish things and his friend was suffering alone. He rubbed his
temple and breathed slowly, controlling his respiration: a full range migraine
was the last he wanted.
He slumped on the stool; he had to find Rachel... He immediately gave the order
for the processor to call her smart phone but it was closed.
She didn’t want to be found but he had to watch her case closely and ensure
that she would get leniency. Even if she wanted to get away from her past and
her old friend who reminded her things that pained, he wouldn’t abandon her
again. And Harvey must be heartbroken...Harvey didn’t know what Rachel had let
him know but surely he must be in angst, eager to find her for answers…
Maybe he should speak to Harvey and explain to him how tender was Rachel and
how carefully she needed to be handled - and that Joker had managed to take
advantage of her and use her to his crimes.On the other hand he wasn’t sure if
he had the right to reveal so much about her without her permission. Ugh!
Rachel, why you didn’t talk to me?
He began pressing buttons on his keyboard to hack the Boston Police Department
site to see if Rachel had already contacted them. There was nothing there even
in the encrypted files with the witnesses in need of protection. He changed his
research to the feeding from the airports’ cameras though he had the feeling
that Rachel had chosen another way of traveling - probably by car - to not be
detected.
The phone in his bedroom rang like a thunder in the cave’s silence; he answered
it from there and instantly his mind blew in thoughts hearing the familiar
voice through a long distance call.
“Cassandra, hang up and I’ll call you immediately from a safe line.”
He was sure that Cassandra called to answer his questions and he was intrigued.
“How are you and your family, Cassandra?” he asked sacrificing his curiosity to
politeness.
“Fine, Bruce; and you?”
“Fine, thank you.”
He waited patiently though his agony was demanding.
“The last time we spoke you asked me some things I couldn’t answer then…”
“And?” he inquired anxiously.
“My mother told me some things and she wants for you to know.”
Bruce closed his eyes in relief.
“Though I don’t know how you’ll react to all these. You see, I’m aware that
your thinking is ruled by scientific reasoning and some things that don’t apply
to our time’s narrow limits might seem ridiculous to you.”
Bruce brought his hand over his eyes.
“Believe me, Cassandra, nothing seems ridiculous to me anymore…” his voice was
flat.
“Then my mother was right…” Cassandra said and Bruce once again had the feeling
that this girl could sense other people’s thoughts and emotions. “You saw
something out of this realm.”
“Please, Cassandra; speak to me without riddles.”
“There is a demon threatening you” it wasn’t a question.
“Yes and your mother knows about that - she knew two decades ago when she gave
the Black Butterfly to my mother. You told me to have the diamond close to me.”
A small pause in the other end.
“It helped?”
Bruce knew that Cassandra didn’t doubt the power of the gem but his willingness
to accept and use it.
“It did” he sensed Cassandra’s relief “Cassandra, how did your mother know?”
“When your father came to Marathon and helped people, healing and saving lives,
among them and mine, my mother recognized the healer-priest of Nemesis.”
Bruce gasped and his head went on fire.
“My father an ancient Goddess’ priest? Cassandra, my father hadn’t any
connection with religions.”
But Cassandra’s voice was the usual poized, solemn voice.
“My mistake, Bruce. I failed to distinct it: she recognized in his face the
healer-priest: that doesn’t mean that your father was the ancient healer-
priest. As for him not having any relation to the Goddess” Bruce discerned a
small smile in her voice “his surname’s initial that was towering over your
city is actually the symbol of Nemesis; a representation of her wings of
justice: a bat. My mother realized that he must be a distant descendant of the
lost generation of Nemesis’ healer-priests.”
Bruce rubbed his eyes: that was preposterous! First, his mother and now his
father...Someone was playing him a prank: a nasty plot.
“The last priest of Nemesis had to flee Greece because of the persecution the
new religion unleashed against what considered enemy. The priest chose to leave
to save the religion of the goddess, appeasing Nemesis’ enemies that believed
the religion dead with the priest’s leaving. He changed his name and many
countries to cover his tracks but always keeping the English ‘W’ – but in
reality his Goddess’ symbol – as his initial and the other letters of his
surname taken from the letters engraved in the cornerstones of the Goddess’
temple. Obviously he created a family and his descendants migrated to America,
a New World they believed safer.”
Indeed, Waynes for generations were always serving justice and health…Still…
“My father didn’t know anything.”
“Of course. The priest’s children never revealed anything to their children to
protect them from their enemies because the Church and those who wanted to find
the Black Butterfly would do anything to discover the priest’s descendants and
kill them as ‘paganists satanists’ or torture them to get the Goddess’ gem. The
gem that had helped the Goddess in the battle between the Gods and Bagdana.”
“But the gem was safe in your mother’s ancestors’ possession. How your mother
was sure about my father?”
“There was the resemblance, the features of the priest; there was a belief
between the few remaining believers that the priest’s descendant will come one
day and save Nemesis’ home and the people of Marathon. And indeed your father
restored the ancient temple. Also, there was your father’s surname. Yet my
mother is not the type of the easily persuaded.”
“And what persuaded her?”
Cassandra stayed silent for a few seconds.
“It was you, actually; Dr. Wayne’s little son.”
Bruce closed his eyes in exasperation; it was overwhelming, really.
“She saw you among people and noticed your eyes: the emerald star of Nemesis’
irises shining in your sapphire eyes.”
Bruce shook his head unconvinced.
“Cassandra, this could be a coincidence.”
“But the greatest proof was the fact you became a punisher, an enforcer of
justice using the wings of bats which were sacred for the goddess and preceded
her sword . You have her sacred animal and symbol as the crest of your
mission.”
Bats were always his friends; they were always there soothing and guiding him,
giving him courage and inspiration. He felt shivers: that was the reason bats
were protecting him all these years?
“Yes, but this can’t explain why your mother trusted the sacred gem to my
mother.”
Another long silence from Cassandra.
“She saw something else on you…” Bruce held his breath and ignored the
throbbing pain in his skull. “She saw the leaf of Lilith on your toe. Everyone
involved in Nemesis’ religion was aware of her confrontation with Bagdana and
about the demon’s story – I’m sure you searched the story. That mark was
believed lost over the generations of Lilith’s descendants and its resurface
was bad news for the son of Dr. Wayne. My mother after your father saved me
while every doctor claimed that my death was certain, handed the Black
Butterfly to your mother to protect you from Bagdana who was looking for his
mate through the ages.”
Bruce gulped.
“She trusted the priceless gem, the object that helped Nemesis defeat Bagdana
to a woman who according to her beliefs was the descendant of a demon?”
“A demon that chose to abandon her demonic nature to live with the man she
loved and have his children. Furthermore, my mother as the last carrier of
Nemesis’ religion can read people’s aura and deepest feelings and she saw your
mother helping people and inside her only love. My mother knew the will of
Nemesis and the Goddess wanted her little child protected and armored with the
gem which was completely safe in Martha’s hands.”
“And when your mother heard about our murders? I bet she was scared about the
fate of the gem.”
Cassandra answered immediately.
“Not at all. She knew that the sacred gem was to serve its purpose even if
things seemed ominous…”
And now they seem ominous enough, Cassandra...
“Cassandra, you know that Bagdana is close to me and the Black Butterfly repels
him but he threatens my loved ones and they don’t have something to protect
them. Also” he pressed his lips “he seems to get stronger.”
Cassandra drew a calm but deep breath.
“That is to be expected: he has found what he was looking for for ages, Bagdana
and Lilith was an entity, a powerful entity in their unison and whoever brought
Bagdana close to you, gave to the demon the ability to leave his realm and roam
ours; his power enhancing fuelled by your very existence and proximity till he
gets what he wants.”
Bruce licked his dry lips.
“He knows that supposedly I’m also the son of someone related with his arch
Nemesis?”
“I don’t think so. You’re a Chimera, Bruce, right?”
Bruce was dumbfounded.
“How you know?”
“Because Lilith’s DNA couldn’t be mixed with the DNA of someone so much related
with Nemesis as her priest. So when Bagdana is near Lilith’s DNA takes the lead
and you hear him in your head and you see what he wants you to see.”
Now, it made sense: why he got ill during his infancy because of his mother’s
milk that the other DNA couldn’t accept. Why he was hearing the demon’s voice
and seeing things. Why the Blark Butterfly helped him in the past and now
repelled the demon.
“My parents were special human beings but just that: human beings. My mother
was an angel and couldn’t be Lilith’s descendant.”
“Do not forget that gods or demons in the ancient years were very different
from what people think of them now; in ancient Greece gods were also called
demons. And demons in one theory were indeed fallen angels” her voice softened.
“I know it’s difficult for you to accept all these but it is true that you’re a
special human being and you serve the Goddess and the Black Butterfly as a real
healer-priest.”
Bruce’s migraine ranged.
“Healer?” Superman was the one who healed him.
“It’s possible you have the talent of your father or healing abilities you
don’t know yet.”
Bruce didn’t believe that, actually he doubted all these preposterous things.
His parents were ordinary people with extraordinary skills and kindness and he
was just a man struggling to survive and stop corruption and crime.
Nevertheless one thing mattered.
“How can I neutralize Bagdana?”
“Demons can’t die, Bruce.”
“Lilith did.”
“Because she abandoned her nature willingly.”
“I didn’t consider killing him just sending him permanently to his realm.”
“Only the Knife of Justice can manage that; the dagger Goddess Athena and
Nemesis created and blessed to give to Alexander the Great.”
Bruce gulped; he had the weapon in his hands and surrendered it.
“The Knife was returned to the Greek people and now belongs to the Museum.”
“Because you chose to give it to Superman to hand it over so that nobody
figures out you used it.”
“I won’t steel the knife from the Museum. There must be another way.”
“There’s not but do not worry; the Knife always finds its way to return to its
owner.”
“I’m not…”
“Its will has already used your hands, Bruce; you have to accept some things.
And then we’re certain you’ll manage again to conquer your enemies. Keep the
sacred gem on you and the Goddess’ blessing will be with you.”
“Thank you, Cassandra. Can I call you if anything comes up?”
“Of course but the safest answers are those inside you. Bye, Bruce.”
“My greetings and gratitude to your mother, Cassandra.”
He ended the call and tapped his fingers on the bench; reality returned to
crush on his shoulders. He hated all these: he wanted to be just the son of
Martha and Thomas, two great, amazing people, not the supposed hybrid of a
demon and a priest.
He sighed and turned to the screen where the accumulative feedback from
Boston’s airports was crossed with Rachel’s face without result. As he
expected…
He had no choice but focus on the most urgent of the pressing matters: the
project ‘egis’ which would reveal the League’s plans. He opened the different
files of the huge database and spreaded them to his five screens.
He ignored his migraine and recounted again his clues. The League had created a
super secret net recruiting men and women with special powers and skills
copying S.H.I.E.L.D.’s structure to be able of a rapid takeover when the attack
started.
The League worked with Stane and Luthor; Stane stole Ironman’s initial armor
and created Iron Monger with some adjustments to kill Tony and take Stark
Industries: only S.H.I.E.L.D. due to proximity could have found a way to get
Tony’s tech. Also, Luthor had sold weapons to S.H.I.E.L.D. which were stolen
and used to ‘the big three massacre’ by the League. Both cases along with the
attack at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters at Sydney screamed that the
organization’s famous secrecy had been breached and compromised.
And then there’s Miranda Tate who served as the representative of the League to
their coalition with Stane, Luthor and Dagget; the foundation she ran and
reassured Dagget’s Kryptonite mines in Tanzania was in the same area the
S.H.I.E.L.D. had also foundations which names of course weren’t listed
anywhere…for secrecy…
He tapped fast Tate’s name and the processor fed the file to the screen, her
beautiful, smug face looking at him; her stare so familiar. Maybe the League
managed to infiltrate S.H.I.E.L.D. and Tate was one of the ghost members of the
organization? That would have explained a lot.
And then how Stane managed to overcome the safety of his office? Tony had never
fed that data in Ironman or Jarvis. Lucius was the only person except than him
who knew the pattern but the scientist kept it in the safest place there is:
his genius mind. Then how Stane knew the way to break into without alerting the
guards? The same way he manufactured Iron Monger: stealing information.
But unlike Ironman S.H.I.E.L.D. had no access to his office…Or…He remembered
Fury’s adventurous visit…S.H.I.E.L.D.’s director had plenty of time to scan the
room if was carrying the proper equipment. Though he generally was suspicious
he didn’t believe that Fury had planned to decipher his security to store it in
his organization’s database to use later; or if he had initially, when faced
with Tony’s wrath and what he witnessed between him and Joker, he’d surely
erase it – especially, since Tony had made a detailed research in
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s systems and didn’t find anything.
Bruce pressed his lips. Unless the shady part of S.H.I.E.L.D. stored the most
‘controversial’ data only for her ghost directors. And that brings the question
of how the League managed to steal this information into using them to its
project ‘egis’ and its goals.
He didn’t believe that Fury was a double agent; the man was obsessed with
thwarting and destroying the league of Shadows and he had been one of the
leaders in the operation that cleaned Gotham from Al Ghul’s society.
There must be an explanation of how the League managed to gain top secret data
from S.H.I.E.L.D. and the project ‘egis’ must be this explanation. He sighed.
“Sometimes the most important answers are right under your nose, child. Mocking
you. The most intriguing secrets are hidden under mundane words or names…”
Ra’s’ smug voice echoed from his training sessions. “Sometimes the name of a
thing tells everything about it… ‘The league of Shadows’ is just a name but
encloses everything about who we are and how we’re functioning.”
Bruce typed ‘egis’ in his research engine but the results were disappointing.
And then he scrutinized again the authentic text: the name of the project was
‘αιγις’. Maybe that could tell him more; he put the authentic word in the
search engine and the page of the results welcomed him with a photo that made
his jaw drop.
A round shaped object with the head of a creature with snakes for hair at the
center held by a woman who was the Greek Goddess Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom,
War and Strategy, as Ra’s had taught him. Al Ghul was an avid admirer of this
Goddess and had the Knife of Justice in his possession for decades.
The results were all in Greek and the Meta Phrase translated them in English.
Αιγις (egis) orΑιγιδα (egida) was the name of Goddess Athena’s shield that the
Goddess created with the skin of a horrible beast, the Chimera, and had
Medusa’s head on.
Bruce slumped on his stool pressing his lips the realization striking:
The project ‘egis’ was the creation of S.H.I.E.LD: a shield covering the League
from its enemies and giving them momentus to strike them.
Ra’s created an international organization to recruit every man and woman with
special skills persuading them that their goal was the protection of the world
and the justice – well, that was truly his goal yet his sense of protection and
justice undoubtedly wasn’t what all these heroes and governments had believed.
His project was applying Athena’s characterstics: War based on Wisdom and
Strategy.
Thus the League planned to annihilate the world and force their order of things
in two ways: by gaining the governments’ trust into handing over their secrets
and defense and by having under their control an unbeatable army that
unknowingly would serve the League’s purposes…
And Miranda Tate who was the key-person in the project ‘egis’ had to be Ra’s’
successor and now ruled both the League and the S.H.I.E.L.D. having already the
Avengers in her service and a weaponry combining the latest technology courtesy
of Dr. Banner’s genius and ancient weapons of great power; and that while the
governments all over the world cooperated with them in blind trust.
And now everything was explained: why they couldn’t find S.H.I.E.L.D.’s
database – every information was kept in the encrypted files under the name
‘egis’. And how the League of Shadows gained the information about Tony’s armor
enabling Stane manufacture the Iron Monger; how the league knew where
S.H.I.E.L.D. had stored Luthor’s weapons; how they were informed about the
security in his office. That explained why S.H.I.E.L.D. was run with such
secrecy giving only Fury’s name as the director. That explained why the project
‘egis’ included every foundation in each country S.H.I.E.L.D. did:
Because αιγις meant S.H.I.E.L.D and if you replaced αιγις with S.H.I.E.L.D. you
had the organization’s secret database.
***** Chapter 61 *****
Clark was watching Gordon’s press conference about the latest developments
trying to block the replaying of last night’s scenes which was very difficult
since the police commissioner didn’t say anything thrilling. His Gothamites
colleagues murmured annoyed or protested loudly, some even blaming the GCPD for
doing nothing to protect the city from the new threat.
“I’d like to reassure everyone that GCPD has taken every measure to protect
Gotham’s citizens” Jim answered calmly keeping his trademark stoicism but
raising his voice in a manifestation of his confident authority: Clark smirked;
Jim knew very well Gotham’s reporters and didn’t let them get to him. “As for
the murders, the investigation is progressing and we’ll have results very soon;
but till then, I’m sure you understand that we can’t divulge anything.”
Clark knew that even if Jim had found something and reached some conclusions he
wouldn’t feed the hungry beast unless absolutely sure and after the arrests.
Jim wasn’t popular with the press exactly because he didn’t allow any leaks;
for him justice and citizens’ protection was the priority.
“You will be informed for anything new in due time” he pushed his glasses on
his nose.
“Yeah, after the arrests…” an annoyed dude sneered.
Jim pierced him with his eyes.
“Good journalism is like good justice system: puts the public safety before
personal ambition.”
That silenced most of the irritated voices leaving only some murmurs.
“Some witnesses said that the night of the murders a giant robot was seen
fighting with Batman – something like a black, overlarge Ironman. People said
that saw the robot flying away from Gotham really battered, defeated by Batman:
what do you know about that?”
Jim shook his head.
“These are only rumors; there’s nothing official.”
“What about the attack in Wayne Tower? Any news on Stane?”
“It’s true that he has developed an armor copying Ironman’s suit? And if that’s
so maybe Stane is connected with the giant robot too?”
“Do you think he might come back for Stark or Wayne?”
Now Clark straightened his eye glasses interested.
“A federal warrant has been issued for him and FBI conducts the investigation
in every state while GCPD continues the search locally. As for the armors you
mentioned there’s an investigation ongoing and you’ll be officially informed.”
“Any knowledge on who helped him escape? They took him from the security guards
with a GCPD patrol car and wore uniforms; do you think that he has accomplices
in the force?”
“Definitely not!” now Jim’s voice was almost angry: he wouldn’t allow the
ghosts of Falcone’s era still haunt the new GCPD. “The people who took Stane
were impostors and will be brought to justice along with him. Thank you for
your time.”
“Wasted time!” some snorted but Jim ignored them and left the room for what
Clark knew was really important work.
Clark had some more intelligence about the murders of the three crime lords: as
an esteemed investigative reporter who always protected his sources he had
estamblished a relationship of trust with some people in the Department of
Defence who told him that the guns used in the murders were in fact registered
and sold legally: the GCPD and Gotham’s DA had made an official inquire to get
every info concerning the engraved numbers on the bullet jackets but it took
some time for this info to be given to anyone. And that explained Jim’s
hesitation to say anything wanting to catch the culprits by surprise.
His smartphone rang. It was Lois and he hastened to find a secluded corner.
“Hey, Smallville! How’s your stay in Gotham?”
Clark rolled his eyes and smiled hearing her vibrant voice.
“Fine, Lois” more than fine actually… “And you?”
“Mundane things...Actually, I believe that Gotham is the center of interest
now. Luthor is there for almost a month playing the good kid. And that’s too
odd: he is up to something and you’re so lucky being there.” her voice became
sly. “And coverage of news is the last reason: how is your Prince?”
It was a sunny day in Gotham but GCPD’s building was gray and grim so Lois’
last word made everything cast under a dazzling, cheerful light.
“He is fine” he said and failed to hold back a sigh.
And that was a grave mistake for Lois was a reporter that smelled big news;
Clark slapped his forehead but it was too late.
“I thought he was attacked by Stane and watched his best friend being heavily
injured - the footage from Leslie’s clinic showed him quite distressed… Unless
something fixed his mood…” she said wittily and Clark could see her smirk and
the glimmer of her eyes.
“Well, he is a brave young man who knows how to overcome…”
Lois laughed.
“What have you done, farmboy? I should be happy for you?”
Clark lolled his head to the side cursing himself for being such a sucker.
“C’me on, Clark; I won’t tell - though that would have been the news of the
year. But you know I can keep a secret and it’s not curiosity or reporter’s
greed I just want to be happy for you - for both of you…”
“I’m so stupid; a word betrayed me…”
“Actually, it was your voice; I never heard you like that before so
affectionately happy...Ugh! I want so much to hear everything...but I’ll show
understanding and I won’t push you. Tell me only that: how was it? Where did
happened? The Prince liked it as much as you?”
Clark felt his cheeks turning red and very hot seeing again Bruce’s head lolled
backwards moaning in ecstasis, his beautiful face hued in the soft glow of
sweat, his eyes half closed but their shine in pleasure blinding him through
the long, silky eyelashes; and his body’s enchanting perfume as Clark savored
every corner, the paralyzing sense of Bruce’s legs wrapped around his hips, the
heaven-like feeling of Bruce’s hips dancing slowly, sensually on his groin, the
electric currents roaming his body as his Star’s flesh brushed his own
shivering and convulsing… His crotch twitched demandingly, still not forgiving
him for leaving Bruce without another intercourse.
“Uuuuu! I got it!” Lois slapped her thigh enthusiastic. “You’re still replaying
it so it must have been spectacular! Lucky you! Go, boy!”
Clark rubbed his temple chuckling.
“Is he happy? I bet it was tough for him overcoming his traumas…”
“Lois, you said you won’t ask too much…”
Her blushing was almost audible.
“You’re right but I’m so thrilled for all these… Anyway, Perry waits your
correspondence…” she chuckled. “He’d have given you his paycheck of a year for
a line about Prince’s first time…”
Clark was pissed.
“I’d never make his first time gossip news and we’re not a tabloid rag, Lois!”
“I’m teasing you, farmboy! You’re such an overprotective honey! And better be,
buster! You need to be very careful with that delicate sweetie.”
Clark knew this already and sometimes he felt scared from the responsibility
and the greatness of what it was given to him.
 
Bane opened the door and bowed his head in respect as Ubu passed him to enter
Talia’s office: Ubu was his trainer and teacher though he suspected that the
wise man kept too many aspects of his knowledge only for himself. That made Ubu
a mystery, a guru and...a possible threat. However he left the office on
Talia's gesture.
Talia was perusing her minions’ latest reports; she had been informed for her
old teacher’s arrival and ordered to be immediately escorted to her study. So
upon seeing Ubu entering stood up and hurried to meet him, bowing her head
respectfully and shaking his hand.
“I can sense your agitation and eagerness, Mistress Talia” he addressed her
with his trademark deep solemn voice, his eyes piercing hers. “And you always
considered patience and emotional control your greatest skills…”
Talia bit her lip and showed the armchair to her teacher.
“I hope you had a pleasant trip, Master Ubu” she avoided answering under Ubu’s
knowing stare and returned to her chair.
“I don’t cherish trips, Mistress Talia; it was your order that made me leave
the temple.”
Talia leaned towards him.
“Once you roamed the world unstoppably” she shook her head and her cold eyes
became a bit warmer. “I’d like you to not consider my requests orders.”
Ubu’s emotionless face was etched by a faint smile.
“That’s difficult, Mistress Talia since you’re now Master Al Ghul’s successor;
you’re not anymore the fearless, stubborn, unstoppable child I taught.”
Talia’s eyes for a second filled with images of the old temple and the wild
landscape of Himalayas but instantly chased them away in favor of practicality;
indeed, she wasn’t a child anymore.
“You told me to come to Gotham. Here is not Gotham.”
Talia pressed her fingertips together and nodded.
“In this stage, we can’t remain there: at least, one of our enemies knows our
premises there.”
Ubu cocked an eyebrow.
“As enemies you mean your allies…”
She locked eyes with him.
“You can’t call these people ‘allies’; you can’t trust them neither give them
leverage: they are snakes lurking to bite you...unless, you bite them first.”
“I see your father’s teachings were engraved in you.”
“As yours, Master Ubu.”
He smirked unconvinced and then his face took again the statue-like
tranquility.
“How can an obsolete soldier serve you, Mistress Talia?”
Talia’s eyes jerked on that.
“Your wisdom, experience and unsurpassed skill in battle are never ‘obsolete’:
you’re more useful than an army.”
Ubu could easily see through people especially that student of his.
“So you are ready to proceed with your plans” he said with a dark shadow
clouding his eyes.
Talia leaned back in her chair frowning, her eyes smug and determined; she knew
that though Ubu never expressed it he had some tender feelings for the battered
boy her father entrusted him. But the leader of the shadows was certain that
their loyal soldier wouldn’t disobey her will exactly as he never did with Ra’s
Al Ghul.
“Of course Master Ubu” her voice was sharp like the blade of a Katana and
somewhat mocking: she could understand Bruce’s charm to people, the obsession
he created but not the affection she suspected in her tough trainer. “You know
that he belongs to us… to me; he must return and serve his destiny: the League
and his Master’s heiress.”
Her eyes glimmered like black agates as she leaned towards Ubu who remained
totally untouched by her passion.
“We’ll be almighty with Bruce working wholeheartedly for us: you know the
incredible range of his abilities and the possibilities of what is hidden
inside him” Ubu closed his eyes on that. “Nobody will be able to resist us; my
father put the foundations for exploiting Bruce’s extraordinary skills into
restoring justice, peace and prosperity to the world. Bruce already has given
us Superman’s defeat and will ensure Stark’s perpetual cooperation. Imagine the
possibilities, Master Ubu!” her entire porcelain face glowed with the light of
the world her father and herself dreamt.
Yet Ubu didn’t share her enthusiasm; his eyes were grim as his face.
“What are your plans for him?” his voice was grimmer.
Talia shook her head.
“I told you already: he will serve me and the League for his entire life. He’ll
use his abilities to make us triumph over our enemies.”
“And? What do you want from him for yourself?”
Talia narrowed her eyes.
“I don’t understand.”
Ubu smirked.
“Very well, Mistress Talia…” Talia felt the wave of anger in her body for the
sense of deeper knowledge Ubu emanated. “But he’d prefer to die than serve you:
your father used him in every possible way, fooling him into serving his
purposes; when Bruce figured out defeated your father and almost destroyed the
League. You talk with fascination for his abilities but I’m afraid you haven’t
fully realized who he is and what he is capable of: he’ll never bow to you and
serve you.”
Talia gritted her teeth: Ubu thought that she didn’t know her thing? Doubted
the force of her will?
“I don’t doubt you, Mistress Talia but I don’t doubt him either” the wise man
read her mind because he knew her ego too well.
Talia intertwined her fingers regaining her composure.
“I’ve taken my measures to ensure his totally...change of mind. My father’s
mistake was that he loved the boy’s defiance, it fueled his passion for him and
he was adamant in letting his mind uncontrolled wanting to test his own power
by enforcing his will only with strength and fear without other means. I won’t
do the same mistake; I have taken special care of reassuring that his mind will
be loyal to us as much as his body.”
Ubu nodded.
“Then what do you want me for?”
Talia pressed her lips in a tight smile.
“You trained him for years, you know him.”
Ubu connected the tips of his fingers in front of his face.
“I don’t think that I can pride myself on such a feat.”
Talia’s frustration was obvious but she didn’t care to hide it; besides Ubu
knew her so well that read even her aura’s changes.
“My father brought you from Nepal to Gotham in order to chisel the boy: your
experiences with him could prove handy in any case and...your specialized
knowledge is one of a kind and necessary…”
Her voice’s tone secretive and demanding at the same time it was enough for Ubu
to understand.
“You’re worried about the demon…” his forehead creased.
Talia placed her hands on the desk and leaned towards him, her eyes steely.
“You told me that you used some repellents when you realized that the demon was
trying to mate with him. And that that repellents must have worn off so I don’t
know if the demon is still interested in Bruce and if he can lay his hands on
him but I definitelly don’t want a horny, powerful demon thwarting my plans.”
“If Bagdana wants Bruce you can’t stop him.”
Talia yanked her head.
“Master Ubu, you came here with the will to frustrate me…” she inhaled deeply.
“You’ll apply every repellent you know and I’m sure you’ll manage as you
managed all these years…”
“After his two copulations with the boy his power increases constantly and I
don’t want even to consider what will happen if he copulates with him a third
time.”
Talia’s patience was tested yet she remained poised.
“That’s why I need your wisdom. You see, his powerful friends will desparately
search for him and I’ll place Bruce somewhere they won’t find him.”
Realization manifested in the man’s face.
“You plan to hold Bruce in the depths of the mountain!”
She nodded with a smug expression hueing her features.
“There are lead reserves that will block Superman’s vision - he’ll be extremely
weak by now due to his exposure to Bruce but his addiction will force him to
look frantic for what he believes is his mate and I don’t want to risk it. I’ll
allow the alien find Bruce when I’ll want it: when Bruce will be ready to kill
him and bestow his severed head to me.”
Ubu closed his eyes.
“Also, there’s other minerals that would block the means Stark will attempt to
use to free his friend before succumbing to the terror for Bruce’s fate and my
will” she continued unfazed from Ubu’s reaction absorbed in her self
satisfaction.
“You can’t just take Lilith’s descendant in Bagdana’s realm and expect to be
spared from him!” it was so unusual for Ubu to raise his voice in exasperation
that Talia frowned.
“I won’t jail him so deep to reach the demon’s realm but I want your repellent
knowledge for any case.”
Talia’s satellite smart phone rang and she smirked cunningly seeing the
caller’s ID.
“Tell me, Lex.”
Ubu’s gaze was lost in the vast bare landscape grazed with the late afternoon’s
sun rays.
“So he called…” she stressed the ‘he’. “Very nice…” Talia’s voice was
restrained but her grin widened. “You know what to do.”
She ended the call and turned to her teacher.
“Αlea iacta est”she told him with a sly glint in her eyes.
Ubu blinked and that was a clear message of his despair.
“Mistress Talia, I beg you to not seek to capture Bruce Wayne; this man hides
too many secrets that even himself doesn’t know but still his secrets can
destroy you as your father.”
Talia considered his distress; it was disconcerting but still Ubu was a man of
superstitions many of them silly. She was a general of modern warfare and
couldn’t plan her moves based on his premonitions. Besides his warning for
Bruce’s hidden mysteries just fuelled more her fascination for the man and her
greed to use his unlimited skills and treasure-secrets for her goals.
“You know or suspect these secrets?”
Ubu found again his composure.
“I told you everything I knew and that should have been enough.”
Yet Talia wasn’t sure that he was telling the truth; she suspected that Ubu had
figured out more about Bruce’s mystery but he didn’t want to tell and that made
her more stubborn.
“I’ll get Bruce and his secrets will serve me whether he wants it or not. We’ll
proceed as planned and I’ll triumph where my father failed.”
Ubu stood up tranquil and Talia did the same; her teacher bowed his head to his
leader and her eyes widened eager.
“Your wishes are my commands, Mistress Talia, as your father’s were. I’ll pray
you find the enlightenment.”
Talia snorted but didn’t say anything as the respectful figure left her office.
 
Bruce had just ended the call to Luthor and turned back to the computer screen
to check some details on the files he readied to give Jim and Harvey in
relation to the big three massacre; he was aware that the Department of Defence
would inform both men that the weapons were manufactured by Luthor, sold to
S.H.I.E.L.D. and stolen to be used to the assault; yet he wanted them to know
that Luthor wasn’t the culprit and that the League of Shadows actually killed
the people in Gambol’s restaurant.
However he was including the evidence he gathered proving Luthor’s, Dagget’s
and Stane’s involvement in crimes and their collaboration with the terroristic
group. How Luthor and Dagget attempted to murder Superman using Kryptonite that
obtained from the League (of course he hid the nature of this Kryptonite) and
proofs that Luthor manufactured the first-seen gun with which Joker breached
Wayne Tower and murdered Luthor’s thugs in his hideout; the gun was product of
illegal experimentation, unregistered and clearly created to hit the Tower.
In another screen he had continuously feeding from the Boston’s Police
Department database in case Rachel arrived there.
A soft hiss told him that Tony was there and he just pressed the button that
would send to Clark and Selina his message to come to the cave. He would inform
them about everything and they’ll plan their moves.
He turned to Tony and he was already beside him having deactivated Ironman’s
armor.
“What’s going on, buddy? I received a flood of data from you: is this the
League’s database? You managed to decipher that mysterious project?”
Bruce nodded.
“It’s the League’s database concerning their project ‘egis’ and the database of
S.H.I.E.L.D.”
Tony frowned and shook his head.
“S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database? I have hacked their systems and I didn’t find any
database. How?”
Bruce knew that it’d be a shock for Tony.
“The files of the project ‘egis’ were in fact the secret database of
S.H.I.E.L.D.”
Tony’s eyes remained blank for a moment processing fast the information; yet it
was so absurd that he had to hear it once more.
“Com’ again?”
Bruce tapped his fingers on the bench.
“S.H.I.E.L.D. is the ‘egis’ project.”
Now Tony had to sit down slapping his own face.
“You really want to tell me that S.H.I.E.L.D. is in fact the League of
Shadows?”
Bruce regarded his friend.
“I’m afraid there’s no doubt about that: replacing the word ‘αιγις’ with
S.H.I.E.L.D. the entire database makes sense.”
He explained to him the logical jumps he made that led to that revelation which
explained every question they had and gave the vocal order to the processor to
project a world map with the web of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s estamplishements and another
one with those of the project ‘egis’, finally bringing them to overlap each
other.
“So all this time I was working for these motherfuckers?! Fuck! I even fund
them!” he gaped and ruffled his locks considering his actions under
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s lead all these months. “Thankfully, I listened to you and I
didn’t give them any technology of Stark Industries...” his heartbeat rose.
“Not that this stopped them from stealing Ironman’s technology…It was the
Avengers’ beeper that all this time gathered secretly info and sent it to
them…Damn! I have it on me now!”
But Bruce was absolutely calm.
“I think that these gadgets are made only to scan technology and body’s
functions, thankfully the cave, the Manor, your house and Lucius’ lab have high
security to thwart industrial espionage and bugs; however the foyer in front of
my office wasn’t: that’s how Stane knew to break into undetectable – Fury’s
beeper when he met with me did the job. Actually, I believe that they stole the
Ironman tech during your stayings at the Avengers’ jet; of course that before
you took extra security measures.”
 Tony closed his eyes.
“They were hearing us when out of these places?”
“Jarvis and your armor are protected from any tracking technology so they
couldn’t but I can’t be sure for the Avengers. Also, when you told me about
your first battle with Iron Monger I suspected that someone was watching you
and stealing info and I took my precautions using electronic waves from my
cell-like gadget into distorting their reception.”
“Why you didn’t tell me?”
Bruce shook his hand pressing his lips.
“Because I wasn’t absolutely sure and you were going to call me paranoid.”
Tony bit his lip on the memory of his harsh words; and then he remembered the
conversations they had in Leslie’s clinic and his intimate interactions with
Pepper. He pressed his hair with both hands jerking his head in relief.
“Thankfully, I’m a negligent student and an arrogant sonovagun so I wasn’t
carrying everywhere that piece of shit relying on Jarvis or my own StarkStell
to alert me through call tranfer… But fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I was fighting for them
and they scanned my suit extracting MY technology to give it to that bastard
Stane! And we followed their commands trusting them to guide us. Shit! All this
power, the connections, the foundations, the info on all of us...They knitted a
deadly, evil web around the whole planet bringing governments, UN and the
Avengers to believe and rely to them for fighting evil. And we’re serving the
absolute evil! And only you suspected them…”
Bruce’s eyes glowed.
“I grew up with them; I was taught to be suspicious the hard way” his tone was
bitter.
And then Tony jerked upright and brought his hands to clench his hips.
“Bruce Banner has given them high tech weapons he developed! Hulk will be very
destructive when hears it; not to mention what he’ll do to Fury if find
anything of him after I finish with that asshole!”
But Bruce stood totally calm.
“I’m sure Dr. Banner has kept a way of destroying his weapons if something goes
awry and also we have the locations of their secret storages. As for Fury, I
don’t think that he knows the truth; he was misled as all of you.”
Tony narrowed his eyes and shook his head.
“How can you say that? We’re talking about Fury, remember? The sorehead, one
eyed dude who forced all of us to join S.H.I.E.L.D., blackmailed all your
people to make them betray you and in the end fooled me for getting the chance
to corner you so to force you join them. It suits perfectly: he acted for the
League having being informed by them about you: for that he was obsessed.”
Bruce rubbed his chin thoughtful.
“Fury isn’t a member of the League.”
Tony rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.
“Don’t tell me you like Fury because I’m gonna pull my hair…”
Bruce lolled his head.
“I didn’t say that yet Fury is a veteran obsessed with the League and its
destruction; this is why he suspected me of being the Batman: he was watching
the League as much as that was possible and heard about Ra’s taking in and
training a boy; he was convinced that Batman was that boy and Bruce Wayne
fitted perfectly. On the other hand, he was one of the heads in last February’s
SWAT operation that cleared Gotham from the League; if he was a member the
operation would have failed.”
Tony cocked an eyebrow.
“Maybe they sacrificed then their bases in Gotham to secure the bigger plan and
Fury’s trustworthiness.”
Bruce shook his head tapping his lips.
“You have a point yet Fury’s position could have permitted him to thwart the
mission without being exposed: S.H.I.E.L.D. was already estamplished then
though not in field operations. Fury worked independently against the League
because obviously his organization had other interests so he didn’t mixed his
personal interests with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s – and thankfully, he wasn’t carrying the
beeper because obviously as decorated veteran respected the armed corpses’ vow
for secrecy. On the other hand, his name isn’t mentioned among the names of the
project’s directors and even if we assume that maybe they have him under an
alias you said that Fury doesn’t know a thing about S.H.I.E.L.D. He is just a
decorative director, the organization’s front: an esteemed, respectful veteran
to gain the trust of governments and heroes.”
Tony grimaced.
“All in all, you trust him despite the fact he chased you relentlessly.”
Bruce clenched his jaw determined.
“I think I do.”
Tony felt the urge to loll his head exasperated but Bruce’s instinct from the
start was right. He scratched his head and huffed.
“I want to catch that fucking League and made them pay for what they did to you
and for fooling me to work for them! It’s outrageous! I was working for the
assholes that tortured you for years and all this time scheme to hit you again!
I was helping them! Stupid, idiot Stark!”
“Tony, calm down; you did nothing wrong – you meant only good and you’d never
followed them if they had tried to hook you in a shady mission.”
But he wasn’t convinced; he shook his head troubled.
“I’m not so sure; I was fooled so easily and weren’t for you I might have
showed more trust to them” he furrowed his brow rubbing his eyebrow “I even
doubt you for them… They could have easily misled the Avengers into doing wrong
things with the pretense of serving justice.”
His carbon eyes shone determined and he lolled his head on the side.
“Oh! The rest of the kids will be eager to kick some shadowy asses! I must
contact them right away!”
He made to move but Bruce held his hand and Tony knitted his brows.
“What? You gave us their secret headquarters and weapon storages along with the
exact forces that guard them; you gave us details about the weapons they have.
Why not strike them now?”
“We need to organize our steps and be patient; a hurried move could make them
retreat and hide in their holes and we’ll lose a great opportunity. And we need
to gather our forces.”
Tony pressed his lips.
“Forces?”
“The Avengers, Fury” Tony blinked annoyed “Selina and Superman.”
Tony crossed his arms and yanked his head huffing.
“Why Fury? I know you don’t consider him a member of the League but still…” he
didn’t say anything about Superman though only the mention of the man twisted
his guts.
Bruce understood his friend’s secret reaction on Clark’s name but hearing the
whoosh that announced Superman’s arrival he didn’t touch the tender subject.
Clark’s thrilled and anxious heartbeat that increased from the second he took
Bruce’s message and peaked as the cave became nearer halted abruptly seeing
Stark standing right next to his Star: Clark had imagined other things when
received the message. However the moment Bruce raised his head and their eyes
locked the younger man welcoming him with a stare filled with emotion Clark’s
bad mood vanished and walked to the bench with Superman’s determined strides.
Bruce stood up to greet him but to Clark’s disappointment only with a handshake
though his hand’s temperature and his heartbeat told the Man of Steel that the
younger man was indeed very happy to see him again.
“Good evening, Bruce; everything fine?” he turned hesitantly to the billionaire
who was staring at his nails whistling. “Stark…”
“Kent…” he answered with his eyes filled with sarcasm and his eyebrows arched.
Bruce rolled his eyes.
“Superman, I’ll need your help” he said in business manner and Clark nodded
although he hadn’t come for business .
“You know you have my help without asking. I’m listening, Bruce.”
“Don’t be hasty, handsome; I have an invitation too!”
Selina crossed the cave from the entrance the Tumbler used and Bruce smiled
because his friend always knew how to make an entrance. The young woman kissed
Bruce’s cheek and he kissed her back causing a really painful pang in Clark’s
chest: he wished he could kiss Bruce in front of others with that ease.
“Sneakers?” Tony asked her teasingly with a raised eyebrow nodding to her feet.
Selina lolled her head whipping her long ponytail and looked smugly at him.
“The boss” she pointed to Bruce “asked for discretion and my stilletto heels
always make a great impression.”
“Tell me about…” Tony sighed.
Bruce loved to listen to his friends chatting casually but now they were faced
with a crisis.
“Well, lady and gentlemen, there are some developments we have to deal with.
First of all, as I was saying to Tony, S.H.I.E.L.D. is actually the League of
Shadows” he saw Clark’s and Selina’s jaws drop. “They have formed an army of
men and women with special abilities, gained the trust and some of the secrets
of governments all over the globe and they have in their possession modern and
ancient weapons of great power.”
Tony had crossed his arms fuming; his face was gloom and his eyes dark and
calculating.
“How do you know?” Superman asked.
“During my ...service at the League I managed to steal their database where
among the other information were the details for the powerful medicine Ra’s Al
Ghul was using, the ancient weapons they succeeded to manufacture and of their
greatest project ever: the project ‘egis’ which opted to create a powerful army
and gain the trust of every government in the world into accepting without even
realizing the League’s new world order.”
“And how you know that this project is the S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Selina frowned.
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose looking at the grim expression of Tony.
“I found what ‘egis’ means: shield. And that explained everything, was the
piece that completed the puzzle: how Stane who collaborates with the League
stole the Ironman tech, how Stane had the information to break into my office,
how they knew about S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters at Sydney to launch a fake
attack; also, it explains why the project ‘egis’ has its headquarters exactly
at the same cities where S.H.I.E.L.D. does and why the foundation that ensured
Dagget’s mines in Tanzania was both in the ‘egis’ and the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files.
And how the League knew where the S.H.I.E.L.D. had stored Luthor’s weapons that
were used in the ‘big three massacre’.”
Superman frowned.
“So Luthor works with the League and he is behind the murders! The bastard!”
Clark let his already formed wrath against the billionaire take over; Luthor’s
attempted assault on Bruce at Stark’s party, his insulting, disgusting chat
with Dagget during the reception at the Haven and finally his pass on Bruce
here in the Manor that made Clark attack his Star - all these proved already
Luthor’s guilt but he was glad there were also official evidence.
Bruce felt Clark’s anger.
“Luthor indeed works with the League but he had no involvement with the
murders; the League used his weapons to trap him. This doesn’t change the fact
that he plots with them and is deep in other shady business.”
Clark nodded: he believed Luthor capable of killing the crime lords yet Bruce
knew better and he had the satisfaction that Luthor still wouldn’t get away.
Selina in the meantime turned to Tony.
“You didn’t suspect anything?”
He was upset, really angry and Selina’s simple question was salt on open wound.
Yet he knew it was wrong to snap at her.
“Nooooope, dear! Neither I nor the rest of the Avengers...obviously” he arched
his eyebrows in emphasis “otherwise we would have smashed their sorry asses
already! Of course all the secrecy was frustrating and annoying yet we believed
that it was all necessary.”
She nodded.
“Who could have suspected?”
Tony cocked an eyebrow.
“Bruce. He never even considered the idea of Batman being in their lists.”
“What matters is that now we have the locations of their weaponry, their
headquarters and Lucius along with Tony know their weapons and have processed
ways to neutralize them - you see, from the beginning we knew that the weaponry
belonged to the League and we planned countermeasures ASAP. And we know that
Fury, the face of S.H.I.E.L.D. is actually an enemy of the League of Shadows.”
Clark shook his head; it was difficult to pay attention with Bruce’s devine
body so close but things were serious and the League of Shadows had always
Bruce in their target so he buried his fervent desire.
“You’re planning to bring Fury into this?” he asked dumbfounded because he
remembered Fury trying to trap Bruce into admitting he is Batman and joining
his organization.
Tony gave a big nod stilling his eyes on Bruce.
“Oh, yes! He is. He trusts the bold one-eyed dude who blackmailed and
threatened people to ambush him.”
Bruce yanked his head under both Selina’s and Clark’s disbelieving stares.
“I didn’t say that approve his methods or that I like him yet I believe he is
sincere in his passion against crime and the League. I’m sure he doesn’t know
anything about the truth: he wanted Batman so badly because he believed that
he’d manage to destroy the League with my help.”
Tony closed his eyes and massaged the orbs with his fingers; he looked at Bruce
and gestured to the air.
“I can reassure you that the Avengers will be in your side, what do you need
him for?” he couldn’t forgive the man for threatening Bruce and the others
shared his doubts.
Bruce’s eyes shone with their characteristic determination.
“Fury knows every agent who works for S.H.I.E.L.D. He can ensure that they
won’t be an obstacle to the operation against the organization. Agents will
show faith in their leader, the only person they know and trust and won’t obey
to some ghosts they never met.”
“That’s right” Selina nodded thoughtful. “He can be useful.”
Tony also saw his friend’s point and despite his grudge and dislike for Fury he
respected him albeit reluctantly. He slapped his thighs and rose.
“I can talk to him as I’ll do with the team but I don’t know if he’ll believe
me.”
Bruce nodded; he had already thought about that.
“You won’t speak to him because he’ll ask how you know all these and in the end
you’ll be connected with Batman and that will affirm his suspicions about Bruce
Wayne.”
Clark couldn’t get enough of his Star unfolding his thoughts; he was brilliant
and this had even greater value with his past taken into account: as Lois had
put it who could imagine that Falcone’s porcelain sex doll that never spoke for
himself could hide such a resourceful and intelligent mind.
“So you still don’t want Fury know you’re the Batman” Tony nodded. “Then how
it’ll be done?”
Bruce yanked his head.
“Batman will speak to him and to your teammates.”
They gaped at him and Bruce shrugged.
“It’s not that important: Batman has already provided information about the
League in the past so it won’t be weird if he does it again. Besides Fury
suspects - actually, he’s sure - that Batman was raised and trained by Ra’s so
he’ll believe him and the evidence.”
Tony nodded.
“Do you want me to give you access to the Avengers’ jet and Fury’s
communicator?”
Bruce shook his head.
“No, you shouldn’t be connected with Batman in any case” he licked his lips.
“I’ll hack my way through …”
Tony smirked, his eyes glimmering evilly. He knew that they had hardened their
firewalls after they suspected that someone – that was Tony - had hacked their
system. Quite a challenge for the little guy!
“Do we have any intelligence about who is their new leader after Al Ghul?”
Selina who in the mean time had sat on the bench inquired.
Bruce sat on his stool and pressed a button bringing Miranda Tate’s photo in
the screen.
“There’s a great possibility this woman, Miranda Tate, is Ra’s’ successor. She
is running the project ‘egis’ and as Superman informed us she was present in
Luthor - Stane’s meeting in Metropolis.”
Clark nodded, his memory replaying the scenes from Luthor’s office. The raven
haired woman had remained impassive during the proceedings yet her stance was
anything but fearful. On the contrary, she emanated strength, amusement and
arrogance.
“A woman in the head of such a group?” Selina snorted. “Not that I doubt a
woman’s skills but such a macho group having a young woman as a leader? Have
you ever met her?”
Bruce shook his head in denial.
“Do you gather that she has any kinship with Ra’s Al Ghul?” Selina added.
“I don’t know, Selina; that’s a possibility but her kinship alone wouldn’t have
ensured her leadership. She must be really skillful: a true warrior…” and then
something crossed his mind: that night when Batman felt a strange presence
watching him. She could cover her vitals like him but he could sense her; she
was clad in the traditional black ninja attire. He had managed to startle her
and pursued her but she evaded him.
Clark came closer.
“You’ve met her…”
Bruce nodded.
“I think so...She was watching Batman and I chased her but she managed to evade
me.”
Clark frowned.
“So the League indeed is ready to attack you!” he gasped.
Bruce closed his eyes at the dread that voice contained and the other two
blinked.
“I don’t know if Ra’s told anyone who Batman is; he realized the truth towards
the end. Yet this is a possibility I can’t rule out.”
“And they would definitely want to take revenge on their leader and punish the
traitor…” Selina paled.
Bruce pressed his lips uncomfortable with his friends’ worry. Tony stood up
grinding his teeth.
“I’ll call the Avengers in an urgent meeting: we’ll hit them ASAP - I don’t
want them even near you.”
Bruce placed his palm on Tony’s chest to calm him and Clark felt a bit jealous
for that contact that wasn’t for him. Tony narrowed his eyes seeing Bruce
composed and determined; little guy had already formed a plan.
“Don’t be hasty, Tony” his friend sighed shaking his head and sat down.
“They have already knitted their web around the world and...you: they are ready
and you’re in constant danger…” Clark rasped but Bruce’s sharp look stopped
him.
Selina was hugging her sides and watched patiently but with fervent shining
eyes estimating.
“But they ignore that we know about S.H.I.E.L.D., their plan, their allies and
their secrets; we must take advantage of their ignorance to ensure their total
defeat. If we hasten to attack unorganized the war could take time with
casualties we don’t want and maybe they manage to retreat, hide and
reorganize.”
Tony fumed sensing that something not good was near.
“What are you scheming, buddy?” his voice was low but almost threatening.
Bruce pressed his lips understanding that Tony was going to oppose what he was
to say.
“Luthor all this time is eager to meet him in private” Clark’s eyes protruded
on that because he realized too - Selina was keeping her position. “I’m sure
this is part of their plan so I’m going to meet him in order to push them into
making their move.”
“No!” Selina who till now listened silent blasted on that jumping from the
bench on her feet. “Definitely not!”
“Selina…” Bruce tried to appease her but Clark interrupted him grabbing the
younger man’s upper amrs in a gesture that made Tony stand ready to fight.
“She is right, Bruce” Clark told him calmly but determined. “You can’t
surrender yourself willingly to this man…”
Bruce shook his head closing his eyes.
“I won’t surrender myself…”
But Clark’s agony was such that didn’t let him wait for Bruce to finish his
sentence.
“Luthor is evil; he is dangerous; you didn’t hear what he was saying about you
to Dagget. You can’t go meet him; you can’t go to their trap willingly.”
Tony relaxed his aggressive stance hearing Clark and clenched his waist.
“I have to agree with him, Bruce! This is insane! You know Luthor and you
definitely know the League.”
Bruce sighed: Tony and Clark formed an alliance to oppose him...Nice!
“You’re overeacting! I know both Luthor and the League but this must be done to
make them reveal themselves or else they’ll continue to terrorize Gotham and
killing people.”
Selina marched to him, her jaw clenched.
“And to protect your city you’re gonna sacrifice yourself?!”
Bruce yanked his head huffing.
“Of course not, Selina!” he locked eyes with her; she was rasping. “They’ll
attempt an attack on me either way: in this way I’ll make it happen on my turns
and use the element of surprise. And I’ll have your backup” he arched his
eyebrows.
Superman had turned slightly his back trying to comprehend how his elation was
so easily turned into dread; Bruce pressed his lips on that sight.
“Many things can go awry…” Tony snapped piercing his friend with his eyes
ablaze.
“They know that we are your friends, eager to protect you and they probably
will try to draw us away leaving you exposed…” Clark said calm but tired.
“Exactly!” Tony gestured to Clark and Bruce wanted to smile for this discussion
had made those two ‘enemies’ allies. “They’ve done it again with me; what if
they manage to divide us?”
Bruce lowered his head but everyone could see the shine in his eyes; he had
provided for that too.
“They don’t know about my Queen…”
Selina blushed and it was really rare for her: that Bruce! Always got weird
reactions from her.
“That was the reason you wanted us to hide our friendship; especially,
Catwoman’s affiliation with both Bruce Wayne and Batman…” she crossed her arms.
He nodded.
“They know about Tony and Superman…”
Clark interrupted him.
“Bruce, Selina can know that I’m Clark Kent.”
Bruce nodded but Selina although intrigued by Superman’s true identity didn’t
have the mood to be shocked from the revelation.
“They know about Tony and Clark but they don’t know that you’ll be watching
me.”
Selina’s eyes were narrowed.
“You told me that Al Ghul knew about me and threatened you; how we can be sure
that he didn’t tell his successor?”
“Because from that night he caught me trying to flee him he never saw us
meeting again so he was persuaded that I, scared for your life, had cut every
connection with you. Which was true for two years…” he saw the girl grimacing
on the memory. “But even if he told to his successor, your return to Gotham was
secret and we kept it that way for them to believe that you’re away.”
He shook his head seeing his friend troubled and unconvinced.
“C’me on, Sel; we have done that before! We were always a duo!”
Her voice was hoarse.
“Always ending up with you sacrificing yourself and me watching you being
tortured!” she yelled fierce but with the glint of tears in her eyes.
Bruce hugged her affectionately and brought her head on his shoulder caressing
her hair.
“I’m sorry you witnessed all these horrors…”
Her laughter was muffled and Clark was tearful too.
“It’s not your fault, Bruce…But…” she raised her head to look him in the eyes
“please, don’t do that; there must be another way than risking your life.”
Bruce closed his eyes and sighed.
“This is the safest way.”
“For whom?!” Tony protested.
“For everyone, even for me. We know they won’t stop till they get me; they can
attack me suddenly at any time or place: they don’t care about innocents and a
sudden attack from them has more chances to succeed. Going to that meeting as
they want, I’ll draw them out for the attack only their attack will be in fact
dictated and controlled by us.”
However his friends didn’t share his tranquility and content.
“With you as the bait?” Clark cast him a side glance under his trademark raven
curl that made Bruce crave for his kiss. “That’s simply unacceptable!”
Gorgeous, cute or not now Bruce was pissed with Clark’s stubbornness; it was
unbelievable that he refused to understand while Clark was a hero that always
put people’s lives above his.
“The plan for Falcone’s downfall was risky too but it worked! If you knew you’d
have thwarted me then?”
Clark shook his head accepting the challenge because Bruce’s flames of eyes
made his body shiver: sweet Bruce was an irresistible turn on but his
irritation and fierce determination doubled the effect.
“You bet! I’d have just grabbed you from Falcone and taken you somewhere safe!”
Tony felt an idiot for not doing the same when Bruce revealed his identity and
let him risk his life.
Bruce jerked his hands exasperated hearing Clark and deciphering Tony’s
expression.
“You’re unbelievable! Both of you! You’d have just grabbed me and let all hell
be loose! You forget that I’m not powerless and defenceless and that our
primary responsibility is people’s lives!” his voice was near Batman’s solemn
growl and then he softened his tone. “I have you on my side and that makes me
sure that we’ll make it again. Besides, I’ve already called Luthor and arranged
the meeting. Alea iacta est.”
Selina hissed.
“You what?! You’re a stubborn brat! You don’t listen to anyone, right?!”
Superman came to tower the younger man stabbing him with his eyes. Yet Bruce’s
beautiful defiance made him almost lose his anger which wasn’t so
solid anyways.
“You can always call and cancel it.”
Bruce yanked his head and his eyes glimmered determined.
“No way!”
“You know latin?” Tony asked dumbfounded and his allies looked at him
exasperated. “What?” he asked innocently looking at them. “He never attended
school.”
Bruce rubbed his forehead unlocking his eyes from Clark’s.
“Along with the books Lucius gives me for business administration I try to
cover some other gaps...And Julius Ceasar was one of Ra’s’ favorites. Anyway,
there’s no chance I won’t go to that meeting; I won’t let the League’s threat
looming over Gotham and the people I love because of me! It’s the better way to
exploit the element of surprise and our knowledge but if you don’t want to be
part of that, fine! I’ll continue alone!”
Clark cupped Bruce’s chin and softly raised his head.
“You’re experiencing a migraine…” he brushed Bruce’s temple where hammers began
pound.
“Hardly a headache” Bruce answered flatly.
And then Clark did something that if he had thought it thoroughly he wouldn’t
have done  in front of Bruce’s friends. He kissed feathery softly Bruce’s
aching temple and felt the younger man closing his eyes relaxed.
“Your concussion is still healing and you want to risk your life…”
“If we stop arguing and focus on the plan, nobody will be in danger – we have
24 hours to perfectly organize every detail” Bruce answered calm but
determined.
Clark let Bruce’s chin and nodded.
“What’s the plan?” Tony asked grudgingly.
“It’s simple: I go to Luthor, they make their move and we take them. You, Tony,
will stay at the cave: you’ll be watching from afar and make sure that nobody
will threaten Alfred and Pepper till the attack” Tony’s brows knitted “and
Clark will be patroling from a distance – they believe him weak and ignore that
the special Kryptonite doesn’t affect him anymore so they'll use that
Kryptonite instead for the common and Clark won't have a problem; Selina will
be near. When they attempt their attack you’ll take them; whatever Luthor does,
you won’t make a move until his allies appear. I’m positive though that Luthor
will do the minimum so to not be connected with an attack on me.”
“Meaning?” Selina spat.
“Luthor is cunning; I’m sure he doesn’t trust his ally so he’ll stay away from
the action suspecting that Tate will try to ambush him.”
Tony frowned; so many perplexed intrigues…
“Why the League would want to do that?”
Bruce turned to his friend.
“They’ve already began the trapping by ‘stealing’ and using Luthor’s registered
weapons to execute the people in Gambol’s restaurant. This information may not
have been outed yet but Luthor is one suspicious and careful man; also, he has
a knack on smelling trouble.”
“Then maybe he backs on their plan to get you?” Selina asked.
Clark answered her.
“I know him: when he’s obsessed with his enemies goes to the end to destroy
them – and he considers Bruce his enemy.”
Bruce nodded.
“He’ll secure my capture yet he’ll remove me from his suite in order to send
the League away from him to get me; that way, he’ll achieve both my
neutralization and his disentanglement.”
Clark crossed his arms and grinded his teeth.
“So he once again will get away with this!”
But Bruce smirked sharply and shook his head his enchanting eyes shining.
“Not this time. I’ll wear Lucius’ eye lenses: they take the same texture with
the eye so they are undetectable and they work as nano-cameras transmitting
everything I see. Thus the proceedings in Luthor’s suite will be transmitted to
Jim and Harvey, supposedly courtesy of…Batman.”
His friends were goggling at him.
“So at the same time the League’s leader will be arrested, Luthor will be in
custody as well and after their arrests we start pulling S.H.I.E.L.D.’s and
League’s teeth.”
“How you’re sure that the League’s leader will indeed appear?” Tony asked.
Bruce crossed his arms and looked at him.
“Because she is already in Gotham watching her…pray.”
Tony licked his lips uncomfortable.
“And if this Tate has made arrangements so that in case of her arrest League
uses S.H.I.E.L.D.’s network for reprisals?” Selina asked.
“Fury and the Avengers minus Tony will take care of that: now we know every
hidden base and weapon they have.”
“I can vouch for the guys but not for Fury” Tony remarked.
But Bruce looked at him tranquil.
“He’ll be on our side too. If not he’ll be the first to go out of the game
arrested in secrecy by your team, Tony.”
Tony liked that option so he shrugged.
“You’ll have tracking system on you” that was what really concerned Clark.
“Only my watch, Clark; Luthor certainly has devices that detect bugs and if he
finds out, everything will be wasted.”
Tony crossed his arms and shook his head smirking.
“His devices can’t detect my little gadget…”
Bruce frowned.
“It’s an implant that as soon as it gets in the body adjusts to the molecular
level so that it doesn’t stand out as a foreign object.”
“Which makes it undetectable!” Selina beamed. “Now we’re talking! So we’ll be
able to track Bruce in any case.”
Tony nodded and put his hands on Bruce’s shoulders locking eyes with his
friend.
“I won’t lose you ever again…”
Bruce pressed his lips moved and nodded.
“And your genius” he said to him “will make plan B easier…”
Clark frrowned.
“Plan B?”
Selina lolled her head on the side.
“Bruce has always contingency plans. What’s the plan B? I hate your plan Bs”
she cocked an eyebrow remembering her friend’s plan B at the Haven.
Bruce smiled.
“If for any reason things go awry, the League will believe that they have won
which will be an excellent diversion for your final attack which should be at
all fronts at once.”
Superman felt an explosion in him that knew it was what the other two was
feeling too.
“Go awry means that they’ll get you…”
“Yes” Bruce answered completely nonchalant making the others mad. “It’s a
possibility we can’t rule out so we must be prepared.”
“This isn’t the plan B this is a disaster!” Tony jerked his hand.
Bruce shook his head.
“They know about your love and they’ll try to drive you away from Gotham.
Selina will be there even if GCPD fails. However, if anything turns out not as
we wanted, we must face it with tranquillity and transformed it to asset for
us: the biggest asset in a war is when your enemy believes you defeated while
you are ready to launch your final attack in the key points of his lines.”
Tony clenched his waist and shook his lowered head.
“Do you realize that that asset includes you in their clutches?” he didn’t want
even to utter what they could do to Bruce; he shivered without even thinking
the possibilities.
“Of course and I want you to be calm if that happens; I’ll have your tracking
implant, Tony.”
Clark couldn’t believe that they were chatting nonchalant the possibility of
letting Bruce fall in the League’s hands. His fists clenched on their own as
his jaw and his guts burnt urging him to snatch Bruce to save him from his own
bravery. Yet he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply; he knew he shouldn’t do
that.
“And if for any reason the implant stops giving us your position?” Selina
remarked rubbing her forehead.
Bruce looked at her scared eyes and gulped - it was like the night she watched
Chill rape him on the butcer’s table. He brushed her upper arms trying to
comfort her.
“Everything will be fine, Sel; we know their headquarters, their bases and
their weapon storages. You’ll find me. Don’t forget that we have a whole army
of super heroes with us now.”
“And if we can’t find you?” she insisted. “We’ll still wage an attack while
you’ll be at their mercy and revenge?”
Bruce was determined.
“Of course.”
Clark felt his hair rising; launching an attack while Bruce would be at the
hands of the enemy was unthinkable and made already his heart clench.
Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose taking in his friends’ sullen expressions.
The hammers in his skull hit more savagely.
“Listen, all of you will be covering me: I’ll be the most heavily protected man
in the planet. Also, we know what they’re going to do and we have revealed all
their secrets to strike them effectively. If I don’t go to that meeting we’ll
be waiting for their attack without knowing where that will be or the
casualties. And if we make our operation without exposing their leaders, we’ll
reveal our knowledge and they’ll have the chance to fight back and bloodshed
the world.”
Tony nodded.
“We understand that yet you don’t have to do this.”
Bruce shook his head frustrated and clutched his forehead.
“This is getting… It’s me they want, Tony! They’re planning this for some time
urging Luthor to act the kind and remorseful; I’ll give them what they want
only they won’t suspect that we know. And” his eyes sparkled “I’m Batman, for
pity’s sake! I can fight and defend myself.”
“Not when you’re Bruce Wayne…” Clark retorted gloom.
Bruce stared at him compassionately but still a bit pissed; he twisted his
mouth.
“I have no inhibition in fighting the League openly.”
Bruce realized that this appeased somewhat their fears.
“When we reached the final stage of dethroning Falcone you trusted me and we
made it. You don’t trust me now?”
Tony leaned on his arm that was clutching the bench and shook his head.
“Of course we do and we know that the odds for beating them are in our favor
but we don’t want you in such danger.”
Bruce arched his eyebrows.
“Then…protect me! Three superheroes at my guard and the Avengers standing by”
he pouted his lips. “You must be really incompetent to let anything happen to
me!”
On that Tony laughed loudly and the other two did the same, somewhat relieved.
“So Selina is your Queen” Tony continued the lightening of the mood. “The guy
here” he gestured to Superman “is – his dimensions concerned – your Rook -
Tower; what about me?”
Bruce tapped his lips.
“You’re definitely a hard case…Mmm…The Bishop?”
Tony rolled his eyes on that and gestured to himself moving his eyebrows
suggestively.
“That sinful body convinces you for a cleric?”
Bruce chuckled and Clark forgot his fears in that paralyzing melody.
“Definitely not! And since Batman will be seen roaming Gotham thanks to Lucius’
holograms, you’ll be my Knight” he winked. “You have the shining armor…”
Tony pouted and scratched his head.
“Thankfully, it’s a horse or Peps would have been justified for calling me an
ass…I hope you don’t expect me moving in L’s.”
Bruce regarded him thoughtful.
“Don’t give me ideas…” he took a deep breath. “Now Selina has the right to know
what you two do.”
Selina furrowed her brows and narrowed her eyes.
“What now?” she snapped.
“There’s a demon that follows me around.”
Selina’s eyes bulged and she shook her head.
“You're kidding me! Why all the evil in the world has to target you?” Bruce
hushed her but it was too late. “A demon?”
A silver tray clanged on the cave’s stone floor and four glasses shattered.
***** Chapter 62 *****
Realizing that everyone’s eyes were on him Alfred forced himself to regain his
composed demeanor and squatted graciously to pick the tray.
“Pardon me, I didn’t mean to overhear your discussion” he said with his usual
cool voice which was a very difficult task with his young master standing right
before him his eyes full of concern.
The last thing Bruce wanted was Alfred hearing that a demon threatened him; his
butler’s effort to hide his distress was heartbreaking but Bruce wasn’t fooled.
He took the tray and threw it away for being able to hold Alfred’s both hands
and led him to sit on a stool.
The other three watched numbed as Bruce kneeled before Alfred holding the
wrinkled hands in his and his worried eyes locked with Alfred’s.
“It’s alright, Alfred: I’ve got the control…” his voice was low and soft.
“A demon, Master Bruce?” seeing Bruce kneeled before him looking at him with
such affection he lost his trademark composure and his voice cracked; he
couldn’t believe that his young master was again in danger when everything
seemed to be right again...and a demon? That was preposterous, horrible: why
this kid had to suffer so much?
Bruce closed his eyes for a second.
“Alfred, you know that I’m a Chimera, right?” he inquired calmly.
Three pairs of eyes widened at the word; though only Tony knew what the word
meant the other two were just puzzled from the new revelation. Alfred nodded.
“Indeed; it was when you were just an infant that the doctors found out...but I
don’t understand what this has to do with…” his eloquence was suddenly lost.
“I’m afraid that the problem begins from there: from the two different sets of
DNA in me…”
Bruce was totally absorbed in Alfred and didn’t take in Clark’s and Selina’s
narrowed eyes. He began narrating the story about the supposed DNA of Lilith
and that of the Nemesis’ priest; he explained who Lilith was, her death and
Bagdana’s quest through the ages to find his mate’s descendant with Lilith’s
mark. Wishing mentally that this was the last time he had to retell the story.
Alfred’s eyes shone with realisation.
“The small leaf on your left big toe…” he whispered and Bruce nodded.
“Ra’s Al Ghul had seen this mark, he knew the story and notified the demon
about me - for achieving his own goals” he didn’t want to tell Alfred that Ra’s
gave him to Bagdana for copulating - not that his butler wouldn’t understand.
Alfred realized his young master’s hesitation and didn’t insist on learning the
horrific - he was sure - details.
“I had seen that man speaking to you in Saint Mary’s Park when you were just a
toddler but I wasn’t aware that he knew already about the mark - he couldn’t
have known after the murders of your parents since Falcone had already chopped
your toe.”
Bruce nodded.
Selina hated to interrupt but she had to ask; she wanted to know everything
that might influense her friend’s life.
“And the other DNA?”
He recounted what Cassandra had told him.
“And the Black Butterfly really protects you from him?” Selina asked with
narrowed eyes.
Bruce looked at Alfred’s eyes.
“The diamond protects me and enables me to resist and fight him” he said
wanting to reassure his butler. “I have it always on me” he held out the pouch.
Alfred nodded.
“But how would you eradicate his threat once and for all, sir?” Alfred’s eyes
searched calmly the youth’s eyes for reassurance that there was hope.
Bruce understood his agony and bit his lower lip.
“I’m working it, Alfred” he smiled.
Alfred cupped Bruce’s hand and patted it reflecting his smile.
“Everything will be fine, right, sir?”
Bruce nodded giving a tight smile to the older man.
“Don’t worry, Alfred: I have so many people around me protecting me that
nothing can go wrong.”
Alfred rose elegantly and Bruce followed his move relieved seeing the kind man
calm again.
“Forgive my outburst, young lady and gentlemen” he bowed his head. “If you’ll
excuse me now, I shall bring you some tea and biscuits.”
Bruce followed with his eyes Alfred’s proud posture till the lift and after it
began ascending he ran his hand in his locks. Tony walked to him.
“A Chimera?”
“Yeah…” he answered pinching the bridge of his nose. “Like the mythological
monster…”
 
Luthor was gazing at Gotham’s skyline from the huge but not whole wall - as he
preferred - window of his office in the presidential suite of the Grand Hotel
Palace. A smirk was engraved in his face and his grey eyes glimmered with the
quality of ice.
“Very close now…” he murmured.
Mercy Graves, his loyal bodyguard-driver entered silently and approached him.
“Do you really trust them?”
Luthor didn’t turn; after all he could see her reflection on the window pane.
He gave a wide grin.
“Of course not; I never trusted Ra’s Al Ghul and even more that arrogant bitch.
I collaborated for many years with her father but I always had the feeling that
at any time he was about to backstab me: you see, that loonatic believed he was
some kind of Messiah who cleaned the world from scum. However he was affiliated
with Falcone and helped me in my not-so-acceptable business. I was very glad
having his collaboration but I was always ready for his dagger. Now with that
woman even more.”
Mercy inclined her head.
“Then why you accepted to meet Wayne? This is her plan.”
Luthor half turned his head to regard her.
“Exactly.”
“It’s clearly a trap.”
Luthor pressed his lips thoughtful.
“It may be and it may be not. She definitely plans to get the boy tomorrow
through me. Yet” he raised his eyebrows “this doesn’t stop her from attempting
to trap me.”
Mercy frowned.
“Why are you following her plan then?”
Luthor walked to the rich mini bar and filled a flute with champagne which
sipped satisfied.
“Because I want Wayne out of the game and punished...and maybe I’ll get my
little piece too.”
His bodyguard narrowed her eyes.
“You could just order his death.”
He downed a big gulp of liquid and pointed his index finger.
“And I’d have her assassins waiting me at every corner. No, Mercy; I’ll follow
her plan. Besides her purpose coincides with mine.”
Mercy pressed her foot on the floor and crossed her arms.
“Allowing her to trap you?”
Luthor sniggered.
“No, dear...I’m not a fool: I’ll change a tiny bit the rules of the game. Call
the boys to be ready.”
Mercy frowned.
“I thought she wanted you and me taking Wayne to her.”
Luthor nodded and drank again.
“Exactly: she wanted.”
Mercy smirked.
“She’ll be furious…”
Luthor snorted.
“She wouldn’t want to risk losing my alliance since I know things about her
little organization; also, this way she’ll understand that I’m a worthy ally
that she wouldn’t want to see turning into an enemy so she’d better stay put on
her part of the deal. Besides I have great allies in the other end of the law
too. And the fact that I won’t be connected with Wayne’s kidnapping will give
me the space to maneuver…”
“Stark will be outraged…”
Luthor tittered.
“Yes, he’ll be...And it’ll be really painful for him suspecting, knowing I had
a part but not be able to prove it...Yet the icing of the cake will be
Superman’s despair losing his baby!” his eyes flamed.
 
Rachel was staring at the building of Boston’s police department; she was
inside her car parked opposite the building. Evening had moved on and scarcely
someone entered or left the building; she chose that time of the day exactly
for that. She was determined to surrender herself and testify every crime
Jackie had done yet she just sat there almost for half an hour and hated
herself for that.
It was the best solution: both for her battered conscience and Harvey: he
didn’t deserve to be destroyed because Joker wanted to have fun and she didn’t
mind playing with his feelings and life.
She opened her smartphone and cast a last glance cursing: how persistent! Both
of them… Tens of calls from Harvey who had her number and from Bruce who
didn’t...It wasn’t difficult to find her number with his connections. She knew
what they want: Harvey some answers and Bruce to help her even though she
couldn’t be helped; she didn’t deserve to be helped.
She yanked her head and grunted: that Bruce! How was it possible this man
caring so much about others while nobody cared for him during his captivity? He
should have been partying all day long, spending money and not giving a damn
about those Gothamites that let him rot in Falcone’s hands. It wasn’t weird
that Joker took an interest in him and wanted to play and break him. And now he
wanted to help her...She chuckled and punched her smartphone cracking the
screen.
She stretched her hand to the door’s handle but then images of Harvey flooded
her mind: his cheerful laughter, his seriousness and determination when things
were important, his puppy eyes when looked at her with total surrender, his
body on her at her couch. How beautiful was the park from their table at the
cafe…
She shook her head and grinded her teeth, opening the door and popping out
determined: this kind of life wasn’t for her.
She pushed the door to close and her eyes stupidly fell on the Eeyore who was
looking at her sad and sweet…
“ As long as you have that I’ll be with you no matter what…”
She opened the door and took the stuffed animal to stash it to her bag: she
didn’t want to burden Bruce with her presence but she wanted him with her...And
that cute fluffy animal would remind her of that little girl, the sick, weak
little girl who was still able to feel.That girl would have been very happy to
have Harvey love her and would have made him happy...And Bruce would have been
proud of her.
She raised her eyes to the opposing building and began walking: Bruce will be
proud for her even now. And Harvey...Don’t think about him...And then she
remembered that night at the Haven’s atrium when Joker shot Harvey, how numb
she felt and surprised when a man rushed in front of him as a shield and took
the bullet. How devastated Harvey was when he held the man in his embrace
dreading that he’ll die. His father will die...Thankfully Bruce came and coaxed
Joker to let the man go.
And Harvey trusted her with his greatest secret: that this man was his father.
Harvey wanted to introduce her to his father as a first step to a marriage.
She had reached the pavement in front of the department and was ready to step
inside but then she frowned: she hadn’t told Joker about Harvey’s father but
the bastard was too smart; he surely had noticed how distraught the DA was. And
many of Joker’s minions were still loose – especially, that Shiff...and knowing
Joker he surely had them watching the public figures of Gotham especially
Harvey.
Joker definitely wasn’t done yet: he wanted Bruce and when he wanted something
he didn’t stop till he got it. And the fact he witnessed Harvey’s affection for
the ‘stranger’ at the party filled her with dread. She had to warn Harvey that
Joker never stopped plotting and that he had the men to create trouble, serious
trouble…
She turned on her heels and stormed to her car feeling uncomfortable on the
perspective of meeting again Harvey and telling him the truth about her and
Joker. As she sat at the driver’s seat and ignited the engine she decided that
she’d warn Bruce instead. She took her smartphone and tried to make a call but
her previous punch had broken it down.
“Fuck!” she threw it on the floor and looked eagerly at the street for a phone
booth.
She halted the car and took the leather agenda from her purse: thankfully, on a
whim she had written down the number of the Manor. Rachel burst out of her car
and in the booth; she called the number wishing Bruce was there: it was late
evening and he might not do many night outings but still you never knew.
A poised, polite, familiar even after so many years voice answered her call.
“Wayne Manor, may I help you?”
“Hi, Alfred” she said as if her life went years back. “Is Bruce there? I need
to talk to him...It’s Rachel…” her voice was too anxious.
“I’ll connect you right away, Miss Dawes” Alfred’s tranquillity was a huge
comfort and Rachel was intrigued that Alfred knew her surname but she was aware
he was a very intelligent man; She closed her eyes waiting and tapped her
fingers on the phone.
“Rachel, at last! Where are you? I was calling you…”
Bruce was relieved and so honest in his joy that Rachel’s cold body warmed up.
All of a sudden she felt the urge to open her heart to him, to tell him more
things, to chat with him like the old days. Yet things were pressing.
“I know, Bruce. I, I’m at Boston…”
“Listen, Rachel: don’t do anything rush. Just wait and we’ll do everything
together; I’m a bit busy right now but if you…”
Rachel shook her head.
“Bruce, Joker won’t stay in prison: he definitely plans something. He is
obsessed with you and nothing will stop him. One of his head thugs is free and
they were whispering things all the time. You need to be careful and you must
alert Harvey that Joker will use his father against him; he surely noticed how
devastated Harvey was that night at the party and he suspects: he is evilly
clever, Bruce” she told everything in a breath.
Bruce remained silent for a second.
“You told him?”
“Hell, no, Bruce! But he is so smart...and dangerous. You don’t know him…But
you must alert the police; you must take this seriously, Bruce” she was almost
yelling.
“Rachel, calm down” his voice was deep and calm and really transmitted
tranquillity to her. “Of course it’s serious; I experienced Joker first hand.
I’ll alert Harvey and the police.”
Rachel inhaled deeply.
“I’m coming to Gotham.”
“No, Rachel; you’d better stay at Boston till things get clear. You’ll be safer
there: maybe Joker suspects that you helped me.”
Rachel moved her foot nervously and rubbed her forehead: she couldn’t believe
that she was going to say that:
“I want to come to Gotham.”
Bruce from the other end sighed.
“I also want you to return, Rachel but your safety is the priority here. As
soon as things get back to normal I’ll come myself to bring you home. But you
must be patient, dear…”
Rachel closed her eyes, she wasn’t sure about what she’d do but for now she
needed to reassure Bruce.
“OK, Bruce. Be careful, please.”
“Who was that?” Selina asked jumping from the bench she was sat.
His friends were still there discussing the details of the next day.
“Rachel, a childhood friend” Bruce answered.
Tony cocked an eyebrow.
“Rachel? As in Rachel Dawes? The personal assistant of Napier aka Joker?”
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose nodding.
“And you were childhood friends?” Clark inquired.
Bruce looked at him.
“Yes. Clark, and after what she told me I want you to keep an eye on MCU and
I’ll alert Jim and Harvey.”
“The cell I made is unbreakable!” Tony protested.
“You never know with that monster” Selina answered.
“This Rachel told you something concrete?” Clark asked frowned. “Because I
don’t want to let you out of my sight.”
Bruce smiled.
“Your powers enable you to watch both places at once and intervene where you
need to.”
Superman jerked his hands in the air.
“And if something happens there when I must get to you?”
Now Bruce became dead serious and his eyes shone determined.
“Civilian lives are always our priority” and taking in Clark’s angry eyes
softened “I’ll have Tony and Selina watching me and I’m not defenseless.”
Clark grunted but then his iphone vibrated.
“It’s Perry; I have to send him my correspondence.”
Bruce nodded seeing in Clark’s expression his desire to bid him a more intimate
goodbye and pressed his lips, his eyes filled with last night’s love and
promises of another chance. Clark blushed and gave a shy smile before taking
off.
“I must go too, little guy; I’ll meet Lucius for reviewing what we know about
the weapons and their neutralization and we’ll wait you to come to put the
implant.”
Bruce nodded.
“Thank you, Tony but the implant has to wait till tomorrow morning: I have to
contact Fury - expect an urgent call from him -” Tony rolled his eyes and
snorted “and then I must inform Jim and Harvey, give them the data about Luthor
and the League and patrol the city.”
Selina cocked an eyebrow and approached with crossed arms.
“Gotham is dead quiet; the scum have retreated in their holes after the
execution of the big three - they know that something horrible approaches and
are scared shitless.”
“That doesn’t mean that the small time criminals won’t take advantage of that
to gain whatever they can…”
Tony nodded with a knowing expression and his eyes were a bit sad: Bruce
wouldn’t take a break even when a crucial confrontation was ahead. He patted
him on the shoulder.
“If you need anything call me.”
“Okay, Tony.”
He watched his friend leaving and Tony winked grinning when the door of the
lift closed.
Bruce returned to the computer screens to set his data in order; also, he had
to figure the security of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s systems to ‘break into’ later.
Selina slithered beside him and slipped a wrapped sandwich to his hand. Bruce
raised his eyes smiling and cupped her hand.
“I know that now you have Alfred and many people who care and provide for you
but still...sometimes the past comes back…” she chuckled. “And the past habits
take the lead.”
Bruce tightened softly his grip and pressed his lips.
“You know you’re truly the queen of my heart…”
She shook her head playfully.
“Naaaah...There is a king in there…”
Bruce turned a soft red.
“I know you’re busy and I have to leave too yet first I want to give you
something…” she was awkwardly shy and Bruce looked at her puzzled.
She took a deep breath and pulled out of her jacket’s inner pocket a framed
picture.
“It’s for you...I never gave you a gift…”
Bruce lolled his head at the side touched.
“Your presence was and is the greatest gift…” he took the frame and gasped, his
eyes watering instantly.
It wasn’t a photo; it was a beautiful painting better than a photo. Hero was
looking at him again with his one half -blind eye; the kitten was nestled in
Bruce’s small chest. It was exactly as he remembered the kitten: white with
brown ears and a pink nose with a brownish small smudge, his half blind eye a
shining blue...Bruce felt his fluffy fur again. He brushed the kitten
affectionately under Selina’s anxious eyes.
“It’s perfect, Selina; like he’s still here...You painted it?”
She nodded.
“I was thinking that we don’t have a picture of him and I decided to draw him
and give it to you” she chuckled “I thought that you’d want to have him.”
Bruce nodded.
“Thank you, Selina: you’re a blessing!” he wiped the tear that leaked from his
eye. “Poor little fella! You know, I think he’s happy now…” he was lost for a
minute and cleared his throat. “You’ve got talent; you should cultivate it.”
But Selina had already turned her back and headed to the cave’s exit swaying
her ponytail.
“No way, handsome!” she cast him a sideways glance. “Maybe when I retire...for
the time being I prefer to cultivate my other...talents!” she winked and with
an impressive somersault disappeared behind the waterfall.
Bruce smiled fondly to her direction and looked at his kitten feeling again
like the weak, frightened boy who found a new friend that comforted him with
one single meow. He pressed the framed painting to his chest to relive the same
warmth and comfort as then.
 
Harvey was gazing the city from the MCU’s rooftop neglecting Jim Gordon who had
received the same message to wait there. The single ‘B’ at the end of the
message was enough to divulge the sender’s ID since there was no case they’d
locate the number and thus the true identity of the man.
However, Batman’s true identity was the least of his concerns. First, Rachel’s
disappearance with that ridiculous letter and now he didn’t find his father
when he returned home. Okay, the man wasn’t a prisoner and he had recuperated
enough to do some errands till he was ready to return to his job but still
Harvey these few days was used to find the man there waiting for him
affectionate, happy to see him and caring: a comfort in all this sudden
madness.
It was as if a ray of light from his carefree - though ignorant childhood -
came again to give him a bit of that innocence, of that sense of home. And all
this wasn’t there as he opened the door today.
He sighed; he hoped that when he’ll return later his father would be there
waiting for him because poor Steve couldn’t sleep before seeing his son back
home. His father’s happiness was so obvious; it emanated from him, from his
touched eyes.
And Bruce Wayne’s call telling him to be careful, he and his father, because
Joker might be up to something. When he asked how he knew, Bruce told him that
during his captivity a member of Joker’s gang helped him and regretted his part
in the loonatic’s crimes. Harvey asked from him to bring him in contact with
the man but he was adamant claiming it wasn’t possible for the time being.
Jim had already tightened the security around MCU as discreetly as possible:
there wasn’t a chance Joker would escape Tony Stark’s cell yet if his thugs
attacked the building many people might get in danger. He also had asked the
name of Wayne’s informant but the youth refused to tell reassuring him that the
informant would testify against Joker.
Of course he as Harvey were pissed from the billionaire’s refusal to reveal his
source yet the idea of arresting Bruce to force him tell them a name was
gruesome for both. So they decided to show trust to him and wait: after all,
some caution could always be used in the case of Joker.
Absorbed as they were in their thoughts, literary jumped startled when Batman’s
throaty voice whispered on their backs.
“I have info about the murders in Gambol’s restaurant.”
Jim pushed his glasses on his nose trying to catch his breath.
“You must stop this: I don’t want to die from a heart attack…”
Harvey put his hands on his waist, his expression morose.
“Where’s that info?” he asked blatantly and Batman turned to him stern.
Jim frowned.
“We’re sure that it’s a new player: the underworld is terrorized from the
menace above their heads.”
Batman nodded.
“Actually, is a very old player.”
Jim narrowed his eyes and Harvey snapped.
“So give us your knowledge to bust them and get over with that! Citizens are
panicked!”
Batman’s frown wasn’t visible yet you could feel it.
“You too.”
Harvey closed his eyes and shook his head as Jim turned to him.
“I just want to end that insecurity ASAP; I don’t like Katanas hanging above my
city threatening innocent people…”
Batman knew that Harvey was upset both from Rachel’s departure and Bruce’s
warning.
“You need to be vigilant” he growled.
“We need your damn info to act ASAP!” Harvey burst out.
Batman cast him an artificial glare that still passed his message.
“Calm down…Your nervousness isn’t a good advisor.” He gave each a USB flash
disk. “The contents are locked and will unlock tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow?’’ Jim asked puzzled.
Harvey rubbed his forehead shaking his head frustrated.
“You and Wayne play with riddles and demand from us to believe you.”
Jim raised his palms in a calming gesture.
“Batman always knows his thing. Why tomorrow?” he inquired calmly.
“Because earlier it would be useless.”
“Do you have any intelligence about Joker planning something?” Harvey asked
calmer.
“Joker needs caution: you need to be ready for anything.”
“We can transfer him at Blackgate Prison or Arkham” Jim offered.
“Do you trust them?” Batman asked.
Jim looked at the man’s lenses and shook his head.
“Unfortunately no.”
Harvey turned to Jim, gesturing to the air.
“Why is he keeping us in the dark? Are we allies or not?”
“He has his purpose…I guess” Jim shrugged.
“Which he can’t share with us?”
Both men turned to Batman but they were met with the void. Harvey rolled his
eyes and sighed.
“What are we doing now?”
Jim shrugged.
“Our jobs of course…we have our own search going on and the Department of
Defense will send the answer to our inquiry at any moment” he passed the young
DA towards the inside of the building.
 
It was Fury’s habit to work till late at his office in New York’s headquarters;
exactly as tonight. Most agents had left and only agent Hill remained to do the
night shift and the security guards.
He was perusing the latest reports of agents from various parts of the world
about criminality rates and weird incidents that might indicate sightings of
people with extraordinary skills and powers. Also, he got an official from the
board of directors asking him to make a list with the agents all over the
world, their qualifications, specialties and details about their personal lives
- all in all, they want him to sketch a detailed profile for their agents.
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s director didn’t like that; fine, military organizations keep
files of their members and their families yet “detailed profile” was a vague
expression and frankly he was reluctant to give so many sensitive info to
people he didn’t know. Of course every director had access to the files of the
employees in his personal archive since the organization didn’t keep one
official database yet they now asked him to give them his personal knowledge
about the men and women working for them - no other director ever appeared to
the personnel or to him.
Sometimes Fury felt like living in a haunted house and that fueled his existing
doubts...But he continued to believe in what they were doing, in controlling
people with extraordinary powers to channel their energy into fighting crime;
in protecting the world from evil and establishing justice.
He rubbed his cheeks and sipped his black coffee: he had to start his report on
the agents despite the hollow feeling in his guts. Every war needed
compromises...
As he compromised his dream to recruit Batman after the fiasco of his mission
to trap Wayne: he had stayed an impassive spectator to Joker abusing an already
traumatized young man, blinded by his belief that he was Batman. He had devoted
his entire life in protecting people from criminals and his obsession let him
permit that madman to injure Bruce. The realization of what he had done made
him give up on the fascinating vigilante.
No sooner had he began writing when everything went down. Fury came out of his
office to see what had happened and found the hall with the whole wall screens
normal as ever; agent Hill turned to him sensing his agitation. He made an
‘okay’ gesture and returned to his office frowning because a collapse in energy
was impossible since S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters had perpetual energy from a
system Bruce Banner supplied them. Maybe that huge screen PC he finally
accepted to use was a junk and shorted his office’s system.
He sat at his chair and tapped his fingers on the desk.
“Colonel Fury” a grave growl from his computer startled him and when he leaned
towards the screen he was faced with the Dark Knight’s cowled head his
artificial glare piercing him.
Fury was a tough veteran, unfazed by danger and pain but seeing his ‘Holy
Grail’ from up close made his spine shudder.
“How?” he whispered. “Our system is protected by extreme security…”
Batman’s lips formed a tight line.
“You care about ‘how’ or ‘why’?” he snapped.
Fury licked his lips; after his fruitless, frustrating quest for the man, after
his willing resignation, the evasive vigilante came to him!
“Holy..!” he couldn’t restrain himself but then his sharp mind began working
realizing that there must be a really good reason for Batman to seek him. “It
must be something really important to make you contact me while you didn’t want
even a word with me” his smug tone returned and he cocked an eyebrow. “I gather
it’s not for joining the S.H.I.E.L.D.” Batman remained expressionless. “Then?”
Fury thought that Batman’s lenses shone more intensely.
“Your entire life was devoted in chasing the League of Shadows: now you have
the chance to squash them” he was completely poised while Fury had to hold the
arms of his chair.
“So you’re indeed the boy Ra’s Al Ghul took in and trained...among other
things…” Batman remained expressionless. “You’re an insider” Fury’s one eye
sparkled greedily.
“Actually, you’re the insider.”
Fury frowned.
“Speak…” he spat with a knot forming in his guts; this was crazy: he an
insider? Yet Batman wasn’t a man of empty sayings.
“All this time you work for them” Batman dropped his bomb since Fury asked it
and caught him before protesting. “S.H.I.E.L.D is the League of Shadows.”
Fury stayed numb, his eye widened in shock, his knees collapsing; it was one
happy coincidence he was seated.
Batman stared at him taking in and studying the director’s reactions.
“That...that simply can’t be…” the veteran whispered. “There must be some
mistake” he shook his head.
“How many of the other directors you know?” and seeing Fury’s blank expression
nodded. “Luthor’s stolen weapons were used by the League in the ‘big three
massacre’ in Gotham.”
Fury rubbed his chin.
“This doesn’t prove…”
“How many locations of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s ammunition storages do you know?”
Batman’s husky voice was calm and confident and Fury understood that he had
done an exhausting investigation. And it was true that nobody not even he knew
the locations where the weapons were stored; he just knew their headquarters
around the globe because he personally had conducted the interviews and chose
the agents. He had constant communication with the regional heads and the
agents but nothing on the inner core of the organization.
“None” he admitted.
“The League of Shadows’ archives include the entire net of weapon storages,
headquarters and foundations run by S.H.I.E.L.D. They are under the code
‘project egis’: a project with the goal of creating a powerful army of men and
women with extraordinary skills and gaining the trust of the governments all
over the world pretending to fight evil but in fact forcing their order.”
In the screen, two world maps emerged each bearing twinkling spots the first in
the cities where the S.H.I.E.L.D. had its headquarters and foundations and the
second with the establishments of the project ‘egis’. Fury blinked as the two
world maps overlapped and the spots matched.
The director rushed to pull the beeper from his pocket. He had to alert the
Avengers. Batman was satisfied from Fury’s reaction.
“Your beeper isn’t working. I disabled it as the system inside your office
because they send info to them. Use your civilian cell to call their private
numbers; tell them to deactivate their beepers and come here; send everyone in
the building away. In the main hall, I’ll provide you with more info after
disabling S.H.I.E.L.D.’s surveillance system.”
Fury took his civilian cell and raised an eyebrow.
“Do I need to call Stark too?” he asked smugly and Batman understood that the
veteran never really gave up on his suspicions.
“He resigned from the Avengers?” he answered nonchalant.
In no more than fifteen minutes the Avengers stood in the empty main hall
gaping at Batman’s imposing figure in the whole wall screen speaking with Fury.
Tony cocked an eyebrow and huffed.
“Do we have a new member? I buy the drinks for the welcome party!”
Fury turned to him stern though deep inside he still had the suspicion that
Stark and Batman were playing an act.
“Things are serious, Stark!”
Tony scratched his head.
“When they aren’t?” he snorted.
“Why we had to deactivate our beepers?” Steve asked.
“Because you are watched” Batman cast them a solemn artificial stare.
Natasha walked furiously towards the screen her eyebrows in a tight frown.
“Who watches us? Is there a breach in security except your profound intrusion?”
Batman lolled slightly his head on the side to regard her.
“No, the only breach is mine.”
“How did you hack my security system?” Dr. Banner forgot his shyness in favor
of his amazement. “I upgraded it recently.”
Tony fought the urge to laugh or at least snort or smirk: Hulk-y didn’t know
his little guy.
“We can look for Batman’s secret identity in the best hackers of the world or
at the computer science graduates” Natasha offered smugly.
Thor marched closer.
“Or Valkyries!”
Batman’s stare became intense.
“Valkyries were female.”
“Indeed” Thor blushed. “But you could be their son.”
Bruce rolled his eyes mentally: after Lilith and Nemesis’ priest that was the
only thing he needed: being also connected with Valkyries! He saw the same
thought in Tony’s blank expression.
Fury raised his hands to stop everything.
“We are watched by S.H.I.E.L.D.” he said grimly.
Captain America crossed his arms.
“When in an army your superiors need to now your exact location.”
“They watch and steal your moves, your skills, powers or technology” Batman
inclined his head towards Tony. “A new villain called Iron Monger made an
appearance at Gotham and his armor is a replica of Iron Man.”
Tony arched his eyebrows sarcastic.
“He attacked me and my friend Bruce Wayne so I’m aware of that, dude; but you
want to tell us that this is connected with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s spying?”
Batman nodded.
“S.H.I.E.L.D. is in fact the League of Shadows” he said and Fury rubbed his
chin.
Each of the Avengers stared dumbfounded and disbelievingly at the Dark Knight:
they had heard vague things about the legendary terrorist group.
“S.H.I.E.L.D. is the League’s greatest project: recruiting and misleading
superpowered people into fighting for them persuaded that they fight
injustice.”
“You mean that I’m serving evil all this time?!” Thor gasped and his hammer
sparked.
“All of us were fighting for the most dangerous group in the world? But we
didn’t do something wrong!” Captain America snapped.
Batman was calm.
“Because it’s still early; after they’d gain your trust, your missions would
have become obscure, the line between moral and immoral confused. And even if
someone of you tried to resist their will, they’d have his or her secrets at
their disposal to destroy him or her and use them to create another compliant
warrior.”
“I didn’t undergo all this chemical shit and medical experiments to be a
terrorist without my knowledge!” Captain clenched his teeth and raised his
fist.
“I’m in the worst position here, soldier” Tony intervened. “They already stole
my technology and used it against me and my friend.”
Black Widow however was sceptical and looked suspiciously at Batman.
“How do you know?”
Batman yanked slightly his head.
“I stole their secret database and deciphered it” Natasha cocked an eyebrow:
she shared Fury’s belief that Batman was trained by the League, maybe a member
who abandoned the group. “I have intelligence about their weaponry – modern and
ancient -, the locations of their ammunition storages and their headquarters.”
“And where does the S.H.I.E.L.D. come to this?” Banner asked trying to find an
escape from the dreadful revelation.
“League’s project ‘egis’.”
He showed them what Fury had already seen and further details proving
undoubtedly that S.H.I.E.L.D. and League was the same.
Everyone was shocked and outraged, goggling at the flood of data. Dr. Banner
turned a pale shade of green.
“I have given them weapon of the latest technology! I have created their
operational and defense system! Those bastards!” his jaw was clenched and his
eyes on fire. “They watch us right now!” his voice hardened.
“I disabled their surveillance system into giving normal feeding; your beepers
are for now deactivated but it must be activated again to not raise suspicions.
Dr. Banner, you know how to destroy your weapons, plus we know where they keep
them. Also, the fact you provided their various operational systems is a huge
asset to defeat them” Batman’s voice was completely calm and confident which
transferred peace to the unstable Dr. Banner who breathed easier.
Batman locked his lenses on Banner’s still stormy eyes.
“There’s no other catastrophe there, Dr. Banner, except theirs.”
“What about him?” Black Widow cast a sideways glance to Fury. “Can we trust
him?”
Fury clenched his teeth but he couldn’t blame her.
“He recruited us and made it sure that we won’t disobey their orders” Steve
said.
Tony nodded.
“He tried to trap my friend putting his life in danger.”
Fury didn’t like to apologize.
“I was fooled too; I didn’t know the truth: If I was one of them you wouldn’t
be here now and the League would already know.”
“He isn’t a League member” Batman’s grave voice affirmed. “He was one of the
heads in last February’s operation in Gotham that thwarted their plans in the
city.”
He could see that they weren’t fully convinced but Thor yanked his head
determined.
“We have everything we need: let’s get them.”
The data Batman sent to the screens vanished and the vigilante looked at the
God of thunder.
“You’ll get the data when the time comes: this isn’t the time yet.”
Tony scowled.
“And you’re the one to decide that?” he snorted smugly.
“I have the knowledge and I alerted you about S.H.I.E.L.D. Plus, I know the
League. We must not be hasty.”
“Yes, but how are we going to prepare if we don’t have all the data in our
disposal?” Captain America asked.
Batman turned slowly his head to his direction.
“You’re a soldier: you know that a soldier can be a great asset or a fatal
drawback at the time of war and that depends on his ability to wait. Also,
you’re a leader and you know how important is to keep your men and women calm
and ready for the charge.”
Steve’s eyes sparkled thrilled.
“You said they possess ancient weapons and that you have details about their
nature” Dr. Banner had his arms crossed. “We need to know how to neutralize
those weapons or else they would use them against us and civilians.”
Batman nodded.
“Don’t mind about that, Dr. Banner; you’ll get this information in time for the
attack. In the meantime, I trust you’ll be ready to neutralize your weapons and
the systems of S.H.I.E.L.D.”
Fury who had stayed silent all this time pouted his lips.
“I bet there is a solid reason you don’t want an immediate attack.”
Tony stared at his friend.
“Indeed” he nodded but didn’t elaborate “The fact S.H.I.E.L.D. never allowed
you in its headquarters actually suits us because we can’t keep the
surveillance system hacked all the time; however you can’t use the Avengers’
jet for counsils either because blocking their access will make them
suspicious. After I end the call, the place will remain secure for a couple of
minutes till you leave and then will return to the normal function.”
Natasha shook her head; she knew about secrecy’s great importance.
“How long we have to wait?” Thor asked frowned.
“Not much. You’ll get the data when the conditions for the attack will be ripe.
I’ll send the info to Stark.”
Tony yanked his head surprised and his teammates stared at him.
“Why Stark?” Natasha asked demandingly arching an eyebrow.
“Isn’t obvious?” Fury mumbled.
Yet Batman was unfazed.
“Because his house is bug-free and easily hacked.”
“What?!” Tony shouted outraged. “You asshole!” but the vigilante had already
vanished from the screen.
The rest of the Avengers laughed at Tony’s wrath who was still cursing Batman;
they were still numb from the revelations and Batman’s impressive presence but
seeing the smug billionaire pissed was a treat.
Thor detached from the others and approached the morose billionaire.
“You never answered my question about Bruce Wayne: had he ever an encounter
with a demon?”
Tony rolled his eyes but his blood chilled in his veins.
“Nonsense…”
But Thor’s eyes were dead serious.
“It is true, right? Tony, don’t deny it, things are serious: he is getting
stronger!”
“Can you just let Bruce alone?” his eyes glimmered angrily and hastened to
leave the hall.
 
The sound of the running water filled the dark room as the wrist watch on the
night stand read half past three in the morning.
Clark enjoyed the lukewarm water as ran all over his hot body; he kept his eyes
closed, images of his Star’s naked body coming to tingle his flesh, the thought
that yesterday at this very hour he was sleeping peaceful in his arms adding
more torture…
He wished he could relive that night; his body demanded to have it again. Yet
he knew that he should not…tonight: Bruce needed all the rest he could get for
the day that was coming…like an ominous storm. He dreaded the day ahead of
them…
He had decided to not disturb Bruce at all that night; of course that didn’t
mean that he hadn’t watched him from his hotel room patrolling Gotham. He
witnessed Batman stopping three robberies, two rapes and four burglaries all of
them commited by small time thugs exploiting the absence of the ruling gangs.
Superman wanted to rush to assist but he knew that Bruce wouldn’t appreciate
that; first, he didn’t want Superman connected with Batman and second their
enemies shouldn’t realize that Superman wasn’t under the effect that weakened
him. Clark smiled.
After last night, his powers were fully restored. Till then, after the initial
rapid improvement, the recover was rather slow but after he made love to Bruce,
he felt his body fully recharged – as a matter of fact, he felt more powerful
than ever, even from the times he approached the sun and sucked his radiance
from up close. Without exaggeration it felt as if he had unified with the sun…
And Lucius confirmed it…well, Clark of course didn’t share any details but when
he visited the scientist for his dosage – pretending that he wanted an
interview - he told him how great he felt. Lucius took a sample and with a
radiant, clever smile confirmed that indeed his organism was as good as new.
Clark dried his hair with a towel and wrapped another around his waist heading
to his dingy bedroom for a lonely night flooded with dreams.
He yawned more from boredom than sleepiness but his mouth stayed agape seeing
Batman standing before the small balcony door. Impossible; he had heard the
Tumbler heading to the Palisades…He rolled his eyes – auto-pilot, of course!
Batman had his lenses deactivated and Clark had the rare gift to see those eyes
sparkling through the dark cowl.
“How? I didn’t hear you…” Clark asked – foolishly – because that ninja could
evade even his super senses.
Batman placed his thumbs on the cowl’s fingerprint receptors which answered
with a hiss before Bruce took the cowl off, revealing his face and his sweaty,
stuck on his head and forehead locks.
“Do you care about ‘how’ or ‘why’?” Bruce cocked an eyebrow and gave a crooked
smile.
Clark didn’t need another prompt; he used his super speed to reach his Star –
which was ridiculous since the room was really small – and closed him in his
naked, humid torso. He cupped the younger man’s face and kissed passionately
his lips, Bruce responding avidly while two gloved hands wrapped around Clark.
Bruce had come for him!
“You wouldn’t have come, huh?” Bruce asked him piercing Clark with his
sparkling eyes. “Is this how much your love lasts?” he asked mock hurt with a
smug expression.
But immediately he chuckled as in a blur Clark had placed him on his small bed
starting unclasping his armor’s various parts using his X-Ray vision to find
the hidden joints. Clark’s yearning was such that he had just removed a big
armor plate from Bruce’s chest and his mouth glued on the younger man’s breast
sucking the hot, sweaty flesh while his hands continued their frantic job
pulling off that annoying armor and throwing the towel off his own body.
“You could have chosen a latex suit…” he sobbed as his hard penis was met with
Kevlar instead of soft, sweet flesh.
Bruce snorted.
“You know, bullets can pierce my body…” he huffed as Clark rooting around
managed finally to extract the hip part of the armor, his hard penis rubbing
his dressed with underwear groin. “And I don’t like latex on meeeee…” a long
moan escaped his lolled backwards neck as Clark suddenly lowered his underwear
and began kissing his genitals.
“You know…” Clark mumbled between aroused flesh “I hate latex too…on you…” he
grunted “because everyone…would picture…what I see…”
Bruce grabbed Clark’s hair and yanked softly his head to lock their eyes;
Superman’s crystal blue eyes were feverish, almost crazy in desire.
“I thought you were mad at me” Bruce said seriously.
Clark’s eyes widened.
“Mad? At you?”
“I’m not the easiest person…”
But Clark stopped everything else by capturing his lips and massaging gently
and then stronger following the movement of Bruce’s lips, swimming in the
sparkling seas of his Star’s eyes, the emerald stars blinding him with their
dance.
Bruce moaned on Clark’s full, rich lips enjoying their strength and salty
taste, his hands that suddenly were ungloved – courtesy of Clark - ruffling a
bit shyly the wet locks of the Man of Steel.
“The only reason…” Clark couldn’t pull his lips from that sweet mouth “I
wouldn’t have come…mmmm!...is to let…you” his tongue was brushing Bruce’s mouth
and his Star’s tongue played along “rest…”
And that reminded Clark of the situation. He stopped determined but not without
real pain and lifted his head to look at Bruce’s narrowed eyes. He caressed his
hot cheeks.
“You need to rest and Alfred will be worried…”
Bruce huffed, controlling his uneven breath.
“All my life I had two or three hours of sleep a day.”
Clark kissed his temple.
“That doesn’t mean we have to continue that.”
Bruce pressed his lips.
“As for Alfred you can fly me home after…That will save us much time” and even
if the League watched them this would solidify their belief that Superman was
still addicted.
Clark smiled.
“You really love to fly, huh?”
“I can give you back your own wings…” Bagdana’s voice echoed really close – in
his head.
Clark felt Bruce’s body freezing and tensing; he put gently his hands under the
younger man’s shoulders and lifted him in a hug that united their chests. He
caressed his back, feeling Bruce’s soft lips touching his shoulder though his
arousal ebbed away. It was just then that he realized that Bruce didn’t wear
the Black Butterfly around his neck; he perused the utility belt and found the
diamond in a compartment.
“I’m sorry, Bruce” he whispered in Bruce’s hair “I’m stupid – I always say the
wrong thing…”
Bruce clenched his teeth; it wasn’t Clark’s fault. He couldn’t allow his demons
haunt Clark too; he wouldn’t allow them rule his life.
He tightened his grip on Clark’s strong back and slithered his lips feathery
light on his neck causing Clark’s surprised groan that became a sob when
Bruce’s mouth brushed his ear letting hot air stimulate the hyper sensitive
organ. Bruce could hear the powerful heart kicking in Superman’s made-of-steel
ribs as Clark’s hands became once again greedy in their exploration.
“I want you to move your torso on mine slowly, gently, causing a light contact
that will become strong when your nipples touch mine. It’s an order, child; I
don’t want you shy!”
With Ra’s it made him feel filthy but now Clark’s arousal and happy moans were
elating him and fueled his movements. Clark’s nipples were already erected and
hard and as soon as he touched them with his, the powerful body shuddered in
his arms, his hard penis throbbing on Bruce’s stomach and the hands of steel
groped his firm buttocks.
Clark didn’t want to penetrate the tired body in his arms although Bruce urged
him to, feeling guilty for spoiling the mood earlier.
“Bruce, stop…” he whispered between rasps because his need was so demanding
that made him shake uncontrollably and Bruce’s wet mouth on his aching nipple
wasn’t helping. “I know you’re doing it…because…” he whimpered as the younger
man’s tight thighs wrapped around his and closed with his ankles crossed.
“Because I want it!” Bruce’s fierce eyes shone like lightnings in the dark room
that was illuminated by the flashing of boards and cars passing outside.
What restraining power Clark had, evaporated when Bruce’s hips touched his
slithering up and down and in tantalizing, huge circles that numbed his mind
and made the throb of his length agonizingly crazy, his big vein swollen with
boiling blood. His penis on his own accord slipped towards the beloved flesh
and Clark barely made it – thanks to super speed - to take the lube from the
drawer and apply it.
As he was thrusting tenderly in Bruce he was sure that his Star offered him
that to relieve him; Clark despite his drive to quench his yen feared that
Bruce didn’t really wanted to be touched but then thankfully felt the younger
man’s penis also erected. Having memorized Bruce’s bodily reactions from their
first time he knew that his Star was a bit slower in getting aroused; which was
perfectly reasonable given the struggle inside him every time…
“You’re the most gorgeous and bravest being in the world…” he mumbled mouthing
greedily Bruce’s stretched neck to end up savoring his lips and tightened his
embrace as his thrusts became faster brushing Bruce’s prostate.
Bruce held desperately Clark’s taut shoulder blades as his body convulsed
uncontrollably, electric currents flooding his spine and his mind; he was
moaning and grunting but Clark was sucking every sound kissing deeply his
mouth. And then suddenly Clark’s embrace became one handed, his other hand
caressing tenderly Bruce’s throbbing penis till with a violent jolt he came
exactly the moment a hot flood filled his insides.
“You know that you healed me?” Clark whispered in his ear still holding him
glued on his body, Bruce’s calves caressing his shivering buttocks.
Bruce locked his still dilated eyes on Clark’s.
“Actually, you did that. Remember?’’
Clark brushed Bruce’s wet locks that stack in his forehead and cheekbones
framing his sweaty face.
“Despite the huge improvement from the medicine, my powers didn’t felt as
before but after last night…” he sighed “I feel stronger than ever.”
Bruce chuckled.
“It’s your psychology.”
Clark tapped his nose and then caressed his swollen lips, Bruce kissing his
firgertips.
“Lucius’ exams confirmed it…”
Bruce jerked.
“You told Lucius?!”
“Sssss…Of course not.” He chuckled “You said I’m your painkiller and you’re my
healing sun…”
“I thought I’m your Star…” he cocked an eyebrow.
Clark laughed.
“Sun is also a star…A huge one…” he stared at Bruce’s face and pressed his
lips.
“Say it…”
Clark closed his eyes.
“Call it off, Star…Don’t go to Luthor…There must be another way.”
Bruce’s eyes filled with determination.
“This is the safest way and you know it; only that way we can catch them and
eliminate the danger once and for all.”
Clark lowered his eyes.
“In the cave, I felt the urge to grab you and take you away from everything…”
he said honestly and locked his eyes with Bruce.
“Ten or fifteen years ago I’d have wanted you to do that; I’d have pleaded with
you for that… But now things are different, Clark.”
Clark nodded. Ten years ago…Ten, fifteen years ago he had begun his action –
even before. In fact, he had saved kids from abusive families, from
pedophiles…but he didn’t save Bruce…If he did, his Star’s body and soul
wouldn’t ache so much from bleeding scars; his Star could be able to sleep
without nightmares…
Bruce’s quite respiration on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts; he
was sleeping like a baby inside his arms breathing softly hot air causing goose
bumbs on his flesh.
He carefully pulled himself from Bruce’s body and the younger man protested in
his sleep. He placed him tenderly on the mattress and cleaned him gently with
his tongue as if licking the most delicious ice cream. Then lay beside him,
cuddled him to have his soft breath brushing his chest and Bruce unconsciously
nestled in his broad torso seeking the human warmth, the human affection. Clark
smiled; he wasn’t a human yet Bruce made him forget that. Actually, he felt
very small, weak and coward in comparison to that human…
“How can you be so brave and fearless with all the horrors you experienced?”
Bruce buried his face in Clark’s pectoral and unconsciously nuzzled his chest
making the Man of Steel moan.
“Tomorrow night we’ll sleep at the greenhouse…” his Star whispered without
opening his eyes and Clark knew that he was talking in his sleep. “It won’t
rain tomorrow and Clark will be able to see all stars…”
Superman leaned and kissed softly Bruce’s forehead.
“I need only the star in my arms…But will go there, Star; I promise.”
 
“You must consider me a total slut…” Bruce said as Tony lowered the small
forceps to rest the implant in a minuscule incision on Bruce’s nape.
It was early morning and they were at Lucius’ lab in Wayne Tower but the
scientist had left to answer a call.
“What?” Tony asked dumbfounded.
“One day making a move on you and the other sleeping with Clark…”
Tony placed the implant carefully inside the flesh and it instantly began
taking the form of the flesh around sealing the incision.
“Don’t say that again, little guy! Or else we’re gonna have a fight.”
Bruce turned his head seeing Tony taking off his latex gloves and throwing them
on the bin. The older man hurried to pull off the white lab rob.
“Those robs never flattered me…”
“Not that you need it…” Bruce winked and Tony arched his eyebrows with
emphasis.
“I glow, baby!” he stretched his hands wide. “And not as that baldy ass does
when light hits his bulb of a head!”
Bruce stood from the bench.
“You’re not pissed at me?”
Tony crossed his arms and stabbed his eyes to Bruce’s.
“For going to Luthor’s suite?”
Bruce rolled his eyes.
“For playing with your feelings…”
“Listen, buddy: you never played with my feelings, we just had a tough moment:
alcohol, distress, concussion mixed…We are brothers. That night at my penthouse
I almost did it…touched you” he shook his head “because you’re a gorgeous
man…but you’re Bruce, too…my baby friend whom I thought lost forever and found
him again…And you thought that you wanted to…you know…with me because naturally
you were enchanted by my outstanding beauty and charm” Bruce chuckled and Tony
frowned “I don’t like that chuckle…’’ and then sobered. “But let’s face it:
you’d never see me as a lover because I’m Tony, your older brother – the crazy
Californian boy who coaxed you to grope girls’ butts.”
“I didn’t!” Bruce protested blushing.
But Tony gave a big nod.
“Oh, yes, you did! But you’re so sweet that chicks would just giggle and kiss
you on the cheeks…” he shook his head rolling his eyes. “I had to become 18 to
get that charm!”
Bruce laughed.
“Where’s Pepper?”
“She had to fly to Malibu for a meeting” he answered nonchalant but his mood
changed seeing Bruce’s frown. “Actually, is better she is away from Gotham.”
“You spoke with her?”
“Of course; don’t worry, buddy. I have bodyguards guarding Peps’ body…” he
lolled his head. “Those endless legs, those hips that wait your lessons…”
“I’d feel better if she was near you…”
Tony nodded.
“Yuuup! I know…I’d feel better too if she was intimately close to me…” he
sighed. “After all, during the battle I’d have to leave her unprotected behind
lines so she’ll be safer in my home at Malibu…speaking of which, you had to
tell the guys that my home is easily hacked?”
Bruce chuckled.
“We had to persuade them that Batman doesn’t like Stark…”
Tony ruffled his hair.
“What sacrifices I’m doing for justice!”
Lucius returned smiling.
“Are you done?” he asked.
“Yes…Um, Lucius, I wanted to speak to you about the Water of Immortality.”
“Of course, Mr. Wayne” he gestured to the stools.
 “Ra’s was using the Water to heal critical injuries…I know it first hand but
it really revives dead people?”
Tony rubbed his goatee.
“It did revive me…Wait! That makes me a zombie?”
Lucius laughed.
“I don’t think that you, Mr. Stark, will ever meet the definition of a zombie.”
Tony pouted and lolled his head.
“Peps would disagree with that…”
“All in all, Mr. Wayne, I don’t think that the liquid can revive someone
already dead but it can postpone death until the wounds are healed. Ra’s Al
Ghul was able to maintain the fame of his immortality by taking the medicine in
time. It’s a powerful medicine but I wouldn’t believe that someone as wise as
Aristotles would violate nature in that scale. Actually, even if someone as Al
Ghul used the Water to expand his life, aging would still catch up with him and
the natural worn of the organism even belated would appear. Al Ghul was indeed
aging albeit slowly.”
Bruce remembered Ra’s keeping him connected to his naked body after their
forced intercourses and saying that Bruce revived him. He shuddered as Clark’s
words from last night echoed.
“You’re my healing sun…”
“It’s possible you have the talent of your father or healing abilities you
don’t know yet.” Cassandra’s mystic voice repeated.
 “Mr. Wayne?”
“Buddy, are you okay?”
Their concerned voices woke him and he smiled.
“I was thinking…What about the Water’s abilities in illnesses?”
“We’re making tests” Tony answered. “We can’t present it as it is because some
jerks could use it all the time or some smartasses could reproduce it to serve
their shady purposes.”
Lucius nodded.
“We’ll adjust its composition to heal each of the most critical illnesses. That
medicine is an immense power in the hands of one person.”
Bruce pressed his lips.
“League has it…And if…if it can save a life…I mean if someone is at the verge
of death why not helping that person live more? Imagine the happiness for his
loved ones…” he was thinking of his parents and Tony understood and patted his
shoulder.
Lucius pouted.
“I feel you, Mr. Wayne, as everyone who lost a loved one” Lucius had lost his
wife from cancer. “And creating specialized cure for the fatal illnesses will
be a great gift to humanity yet immortality is something that surpasses me or
anyone…It’s quite dangerous and I’m sure you understand, Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce nodded.
“You experienced first hand how Ra’s used it” Tony added “and we don’t know if
the often use has side effects in a person’s personality or mental functions:
maybe the unwise use increased Ra’s’ paranoia and cruelty.”
“I understand” Bruce smiled and looked Tony in the eyes.
Tony stood up.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to add some things to our studies on the
weapons and check the implant’s transmission.”
Bruce’s stare followed his friend and suddenly Tony halted and cast a sideways
glance to his buddy.
“That day, in your office when I was almost dead, I felt your tears…I mean,
your tears were weird…” Bruce frowned and gulped uncomfortable. “Like sending
something inside me…”
Bruce smiled.
“The mind plays awkward games at such times…”
 Tony sighed and shrugged. When the door closed Bruce turned to Lucius.
“Lucius, I want you to do something for me.”
The scientist frowned.
“Everything you want, Mr. Wayne.”
He pulled a pile of papers out of his jacket that hang on the chair’s back.
“If anything happens to me these are my…arrangements for the company and the
fortune. They are perfectly legit.”
Lucius shook his head and closed his eyes.
“What’s going on, Mr. Wayne?” he asked dead serious.
“I just want to be prepared for everything” his eyes shone determined.
“Why me keeping them and not Alfred, Mr. Stark or a lawyer?”
“Alfred and Tony would be panicked from that and a lawyer can be bought; you
remember what happened after my parents’ murders…You’re the most trusted. And I
don’t want the Enterprises compromised ever again…”
Lucius clearly troubled covered his mouth with his fingers; his eyes sparkling.
Bruce smiled and gave him the papers.
“It’s just a precaution, Lucius; everything will be fine” he patted his upper
arm.
***** Chapter 63 *****
Chapter Notes
     At first, that chapter seemed not wanting to be written and then it
     became XXL! I hope you'll like it.
Bruce looked at his reflection on the whole body mirror as Alfred was fixing
the cufflink on his left sleeve since his right hand still couldn’t perform
such fine movements. Usually, he avoided his reflection because what was seeing
in the mirror was the same reflection in the mad, greedy orbs of the people
that used him all these years.
But today he didn’t feel the same dread so he cast a glance, fleeting at first
and then when he realized that his reflection wasn’t distorted, mixed with
hostile eyes he looked more. And what he saw left him calm because now it was
exactly what he saw on Clark’s crystal blue eyes drenched in affection and
complete adoration.
It was so different that he felt cautiously the fine fabric of his expensive
black trousers and his shirt’s white silk. Alfred regarded him worried.
“Is something wrong, sir?” he had noticed with relief his young master gazing
for the first time his reflection in the mirror calmly .
Bruce smiled turning his eyes to his butler.
“Everything is perfect, Alfred, thank you. I don’t know what I was going to do
without you.”
Alfred gave a tight smile.
“It’s my pleasure, Master Bruce” he hesitated to say what he wanted but Bruce
encouraged him with his eyes. “If only all these were not for meeting Mr.
Luthor…”
Though Alfred’s voice was poised Bruce could hear his inner agony.
“I must do this, Alfred” his eyes were still and resolute. “Everything is
ready: Selina, Tony and Superman at their positions. We have to get them out of
their holes to stop their plans before they kill more people.”
Alfred pressed his lips and gave a court nod: his young master was determined
and insisting on that was both inappropriate for a butler and futile. Besides
he was sure that his young master’s friends had tried to talk him out of this
too and especially Master Kent certainly used the most persuasive arguments.
Bruce took his mother’s comb and began brushing his locks under Alfred’s
affectionate and content eyes. Alfred was elated and touched because Bruce
after what happened with Master Kent was lax, like some chains were broken;
...happy - even if this adjective was still much for his young master.
 At first, he was worried for the circumstances that led to that and for the
next day but things were going smoothly. If only this meeting with Luthor
wasn’t looming… He didn’t like this man and the way he looked at his young
master like a hyena. And Bruce was going to leave in a couple of minutes…
Sometimes his passion for justice and saving people was a real curse.
As Alfred held the black designer’s jacket for Bruce to wear, the alert from
the grounds’ gates beeped and the butler took out of his pocket the portable
control panel which looked like a common smartphone and stared at its large
screen.
Bruce looked questioningly to him.
“Mister Luthor’s white limousine driven by Miss Graves is at the gates.”
“That wasn’t part of the arrangements…” Bruce had a slight frown but nodded.
“Let her in, Alfred.”
Luthor had sent to pick him up, Bruce mused. Luthor didn’t want him with his
car at the hotel; of course it suited him not having any traces of Bruce’s
presence there to connect Luthor with what was to happen after. The sly tycoon
didn’t know that the lenses in his eyes were going to transmit everything to
the authorities.
Alfred brushed the screen and the gates opened. Bruce buttoned his jacket and
walked to the door. Alfred followed, opened the door for him and locked eyes
with Bruce.
“Promise me you’ll get back tonight, sir.”
Bruce smiled reassuringly.
“I always do, don’t I?” he patted his upper arm. “Stay at the cave with Tony”
he said and brushed the pouch with the black diamond handing it to Alfred; he
couldn’t risk falling in the wrong hands.
“As you wish, sir” he put the pouch in his pocket and turned to leave for the
door but stopped and looked at Bruce. “Please, be careful, Master Bruce.”
Bruce nodded dead serious.
“You know I will, Alfred.”  
 
Harvey was antsy; it was late evening and he was rooted in his chair at his
office with the USB flash disk Batman gave him attached to his computer waiting
for the mysterious vigilante to unlock the contents.
In the meantime he had made several calls to the Department of Defense asking
them to speed the processes yet he received the blant answer that there were
some protocols that needed to be followed.
Harvey had cursed; his nerves weren’t in the best shape since his father didn’t
come home last night informing him that he needed to repair some damage at his
own apartment so he’d stay there for the night and return the next day. Of
course, Harvey reminded him that he didn’t have to keep that apartment and
continue living with him after he totally recuperated but the man was adamant
saying that in his apartment Harvey should live with his girl.
Harvey had snorted internally: his girl! He didn’t say to his father that
Rachel had left so he passed the subject suggesting to go there and bring him
home so to not stay alone there. But old Steve chuckled and answered that he
lives alone for years and that he knew how to take care of himself if that
worried his son. Harvey didn’t push it because he didn’t want to panic his
father telling him that Joker might have his eye on him.
However, he asked confindentially from Jim Gordon to have an officer watch
Steve Petrou’s apartment. Jim hadn’t inquired anything knowing that Joker would
want to hit the man who protected the DA.
Still his heart beat normally only when old Steve returned home for breakfast.
Harvey asked him not leave the house for any reason and lock; the man naturally
frowned hearing that but Harvey reassured him that it was just a precaution.
He had stayed at the office the entire day but called his father a couple of
times to make sure that everything was okay.
He leaned on his elbow and stared at the mysterious raws of files in Batman’s
USB that waited to be unlocked and tapped his fingers. Gotham’s underworld was
scared waiting the next hit from the new gang – actually, police’s
investigation showed that it was one gang that attacked the restaurant, a
bizarre gang mixing old techniques with modern technology as the Katana along
with unseen before rifles proved.
Mouths were shut in the Narrows and the Docks though Jim and he were almost
certain that nobody had seen anything in the restaurant area…or they’d have
more killings. These new criminals were worse than anything Gotham had
experienced – even Falcone.
Still GCPD and Batman arrested many small timers last night who tried to
exploit the situation. Batman always assisted them.
Especially, if he finally unlocked these damned files that he was sure Jim
Gordon was eagerly watching too.
 
“Is everyone ready?” Talia asked Bane totally relaxed in her armchair behind
her desk.
Her agitation and eagerness just glimmered in her dark eyes that pierced the
indifferent eyes of her loyal warrior. She was dressed with an ankle-length
black plain silk kimono that shone in the slightest move she did.
On the opposite wall, a huge plasma screen showed live footage from the Grand
Hotel Palace which changed to different parts of the hotel according to Talia’s
order; the other half of the screen had GCN on.
“Yes, Mistress Talia, waiting your order. Stane as well.”
“Bruce’s transfer and accommodation?”
“I gave you a detailed report.”
She nodded satisfied.
“Do you trust Luthor?”
She touched her fingertips together gazing at the feeding from the corridor in
front of Luthor’s suite. Her eyes were cold and emotionless like the metal of a
sword.
“Of course not; he is a cunning evil scumbag and he detests following orders:
he believes that he is the best specimen of the human race” she snorted. “He
doesn’t like or trust me so he’ll try to put his own touch to the plan into
inflicting his own rules…” her eyebrows arched sarcastic “He thinks that he can
change his fate and save his sorry hide” she shook her head. “Pathetic!”
Bane nodded his smirk visible in his narrowed eyes. He yanked his head.
“You know that Wayne won’t come peacefully; he’ll put up a fight.”
The young woman smiled slyly.
“You always said that he is a mediocre fighter: time to prove it. Our ordinary
fighters are inferior to him so if despite their number fail to subdue him your
task will be to bring him down.”
Bane stretched his enormous posture and clenched his fists on his sides, his
satisfaction sparkling in his dark orbs. Talia smirked.
“Superman will be near his bitch’s ass” he added taking in his Mistress smirk.
“He’ll be very weak by now but still stronger than a normal man so the special
Kryptonite will put him out of our way and Stark will be very busy to watch his
friend’s meeting.”
Bane locked his eyes with hers.
“But you definitely have a contingency to ensure his capture.”
She smiled and there was a slight tenderness there before it was overdone with
irony.
“You know me very well, huh? And not only his capture but his cooperation as
well.”
The giant nodded with his eyes gleeful: Wayne’s total submission to them wasn’t
his wish; not what he imagined for the untamed, useless worm but yet he had to
accept his Mistress’ will, even if he believed that her obsession would prove
disastrous exactly as her father’s. And he didn’t want that for his Talia even
though he realized that her fascination for that evil being was surpassing
their long love. Wayne had the irresistible allure of a demon: Bane knew that
personally. Ra’s Al Ghul had played with Bane giving him his young whore.
Talia narrowed her eyes seeing Bane deep in thought but then she frowned as her
stare fell on the image from GCN.
“Grand Hotel’s main entrance” she ordered with her deep, calm voice and the
feeding from their hidden cameras changed into showing exactly the same
spectacle as the GCN.
“Sonovabitch!” Bane growled seeing what Talia saw.
Grand Hotel’s grandiose, abundant illuminated entrance and foyer were crammed
with people and reporters buzzing and giggling around. The flashing caption in
the screen’s bottom read: annual marines’ ball first time at Gotham.
GCN’s law rank reporter was making his correspondence Talia watching.
“...Rumor has it that it was Lex Luthor’s personal request that made the Grand
Hotel Palace’s direction to grand his grandiose ball room to the marines; in
fact, the tycoon from Metropolis made a very generous donation to the
foundation for the marine’s widows and orphans…”
Talia laughed; a dry, emotionless but amuzed laughter. Bane looked at her
confused.
“What is he up to?”
Talia sobered and pierced him with her beautiful eyes.
“Creating his alibi.”
 
Selina followed the long white limousine at first with Bruce’s bike and then
from rooftop to rooftop; Tony had informed her through the intercom Bruce’s
alies shared. Superman was aware of that change in the previous arrangements
and was also watching the car’s course from afar thanks to his super vision; he
was positioned in a location between MCU in the Downtown and the Grand Hotel in
the Midtown to watch both places; of course Tony was also watching the public
cameras outside the Hotel and those inside and out of the MCU.
For the time being, the car graciously rolled on Gotham’s streets shining under
the city’s lights carrying Bruce towards the Grand Hotel.
Everything was normal, no praying hostile eyes on the road; she relayed that to
the others.
 
Bruce in the back seat of the pretentious limousine sat tense on the white real
leather: in fact, he was completely calm but he knew that the small camera that
served as an intercom between passenger and driver was on and certainly Mercy
watched him; so he played the nervous supposedly unaware of the camera.
“Mister Wayne” he pretended to jump startled when Mercy’s voice suddenly filled
the huge space decorated with gold and rose wood accessories. “Do you want a
glass of champagne?” a shining wooden surface slithered off the inter wall with
a crystal flute filled with golden sparkling champagne. “Mr. Luthor searched
the entire France to find the small winery that makes the rarest, finest
champagne in the world for you.”
Bruce stared at the flute but didn’t move to take it.
“Thank you, Miss Graves but I’m on medication and alcohol is not allowed.”
“As you wish, Mister Wayne.”
The intercom shut with a mild tone but the camera remained on. Bruce lay back
on the seat gazing uncomfortably through the impenetrable windows to the
glistening landscape of the night Gotham. He was roaming the city every night
but Gotham seemed different each time especially from a moving car which was
rare for him during the night; and each time Gotham fascinated him as much.
He refocused on the operation. Luthor sent his limousine because Bruce’s car
parked in the Grand Hotel’s parking would definitely create solid evidence
against the tycoon when Bruce Wayne disappeared. Luthor wanted to be clear:
obviously he didn’t trust his ally and took his precautions - he wasn’t a
rookie in the game and knew how to manouver himself out of tight situations.
He saw the impressive, gargantuan mass of Grand Hotel approaching and a slight
un-pretended tremor ran his spine: the majestic hotel carried memories. Mixed
bittersweet memories dating twelve years ago when he was dragged there to
satisfy for the first time the mysterious man who changed his life. Definitely
his enemies chose that place on purpose: Luthor stayed at the same suite that
Ra’s Al Ghul kept permanently till he died.
Bruce frowned realizing that the limousine wasn’t heading for the hotel’s
parking at the back but for the grand central entrance and gradually he could
see people there with cameras. So Luthor didn’t want to conceal their meeting
on the contrary he wanted to make it widely known. He didn’t smirk because
Luthor’s loyal bodyguard was watching: so an effort to build an alibi.
The intercom belled again.
“Mister Wayne, I’m honestly sorry for that but the car is blocked and I can’t
manouver it to avoid the press; I’ll do my best to keep them away from you.”
Though he knew that she absolutely wasn’t “honestly sorry” Bruce gave a shy nod
and smiled.
“It’s okay, Miss Graves; I’m used to that.”
The floack of small time reporters who were covering the marines’ ball saw the
famous white limousine and hurried there to grasp their big chance for really
eye-catching news.
Bruce saw not without disdain the wave of flashing cameras and sighed before
standing out from the door Mercy opened for him.
An avalance of flashes blinded him as reporters rushed closer to him shooting
questions that Bruce couldn’t make out through the disorder. He was totally
tranquil yet he pretended to blink constantly due to the flashes and trusted
Mercy to help him through this.
“Mr. Wayne, how are you feeling after the incident with Joker?”
Bruce turned slightly and mumbled a “fine, thank you”.
“What are you meeting Luthor for?”
“Is there a joint venture at the making?”
But Mercy with determined moves and assisted by the security staff managed to
pass the pressing mob.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Wayne.”
“It’s okay…”
As he stepped in the mammoth foyer with the polished surfaces that sparkled
under the huge chandeliers he felt his mind numbing. That night, twelve years
ago, he was also dragged through the same foyer but the shining like a mirror
floor was the only thing he could see since his head was buried in a dirty hood
and his head was downcast. Of course he still could feel with dread the
disgusted glares of the elegantly and clean dressed clientele at the dirty teen
and shared that dread with his 14-years old self even now, feeling the admiring
goggling eyes of the people in the foyer.
He saw relieved the spacious lift approaching, eerily unchanged from then. The
employee pressed the button for them and Mercy gestured politely for him to
enter first but Bruce gave her a courteous smile.
“After you, Miss Graves” he said giving a slight tremor of distress in his
voice from the turmoil he just faced.
“Thank you” she stepped in and Bruce followed really glad to see the doors slid
closed shutting the foyer and the goggling people outside.
When the artificial voice announced that they were at the presidential suite
floor Bruce slightly tensed but followed Mercy to the door of Luthor’s
apartment.
“Ya do whatev’r he wants!”
Chill’s creepy voice roared again in his ears as he felt again the same
soothing sensation from the thick velvet carpet that covered the huge corridor.
“Yes, sir”
Mercy opened the door and Luthor rushed there his eyes glimmering from
anticipation. He opened his arms widely and shook Bruce’s hand fervently, the
younger man smiling sheepishly.
“Bruce, at last! I was anxiously waiting...I’m so happy to see you! You’re
gorgeous, my friend! Come, come, please!”
Bruce walked inside and Mercy followed closing the door and taking her position
at the corner of the huge hall; Bruce noticed that she discreetly looked at the
small alarm system in the wall for signs of any tracking device.
 
Clark stood on a rooftop at a dark corner of Gotham that gave him a panoramic
view. He was agitated; his heartbeat not frantic but elevated. He hated that
Bruce was the bait: fine, his Star was Batman and so skillful that he handled
even the Man of Steel...in more ways than one...He blushed and grinned
remembering last night.
But Luthor’s sly voice disgusting in pretend kindness and joy came to restore
his connection with reality and the situation. His fists clenched as his jaw.
“Of course, you’re happy, you bastard!”
He felt the urge to smash the suite’s windows, grab Bruce and fly away...His
eyes blast but then he closed them breathing slowly and calmly. He unclenched
his hands and looked towards the Grand Hotel. He couldn’t obey his whims;
people’s lives were at stake and his Star wouldn’t forgive him for ruining his
plan...So he forced his heart to beat normally and let the wind that waved his
cape cool his hot face.
 
Alfred placed the silver tray with the sandwich and the orange juice on the
bench beside Tony who watched eagerly the feeding from several public cameras.
The younger man looked at the tray puzzled.
“It’ll be a long, demanding night, Master Anthony so you need to keep your
strength.”
“Thank you, Alfred” he didn’t feel any hunger yet he began eating for Alfred’s
sake.
He pointed the crowd in front of and in the hotel’s foyer; he had seen Mercy
Graves stopping the white limousine in the main entrance stirring the
reporters’ frantic reactions.
“I’d expect from Luthor to secrete his meeting with Bruce if they really plan
to attack little guy tonight but he publicized it. Unless he wasn’t aware of
the mob there; so maybe now they cancel their plan.”
Alfred looked at the screen.
“I doubt it, sir.”
Tony frowned.
“How so?”
“GCN said that Mister Luthor was in fact the one who reassured that the
marine’s ball will be held tonight at the Grand Hotel.”
Tony pressed his lips.
“Sonovabitch! He builds his alibi - he wants to shake off suspicions for
Bruce’s disappearance and sent his car exactly to advertise his meeting with
him! Who would kidnap someone with whom he has a meeting widely known?”
He patted the stool next to him indicating Alfred to sit down.
“The big boss wants you here” he said arching his eyebrows. “We don’t want to
disobey him, right?”
Alfred sat and chuckled.
“I wouldn’t even consider that, Master Anthony!”
Tony laughed but immediately turned to his StarkStell that rang with the tune
he had chosen for Pepper: he hoped that she didn’t call to inform him about
some old-corporate fool wanting his time.
“Answer the call” he ordered his high tech phone.
“Tony” her voice was unrecognizable from angst and rasps “I’m sorry I call
you…”
“Don’t talk nonsense, babe.” Tony frowned and took the phone to activate the
camera; Pepper’s scared, sweaty face and her green eyes mad with terror
paralyzed him. “What’s going on?”
But Pepper disappeared from the screen, her shriek freezing Tony’s blood.
 
Bruce’s stare wandered to the suite’s spacious hall as Luthor showed him in the
dining room that as he remembered was connected with the bedroom with an arch
embroidered with arabesques from ivory.
The room was eerily same as in his memories: golden and ivory with long silken
curtains covering the huge windows allowing only flashing echoes from the city.
A shiver ran his spine as he became again the scared boy standing before the
seated lion-like man waiting his fate; even after twelve years he could still
smell Ra’s and the view of the king size bed with the silken gold-color
beddings made the sensation more intense.
“Do you know why you are here?’’
In front of him a small round table dressed in silk and lace carried the
ingredients of a very official dinner with a ridiculous expensive arrangement
of white and red roses in the middle and a fancy bottle of champagne waiting in
the wine cooler while lit candles gave the vibe of a romantic date; Bruce’s
lips twisted and he didn’t bother to hide it – after all, he said Luthor that
this will be a meeting.
“Mercy, leave us” Luthor said politely and she left the room to stay at the
hall.
Luthor smiled charmingly and held the high-backed chair for Bruce to sit. The
younger man sighed but sat causing Luthor’s smile to grow wider.
Bruce waited until the Metropolis’ tycoon sat opposite him and shook his head.
“All these weren’t necessary, Lex. We agreed on a strictly business meeting”
the corner of his eyes darted fleetingly and fearfully to the bed at the far
end of the room.
Luthor arched his eyebrows innocently taking in Bruce’s glance; his smile was
plain kindness except fauny.
“What?” he exclaimed surprised. “My dear Bruce: it is a business dinner, a
routine in a CEO’s life” Bruce pretended to blush but still didn’t relax. “My
dear friend, I have so much to teach you…” he added softly.
Bruce fumbled with the silken towel he held.
“Still I’d have preferred it if this…dinner was set in your office.”
Luthor pouted lolling his head on the side and opening his arms in the air.
“It’s the bed, right?” he sighed. “I’m sorry, no innuendo there; but the room
is decorated this way and I didn’t want that dinner to be public.”
Bruce cocked an eyebrow.
“The reporters out there didn’t predispose for an incognito meeting…”
Luthor gave a tight uncomfortable smile.
“Would you believe me if I swear I didn’t know?” Bruce seemed unconvinced.
“Okay, okay, my friend: I assure you that your exit will be totally
undisturbed” his teeth shone as his lips stretched in a sly smile.
Bruce wanted to snort but instead nodded.
Luthor clapped once and a perfectly dressed man walked in the room to serve
them food that Bruce didn’t know what it was but he was sure it was as insanely
priced as disgusting looking – thank goodness, he had eaten Alfred’s meal
before getting dressed. Both Tony and Clark pleaded with him not eat or drink
anything.
However, Ra’s had trained him to catch even the slightest of strange smells in
food or drink; not like Clark’s super smell but he could tell the most common
poisons and neuro toxins.
The butler poured a small quantity of wine to Luthor’s crystal fine flute and
the tycoon tasted closing his eyes; then the man poured more to the host’s
flute and then filled Bruce’s.
Luthor made a nod to the man and he vanished. The billionaire took another sip
of red whine scrutinizing his guest who shyly took some bites from his food.
“You don’t drink, Bruce? It’s Henri Jayer Richebourg Grand Cru, Cote de Nuits
of 1985, the best year.”
15,000 dollars a bottle: it was like hearing the rest of Luthor’s thoughts and
Bruce arched a mental eyebrow. He knew the wine: once he caught Alfred watching
a program about world’s finest – and priciest – wines.
“I’d absolutely love to but I’m on medication and alcohol it’s strictly
forbidden; however the food is delicious…” eeek! He preferred by far Alfred’s
dishes or Tony’s delivery pizza or Clark’s donuts for breakfast – this time it
was difficult to forbid his eyes softening in remembrance.
“Oh! That’s a shame!” Luthor pouted. “But health is above all, right?” he
smiled and raised his index finger. “I’ll send a bottle to the Manor to taste
it when you won’t be on medication.”
Bruce was irritated yet he hid it with a grin.
“Alfred will definitely appreciate it.”
“Or” Luthor’s voice was filled with innuendos “we can fix another dat…meeting
when you will be able to drink wine and this fine champagne.”
Bruce smirked and locked eyes with Luthor.
“If our collaboration proves interesting enough…”
Luthor burst in a loud laughter.
“Oh! Bruce, you’re a clever boy, huh?”
 
 
Superman was avidly listening to the conversation inside Luthor’s suite while
keeping an ear at MCU too. Luthor’s effort to appear polite disgusted him yet
he preferred that to a potential attack to Bruce.
“Everything clear around the hotel” Selina told him through the com “how’re
things at MCU?”
“Normal” he answered through clenched teeth.
“Patiense, handsome; you know, Bruce is yours…” she dragged her words knowingly
and chuckled.
“How can you be so calm?” he huffed; he knew that she wore X-ray, zoom goggles
and could see inside the hotel.
“Believe me...it takes much practice…” she replied with a deep voice and ended
the contact.
Superman closed his eyes; he truly admired Selina. Sometimes he envied her for
being with Bruce all these years but then considering what she witnessed his
envy transformed to admiration.
 
Tony jumped from the stool with widened eyes and Alfred stood up too; the
younger man began activating the Ironman armor but then the feeding from
Bruce’s lenses opened and Luthor’s smug face framed by his luxurious suite
filled the central of the five screens. Tony gulped and his armor stayed half
reflecting his emotional state, his eyes darting frantically from screen to his
phone.
Alfred patted his shoulder and Tony turned to him with his agony sweating his
face.
“What am I going to do?” Tony said with a low, throaty voice so much unlike his
usual. “They did it to lure me away from Bruce but Pepps is in danger…”
Alfred pressed his lips.
“Master Bruce would have liked you to go” he answered completely poised.
Tony ran his hands to his hair.
“I can’t abandon him...Damn, I should never have admitted I’m Ironman! Now they
attack one of my loved ones to force me abandon another! Bruce was right…”
His heart was pounding seeing Pepper’s panicked face constantly: if anything
happened to her because of him...He slapped his forehead. But Bruce was in
their target too and as soon as he left Gotham they’d launch their attack. He
shouldn’t have let Pepper go to Malibu…
He looked helplessly at Alfred.
“I know it’s a hard decision, Master Anthony but Master Bruce won’t be alone
and he knows how to defend himself while Miss Potts doesn’t.”
Tony’s eyes were emotionless, blank. Pepper’s ringtone in his phone literary
made him jump and he almost broke the phone in his haste to answer the call.
Yet what he saw made his eyes burst in flames and his jaw protrude.
“If you want her alive come to Malibu yourself and not using a proxy!” Stane’s
changed voice sneered through Iron Monger’s face plate.
“I’ll come, you motherfucker; to kill you myself!”
Iron Monger’s horrible, distorted snigger echoed throughout the cave.
“I’ll be waiting you, creep!”
The call ended and Tony closed his eyes, fisting his hands on the air, his feet
still unable to decide what to do.
Alfred blinked sympathetically, sharing his young master’s turmoil.
“Go, Master Anthony or else Master Bruce will be furious!”
Tony gave a pressed smile and nodded locking his eyes for an instance with the
older man. He activated the rest of his armor keeping his face revealed.
“I’ll have the feeding in my systems: I’ll be in constant contact with the
others - I’ll notify them for my...departure. Stay here, Alfred!” he yelled and
downed the face plate before taking off towards the waterfall and away from
Gotham.
 
Harvey perused the several reports he got from his colleagues and GCPD when his
office’s phone rang.
“Harvey Dent.”
“I’ve got something you care for …” a weird voice hued with stupid glee and a
rasp hit his ear.
“This is the DA’s office and I don’t have time for pranks.” he snapped rubbing
the bridge of his nose.
“If you find that person dead you won’t find it a prank, huh?” the stranger
giggled and Harvey understood that he was probably mentally troubled.
“Who are you?”
“Ask Joker” his giggle was louder now. “If you want your person alive…”
Harvey rose from his chair, Bruce’s warning flashing in his mind.
“If you are lying you’ll be sorry…What person?”
But the stranger just giggled again and ended the call. Harvey called
immediately his father’s cell phone without taking an answer.
“Damn!” Harvey shut the phone. “Robby!” he yelled and his assistant hurried
inside.
“What’s going on, Harvey?”
Harvey came out of his desk; his flushed face and his worried eyes frightened
Robert who stared comfused.
“I’m going to MCU; watch the screen: at any moment the files will be unlocked.”
He reached the door with two strides as Robert sat in the DA’s chair.
“If anything urgent comes out?”
“Call me” he opened the door and rushed outside.
 
“Falcone really understimated your intelligence, huh?” Luthor’s eyes glimmered
wickedly looking Bruce behind his fine porcelain dessert plate.
Bruce lowered his eyes and pretending to feel uncomfortable brought his hand to
brush the spot in the corners of his eyes that activated the lenses. His
friends would take the feeding in real time but Jim and Harvey would see
everything with some delay: he didn’t want them interfere sooner.
Luthor smirked as Bruce stayed silent.
“I guess he cared more for your physical virtues…” he licked his lips finishing
his dessert “not that I blame him.”
Bruce cleared his throat and thrashed in his chair.
“We’re here to discuss about business…” he mumbled.
Now Luthor’s snigger was loud and Bruce jolted.
“Really now?” the tycoon jeered keeping his cold eyes on Bruce’s puzzled ones.
“I’ve got to take back my sayings about your cleverness...You really believed
that I’d do business with you?”
Bruce frowned.
“Then? What’s the purpose of all these? I told you that I’d come only if it was
a meeting…”
Luthor stood, strutted the room and opened his arms widely knowing that Bruce’s
eyes were on him.
“Really did you believe that I’d bring you to that suite” he stressed the word
“for...discussing business?” he arched his eyebrows in exasperation.
“I...I don’t understand” he locked his eyes shyly with Luthor’s.
“You’re a lousy liar, boy! I can see why everyone preferred you moaning and not
speaking!”
Bruce’s face became red with shame, insult and anger.
“I don’t allow you to speak to me like that!” he snapped and made to stand up
but Luthor stormed at him holding the chair's armrests trapping the younger man
who looked at his mad eyes puzzled and fearful.
 
“It seems it’s just the two of us…” Selina told unfazed to Superman “Tony flies
to Malibu.”
“I took the message” Clark answered. “The bastards did it! Alfred is alone.”
“As long as he stays at the cave will be safe.”
“I’ll keep an ear there too.”
Selina chuckled.
“Thankfully we know they won’t try to distract you.”
Clark’s eyes sparkled.
“They believe me too weak to be an obstacle…But thanks to Bruce they are up to
a big surprise” he arched his eyebrows “and of course they don’t know about
you.”
“Thanks for mentioning, handsome”she dragged her words and Clark heard her
snort. “Luthor gets aggressive…”
Clark clenched his fists and jaw; he could listen to Luthor’s insults.
“Remember, you must remain calm; Bruce knows what he’s doing.”
Clark closed his eyes; he hoped he did. But then his long distance vision
caught something that made him frown: Bruce had told them about Rachel’s
warning for Harvey Dent.
“Harvey Dent just entered the MCU.”
“Joker had to make his move tonight as well, huh?”Clark could hear her eyebrow
jolting.
“I’ll monitor what happens there – you keep informing me about Bruce.”
“Roger.”
 
Harvey stormed inside the building of MCU, officers staring at him dumbfounded.
He knew the way to the holding cells.
He found Joker inside his double barred cell, flat on his back at the floor and
gazing at the ceiling counting God knows what. Harvey was sure that the scum
heard him but didn’t bother to stand.
“What have you done?!”
Only then the jester turned slowly to him with a hurt look on his clear face.
He sat on the floor and even slower stood up raising his hands in an appeasing
gesture to the wild DA.
“I’m for daaaays in that groovy – my gratitude to Mr. Stark – li -ttle cell:
how could I have done any - thing?” he shrugged and sighed. “I get the
impression I’m turning to Gotham’s scapegoat…”
Harvey crossed his arms.
“Cut the crup! A scum called me and told me that a person I hold dear is in
danger because of you.”
Joker lolled his head at the side and pouted.
“I dooooubt he used that kind of words – buuuuut I detect some tension there?”
he frowned. “Whaaaat tension? Better a blast of a volcano…W-O-W! You must hold
that person toooooo dear, huh?” he smiled with his Chesire smile.
If there weren’t the bars Harvey would have attacked the clown.
“What have you done?!”
Joker widened his eyes and ruffled his undyed hair.
“Youuuu ask about a person you hold dear…Mmmm…Who that ma-y be, huh?”
The veins in Harvey’s face twitched from that outrageous performance.
Joker was holding his chin in a posture of hard thinking.
“I could think only of ooooone person who cared so much for you to risk his
life to save you…”
Harvey straightened his posture glaring at the man.
“The guy who took the bullet I dedicated toooo you…Now, I wo - nder: fine, one
feels gratitude to someone who saved his life but to the point of living with
him in his apaaaartment?” he knitted his brows. “Funny, huh? Un - less, you’re
a homo an’ like the older guys…” he winked.
Harvey twisted his lips in disgust, fuming from anger and turned to leave.
Joker stopped abtruptly laughing and his eyes glimmering evilly stabbed the
young DA.
“Put the GCN’s site on your phone!” he pointed each word his nasal voice
grazing Harvey’s ear.
Joker’s changed stare told Harvey that it was no joke. He did as he was told
and he saw in breaking news a man hanging from the central tower of Adam’s
Bridge and another ready to cut the cable holding him suspended. The camera
zoomed on the hostage’s face.
Harvey’s heart lost some beats and cold sweat ran his spine: his father.
“You won’t get anything from that…” Harvey’s determined black eyes shone as
Joker’s. “GCPD already rushes there.”
Joker shrugged one shoulder.
“My man will cut the cable as soon as the pigs get near him and the old guy
would go to the bottom of the river…” he raised his index “buuuut even if your
snippers shot myyyy man then the whole bridge will make a beauuuuutiful
firework killing not only your… - what exactly is that man after all? – buuuut
also the people crossing the bridge. So you’d better hold your dogs …Huh?” he
approached as much as the bars allowed him and lowered his head to look deeply
at Harvey.
The young DA yanked his head.
“What do you want?”
Joker jerked his head and gazed at the ceiling thoughtful pouting his lips.
“Ummm…Many things… Buuuut mooost of all, my wife back” Harvey fumed and his
fists clenched. “He neeeever came for a conjugal visit an’…I’m a man with needs
and thinking that first night that remained unfinished…Ugh!” he growled “it’s
tooooo fru-strating!”
Harvey snorted.
“You don’t expect to bring you Bruce Wayne in a ribbon and a bow!”
Joker regarded the man and shook his head.
“Naaaah, I’m not unreasonable…I just want that lo - vely bars gone so my love
can unfold freely…”
“No way!”
 
“Joker’s thug holds Harvey’s father and threatens to kill him if Harvey doesn’t
free him.”
“Shit!”
“I’m going there! I’ll stop the thug so Joker won’t have anything to blackmail
Harvey.”
“Go!”
Superman took off; he was aware that the sooner he finished with that the
sooner he could return his full attention to Bruce.
 
Bruce flinched pressing himself on the chair’s back but that only prompted
Luthor to advance; his eyes were gleeful.
“You’re in no position to allow or not allow anything, boy…” he hissed like a
snake. “You had your chance to get my collaboration and favor but you not only
arrogantly turned it down but also humiliated me!”
Bruce shook his head his eyes widened in shock.
Luthor let the armrests and stood strutting towards the covered with heavy
curtains window his back on Bruce.
“So…” Bruce kept some shaking in his voice to show that he was scared but tried
to put on a brave face “you’ve been lying to me…”
Luthor yanked his head and rolled his eyes turning towards Bruce.
“And it was so easy! Because you’re so stupid! Why collaborating with your
petty enterprises when I can get them for myself?”
Bruce shook his head in refusal, permitting some of his defiance show in his
eyes.
“You won’t get Wayne Enterprises!”
Luthor’s laughter shook the silence of the room.
“And who’s going to stop me?” he arched his eyebrows. “You?!” he stretched his
hand to point at Bruce. “The holster for Falcone’s dick!” he narrowed his eyes
wickedly. “And from what I hear: for many other dicks, as well…” he walked
closer to Bruce who was holding the chair’s armrests scared. “You are a full
time whore, Wayne” he lolled his head on the side “Falcone saw that to the
beautiful boy and couldn’t let you die” he arched his eyebrows “and what a
pitty that would have been… I bet Stark was banging you years before Falcone
did…Ol’ Falcone must have been seeing stars and hearing angels everytime he
stuffed that small, soft ass…”
Bruce’s eyes bulged not because Luthor’s words were poison – he could ignore
those mundane insults – but because it was time Luthor made his move. He
tightened his hold on the chair and stood up.
“Enough!” he exclaimed and turned towards the door of the vast room only to see
Mercy Graves pointing at him with her squat, silver gun.
Bruce narrowed his eyes and looked at Luthor who smirked viciously.
“You won’t go anywhere, boy!”
 
Catwoman clenched her fists as her zoom-night vision goggles enabled her to see
everything in Luthor’s suite. Her body tensed and her heart gave a jolt but she
remained squatted. Bruce told them to not react whatever Luthor did; Bruce had
the control, she tried to soothe her fear.
“Luthor’s bodyguard entered the room and has Bruce at gun point” she informed
the others keeping her voice cool.
 
“I know, damn it!” Tony exclaimed furious flying in ultrasound speed to Malibu.
“I diverted the transmission from Bruce’s lenses to Ironman’s system; I can see
everything…And do nothing!” he gritted his teeth.
“Bruce asked to not intervene before the other players enter the field.”
Selina’s calm voise answered him.
Tony mumbled a curse.
“Either way I won’t be there on time! I’m gonna rip that dirtbug in pieces!
Superman knows?”
“I didn’t tell him because I don’t trust that he won’t burst there and kick
their sorry asses.”
Tony frowned changing slightly his course to not collide with a jet.
“He isn’t watching?”
“Joker’s thug holds a hostage and Joker threatens to blow the bridge if Dent
doesn’t free him – does Harvey have the codes?”
Tony was cursing loudly now.
“Not Joker too! Fuck! I don’t believe it! All my planets are retrograde… Yeah!
He has the codes along with Gordon but I’ll change them from here…”
Selina pressed her lips.
“Isn’t that cruel for Dent?”
Tony shook his head.
“If Joker goes free it’ll be cruel for the entire Gotham…” and then huffed
thinking about the hostage and the people on the bridge. “Let’s hope that the
alien will make it.”
 
“I see the bridge” Superman told Selina. “Also I hear and see police coming;
Gordon is with them. I’ll try to be discreet.”
“A 6’3’’ and 220 pounds flying man clad in red and blue is a tough thing to
conceal…”Selina chuckled.
“Shit! I see the poor man suspended by his wrists from the tallest tower of the
bridge and Joker’s thug holding a gun and a big knife ready to cut the cable;
there’s mayhem underneath from the trapped cars. I scan the bridge for any
bombs. How’re things going in Luthor’s suite?”
She answered right away because a hesitation could raise suspicions.
“Everything under control.”
Clark sighed and clenched more his fists.
“I’ll get back soon and see for myself – with all due respect.”
 
“I won’t free you, you shithead!” Harvey spat through clenched teeth.
Joker’s eyes widened and he pouted his lips.
“A-ma-zing! Be-ha-ve, Segnor DA…This is vocabulary of a creep’s son…” his eyes
stopped abruptly their frantic movement to pierce the fuming DA. “If I don’t
get out in 5 minutes the guy who saved you will die and the people on the
bridge too!” his voice was like grinder on metal. “I, unlike you, have nothing
to lose…”
 
“Lex, I…” Bruce’s voice trembled.
“It’s Mister Luthor for you, boy!” he shouted and walked furious to him but
Bruce faking the scared retreated till the arch’s wall halted him.
Luthor pressed his body on Bruce’s, his teeth shining in a triumphant grin.
“Why seducing you when I can get what I want forcibly?” he snorted and his lips
rushed to capture Bruce’s mouth, but Bruce turned his head on the other side
Luthor’s lips finding air.
 
Talia watched on the GCN screen footage from the Adam’s Bridge, one eyebrow
raised slightly.
Bane had his arms crossed and watched unimpressed.
“Batman won’t show up to save the day…” he sneered.
“They relayed that witnesses saw him roaming the Narrows…The same tactic used
for fooling Fury…”
“Doppelganger?”
Talia shook her head.
“Too risky; more likeable an advanced technology hologram…”
Bane nodded eyeing the screen.
“Could this influense our plans?”
Talia stood up.
“Not in the least; come, we have somewhere to go.”
Bane frowned.
“You’ll come too?”
Talia smirked and her eyes sparkled.
“I wouldn’t lose it for all the power of the world.”
 
Harvey cast fast glances to his smartphone, sweatdrops spurting in his
forehead. His father’s face was battered – those bastards! – and the pain from
having all his weight hanging from his wrists was distorting his features.
Joker giggled.
“C’mon, Harv; dooon’t hide from good ooool’ Joker. That man isn’t a random
dude. He put his body in front of you to save you an’ you took him in your
house…What diiiiirty littl’ secret you' ve got?”
Harvey turned to him gritting his teeth and shaking his fist in the air.
“Stop this! Monster! If he dies, I’ll kill you!”
Joker shook his head pouting his lips and tsking in disapproval.
“You doooon’t want to break the law by freeing me and you’ll kill a man?!”
Harvey stormed to him stopped by the bars.
“You’re not a man!”
Joker tittered.
“I told you those bars are fru-strating…”
But then a scream from his phone bent Harvey’s knees.
 
Luthor growled and pulled a small gun from his pants’ pocket; he put the barrel
under Bruce’s jaw and yanked his head to face him.
“Don’t you dare move your knees!” Luthor’s voice was distorted from anger and
embarrassing memories.
Bruce began rasping and sweating, his eyes blinking rapidly under Luthor’s mad
stare.
“Mi…Mister Luthor…”
Luthor smirked and his eyes filled with glee.
“You’re scared of guns, huh?” he brushed with the barrel Bruce’s right arm and
chuckled, feeling the shivers running his captive’s body. “Guns can do so much
harm” Luthor made his voice mockingly sweet “cause so much pain…”
He pressed the barrel in the flesh and Bruce gasped which Luthor took advantage
capturing Bruce’s mouth and thrusting his tongue inside. Kissing bruisingly and
bitting Bruce’s soft lips.
When he detached his mouth returning the gun’s barrel under the younger man’s
jaw Bruce’s lips bled. Luthor savored his captive’s freightened eyes and his
other hand caressed Bruce’s cheek making his rasps go asthmatic.
Luthor took the gun and backhanded Bruce shoving him to the floor.
 
Selina’s held for some time breath came out with a pained gasp her feet ready
for an acrobatic move that will get her there.
“What happened?!” Clark’s worried voice came from the com and woke her up.
“Nothing, honey” she said nonchalant though her voice was a bit throaty.
“Everything under control.”
 
The police helicopter was flying above the bridge and Schiff was watching it
awed and giggling.
“Like King Kong!” he yelled and waved to the helicopter.
“We have target”a snipper from the helicopter said to Jim who was watching with
his hands on the waist. “Waiting orders.”
Jim turned to Bullock.
“Call him again to surrender” he said with his trademark composure.
But the man was in his world just giggling.
“Ask him what he wants!” Jim snapped.
A wave of giggles was again his answer.
“The snipper can finish that…” Bullock offered angry.
Jim shook his head and pressed his lips.
“He is probably mentally disturbed; I don’t want to kill him.”
Bullock held Jim’s upper arm.
“If you don’t his hostage will die and maybe more people!”
“Commissioner!” a young officer rushed to him. “Dr. Quinzel from Arkham says
that this man is Thomas Schiff, a schizophrenic that was released during Dr.
Crane’s administration.”
Bullock looked at Gordon.
“Give the okay to shoot him: there’s no way we negotiate with him and the poor
man already screamed once: how long you think he can last up there?”
Jim breathed deeply raising his eyes to the suspended man.
“He’s Steve Petrou, Falcone’s thug who testified against him and now works for
Wayne Enterprises: he took Joker’s bullet to save Dent.”
Bullock nodded.
“The man is a hero; we can’t let him die like this…For fuck’s sake, Jim!”
Another louder scream pierced Jim’s guts.
Where’s Batman? Jim sighed internally and raised the walkie-talkie to his
mouth. He gulped.
“Shoot.”
 
Superman had scanned the entire bridge, even the cables and the cars underneath
that were too many. There wasn’t any bomb. Joker bluffed?
And then he heard the second cry of the hostage whom he recognized as Harvey’s
father and scanned his body for appraising his condition: the man was exhausted
and feigning rapidly, he was seriously injured recently.
It was then that his vision caught a nearby signal that wasn’t flesh and blood.
He scanned Schiff’s body and his eyes widened: a bomb was flashing inside him!
He saw the red light from the snipper’s rifle.
 
Harvey heard the second cry and as the news camera zoomed at his father’s
sweaty, death pale face he growled. Old Steve wouldn’t last much: his mind
filled with the moments when his father rushed in front of him to save his
life, the moments he was holding him in his arms, his father’s blood drenching
him; the moments he had yelled and cursed him when found out that he worked for
Falcone; old Steve’s face distorted from pain and regret and despair as his
only son shut the door behind him forever.
He closed his eyes.
“Fine! Tell your man to let my father go and I’ll turn off the bars.”
Joker gave a loud sarcastic laughter.
“Mother told me to neeeever trust the lawmen: turn off the bars an’ then I’ll
use your phone to speak to my man. Huuuuurry now” he sang “the old man’s hands
must be tearing…”
Harvey gritted his teeth and ran to the panel that was concealed under the
first layer of the wall and as the system recognized his iris, a series of
numbers showed up on the wall. He inhaled deeply, a knot forming in his guts
with the realization that he was betraying everything he believed and fought
for and that he was unleashing a deathly threat for Gotham and Bruce Wayne.
That would definitely cost his job not to mention send him in prison yet that
was the least of his worries; his father’s life was his priority.
He pressed the code.
 
“Well, hello, Stark!”
Tony stopped abruptly; he hadn’t reached Malibu yet, he was flying above the
ocean when the hateful voice scratched his ears. Yet his systems hadn’t warned
him for the Iron Monger.
A rocket came rapidly on him and he barely missed it. Nonetheless, his armor
was hit and Tony lost some height.
Iron Monger laughed with his irritating, metallic, deep laughter.
“You didn’t see me coming, huh? I’m much better than you, Stark! You’re going
to die!”
Tony shook his head, rolling his eyes.
“Gimme a break!” he boosted himself avoiding the avalance of laser beams his
enemy launched. “Batman defeated you…” he sneered being able now to see Iron
Monger’s gigantic armor.
“Yeah, but he isn’t here to save you!” he sniggered and armed the grenades in
his right arm and fired at Tony who made somersaults he had installed in the
armors’ movement range inspired by Selina. “Oh!” Iron Monger tittered. “You can
be a gymnast or a ballerina- too bad you’ll be dead before you can change
carier.”
Tony clenched his teeth; he wanted to counterattack, his systems scanning Iron
Monger’s armor comparing the results with Bruce’s notes. Of course he had his
buddy’s technology that enabled him to dissolve Stane’s armor at the office yet
he first wanted to secure Pepper.
“Where’s Pepper?” he asked anger waving his voice and admired how Bruce could
be so calm when facing his enemies – damn, that ninja training!
 
Superman dived to Jim.
“Commissioner, stop the snippers! The bomb is inside Schiff!”
Jim’s and Bullock’s eyes bulged.
“Sonovabitch!” the tough lieutenant exclaimed and Jim brought again the walkie-
talkie in his mouth.
“Stop! I repeat: order cancelled! The suspect has a bomb inside him!” he
yelled.
Superman watched eagerly the red light still dancing on Schiff’s body who
giggled ecstatic and Clark was ready to storm there to take the helicopter away
when the red light vanished and the helicopter left.
 
Harvey entered the huge code but a red flashing message told him that there was
an error.
“No way!” he mumbled and tried again with shaking hands.
Joker rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Hehe! It seems that moooore mommies taught their kids the same thing with
mine!”
 
Bruce brushed his bleeding mouth and supported his slumped body on his elbow to
look at Luthor; he was aware that the ruby with Luthor’s initial had left him a
bleeding L in his cheek.
Luthor approached triumphantly slow and towered Bruce, smirking at him with his
eyes jeering and dead serious at the same time.
“You’ll get the only position you deserve with your master…”
Bruce shook his head shyly still caressing his bruised cheek and mouth.
“I…I don’t have a master…This…is…”
He cried when Luthor’s ridiculously expensive shoe sank in his underbelly.
“Don’t interrupt me, you filthy scum!” Luthor shouted and then calm regarded
his folded captive and lolled his head on the side. “I owed you that! When your
master takes you back I’ll get my turn on you. After all, that’s your only
use…Mercy, call the guys to get him in the car.”
At last, Bruce thought but didn’t let Batman’s steel determination show in his
teary eyes.
“Stand up!” Luthor ordered pointing the gun and when Bruce hardly managed to
support himself on his shaking legs he grabbed him from the upper arm shoving
him to his men who just entered. “Take him to the car in the underground
parking and leave from the back exit but make sure that people will see you.”
As his men dragged violently Bruce he tsked.
“Gentlemen…” he said “be gentle!” he laughed.
 
Stane laughed which was really outrageous since Tony not only had to maneuver
himself to avoid Iron Monger’s laser and rockets together but also watched
Luthor abusing Bruce; he knew that his friend knew how to get a hit without
being much injured yet Luthor didn’t know that.
“You know, Stark, I was sure that you’d choose your bimbo over your buddy –
your dick was always the most important thing for you!”
Tony’s eyes narrowed to slits and his jaw hurt from the clenching.
“Where’s Pepper, you useless tin?!”
Stane chuckled and launched a missile that stirred the waters of Pacific that
still sparkled under the Californian summer sun, as Tony ducked at the last
second.
And then a cell made of energy emerged behind Iron Monger and Tony saw Pepper
hanging from an energy chain around her outstretched neck, her hands bound
behind her back and her legs attached to the bottom of the yellow, glowing cell
from a chain binding her ankles together. Tony realized it was Dr. Banner’s
perpetual, self sustained energy that the scientist trusted to S.H.I.E.L.D.:
damn their naivety!
Pepper’s eyes widened in relief seeing him and Tony smiled forgetting that his
face plate was on.
“Don’t be afraid, babe; big Tony is here!”
“Tony, watch out!” she yelled as dagger bombs stormed like waterfall at Tony
and some of them pierced his armor unbalancing him.
Tony dodged and flew towards the sun blinding his enemy who grinding his teeth
made a move with his hand tightening the loop around Pepper’s neck causing her
whimper.
“You coward bastard!” Tony saw Luthor handing Bruce to his men and his heart
beat faster. “Enough with this shit!”
He fired his magnetic missiles but Stane just made a step to the side the
missiles ignoring the metallic beast and blowing the waters.
“That’s the best trick you can do?! I know your every ace, you fool!”
 
Catwoman straightened her posture seeing the white limousine leaving from the
back exit of the hotel; her green eyes glowed from hatred for Luthor.
She began following the car seeing through Bruce’s eyes the luxurious interior
and the two giants crushing him between them at the back seat; they held guns.
Selina noticed that some reporters managed to shoot some pictures just before
the car got lost behind a curve. They were alerted by some bystanders since
Luthor didn’t care to hide his impressive car.
“What are you up to, Luthor?” she wondered mounting the monstrous bike.
 
Bruce suffocated between the two thugs wanted to smirk: so that was Luthor’s
plan for exonerating himself. The lady of the Shadows would be outraged but
still Luthor wouldn’t get away.
He kept casting freightened glances to his captors that caused their snorts and
sneers but inside he was preparing.
 
Harvey’s smartphone rang and startled the agitated, covered with cold sweat man
who kept fumbling with the bloody code until the panel locked.
“What is it, Robert?” he snapped at the phone.
“Harvey, is everything okay?” his colleague asked comfused by his superior’s
tone.
Harvey rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Nothing, Robert, tell me.”
“The program you told me to watch opened and broadcasts footage from Luthor’s
suite…”
That was what Batman wanted them to see?
“And?”
“He attacked Wayne and gave him to his minions to take somewhere.”
“Damn! Issue a warrant and go arrest him; Gordon knows?”
He had seen the Commissioner at the bridge but assumed that he left someone
watching the USB as himself.
 
Jim’s personal cell phone rang as they were discussing their action. It was
Montoya whom Jim had left to wait for the mysterious data.
“What?! From all the damned nights in Gotham this is the worst! Take some
officers and go there; call the DA’s office; Harvey surely issued a warrant
already; send cars to find Luthor’s limousine. I’ll come as soon as possible…”
But Superman had already taken off; he had heard Montoya’s message and
clenching his jaw flew at full speed to the tallest tower of the bridge to end
that nonsense and ran to his Star.
 
“Baaaad news?” Joker lowered his head and made puppy eyes. “I have moooore: in
a minute the bomb goes BOOOOOOM!!! and I’m not out of this fine estamblishment
to tell my moron servant to defuse it…”
Harvey shook his head, his eyes panicked. He unlocked the common metallic bars
and opened the door.
“See?!” he yelled at Joker. “I did my best!”
But Joker glared at him from narrowed, glimmering eyes.
“You deprived me of my Bru - cey and I’ll kill your…FATHER! A-ha! Hehe! I’m
right, huh!” he hopped inside the cell seeing Harvey’s dumbfounded expression.
Harvey bared his teeth.
“Actually, I’m not the one who took away Bruce” Joker stopped his childish
hopping, his laughter freezing on his scars and Harvey smirked gleefully. “It’s
Luthor!”
 
Superman grabbed Schiff and in a blur took him away from the tower, unfazed by
the man’s efforts to stab and shoot him and then hit him with the gun’s handle.
Actually, the knife shattered, the bullets ended and the gun’s handle wrinkled.
He may have taken the man away but the bridge wasn’t still safe; he could tell
that the bomb had great range and though Superman wouldn’t be injured, he
didn’t want the poor schizophrenic to die a horrible death.
He heard the ambulanches’ sirens stopping right behind police’s barrier; half a
minute remained…He looked frantically around him: what Bruce would have done?
Oh! He couldn’t think like his Star’s brilliant mind so he did the only thing
that came to him. Under Schiff’s amazed eyes sank his hand inside the man and
pulled out the bomb that wasn’t bigger than a cell phone.
Holding with one hand the giggling Schiff and the bomb with the bloodstained
one he pointed his heat vision to the man’s open belly sealing the brim. He
sped to give the man to the paramedics and carry the bomb to the open sea where
he dropped it in the ocean.
 
Tony engaged Iron Monger to an endless dance of manouvers and chasing counting
on his opponent’s heavier and unflexible armor. Stane was sniggering all the
time but Tony had taken some lessons in patience from Bruce.
He let Iron Monger almost reach him and made a back flip that brought him on
Monger’s back. He activated his nano waves to hit Monger’s systems and launched
his micro-missiles to crush the channels that fuelled his armor with energy
from the arc reactor.
Iron Monger let out an enraged cry and began falling.
Tony disentangled himself and ran to Pepper; Dr. Banner after Batman’s
revelations informed Tony about this project so he knew what to do. He
deactivated his face plate and gave a wide grin.
“Your Tony is reliable in every field…” he winked and used his ultrasound
microwaves to deactivate the energy field just enough to catch Pepper with one
arm.
But then something hit him right on the chest not shutting out his armor but
causing a black out in all the data he had in his systems.
“Oh, this isn’t good…” he mumbled diving with Pepper in his arms.
 
Joker’s eyes became dark and enflamed; he walked to the neon blue bars baring
his teeth, his scars stretching horribly in his face.
“Open the damn cell or your father and the morons in the bridge won’t be the
only to die!”
“You know I can’t, you fool! I tried!”
And then all of a sudden the bars quivered, thinned and finally disappeared,
leaving Joker free.
Joker looked around amazed.
“And, when you want something, all universe conspires in helping you to achieve
it” he yelled at the ceiling and just passed Harvey walking like a robot
determined and indifferent to everything around him.
And then the distant echo of a blast made Harvey’s heart shatter and tears
burst to his eyes.
“Father…” he whispered and instead of crying stormed behind Joker.
He reached him at the MCU’s foyer where he snatched a gun from an officer who
was chatting with his colleagues and pointed it at Joker, clenching his teeth.
“I told you, scum, that if you killed my father, I was going to fucking kill
you!”
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at the mad DA and Joker free
from his cell. Joker stopped calmly in his tracks and turned smiling.
“Now, that’d be reaaaaally funny: the wonder DA killing a criminal inside the
Major Crimes Unit! Fan-ta-stic!”
Harvey’s face distorted and his finger tensed on the trigger.
“No, Harvey!”
 
Luthor slumped on his huge armchair smoked a really thick cigar, sipping the
champagne from the dinner table, a smug look all over his features.
“And now Wayne Enterprises!”
Mercy Graves watched him expressionless.
“You realize that Wayne is transferred with your car that everyone saw leaving
the building?”
“Exactly, Mercy” he nodded smiling.
Mercy frowned.
“I just sent Bruce home with my bodyguards; it’s not my fault a terrorist group
attacked my men and took the boy!”
Mercy’s eyes flared up and Luthor nodded.
“That bitch and her shitty group will be the only responsible for the
kdnapping; they saw Wayne coming to my hotel, watched the building, followed my
limousine and then attacked killing my bodyguards and taking the poor thing…”
Mercy smirked.
“That’s…”
Luthor’s eyebrow arched.
“Genious?”
 
“What’s going on?” Pepper nestled in Tony’s one armed hug asked.
“The blast caused the data in my systems go crazy…” he kept dodging laser beams
and missiles while sending some to his opponent.
“And now?”
“I can maneuver this armor with my mind’s power – Bruce inspired me to do that:
he told me that I can’t rely just on metal and high tech and that” he
maneuvered them “the human mind is the most powerful processor in the
universe.”
Pepper’s eyes widened.
“You mean that we fly with your mind’s power?”
Tony smiled and made a large circle avoiding Stane’s fires and getting again
the brilliant setting sun behind him.
“Oh, yes, baby!”
 
Superman returned to the bridge a bit shaken from the pressure wave from the
blast and broke the cable holding Harvey’s father who miraculously was still
conscious.
“Thank you, Superman” the shaking man stuttered.
Underneath the people on the bridge start were applauding and cheering.
“You’re a very tough man, Mr. Petrou” Clark smiled and gave the man to the
paramedics.
He scanned the place for Jim but the Commissioner had left Bullock in charge
and left to chase Luthor’s limousine. Superman made an impressive dive in the
air and took off faster than a jet to find Bruce; he could listen to his Star’s
tranquil heartbeat yet he couldn’t mimick it. Adams’ Bridge was on the other
edge of the city and albeit the faster being on the planet he trempled that he
won’t make it on time.
 
Bruce heard along with his captors loud bangs as if meteorits fell to the car’s
roof; of course Bruce knew what it was but the ignorant men tightened their
grips on their guns looking around flabbergasted.
“Don’t ya dare move a muscle, scum!” one of them ordered him and he gulped
seeing the large man loading his gun.
All of a sudden a shriek made them jump and the car halted abruptly. There was
perfect silence and the men locked the doors; Bruce’s eyes watching still and
ready.
One of the men opened the intercom to speak with the driver but he was met with
silence.
“Ron! Ron! Speak, ya sonovabitch! Stop losing time!”
The second man impatient pressed a button to open the inner camera to see the
front cabin.
Bruce gasped at the image and his captors began shaking.
“Sonov…”
“Shit!”
Their colleague was slumped on the driver’s seat with his head severed, only a
thin lane of flesh holding it.
The thug on his right shaking uncontrollably pushed the button that enabled the
passenger to ignite the engine and drive but the car didn’t move. The second
thug looked at him with bulged eyes.
“What we’re gonna do?”
The other tightened his grip on the gun, grinding his teeth.
“Show these mothe’fuckers! On three we storm out and fuck them!”
Bruce opened his mouth to talk them out of this but the one who spoke, grabbed
his jaw and clenched it yanking the youth’s head.
“Stay her’, pup, and don’t even think of sneak out!”
Bruce wanted to roll his eyes and as the men at the three opened their doors he
brushed their necks knocking them out instantly saving them from the Katanas
that fell like lightnings right where their heads should have been.
He jumped outside the car avoiding the sword that targeted a neck probably not
his and elbowed the attacker swiftly on the jaw sending him to slump
unconscious.
He looked around him with calm, determined eyes: he was in the Palisades
without any innocent bystander. He saw around him people clad in black ninja
attires ready to attack; he calculated fifty of them and arched an eyebrow.
“You know you can’t prevail, Wayne!” he heard Bane’s jeering voice, figured
that his voice came from far, not among his assailants.
“I didn’t know you of a babbler!” he answered glaring at the spot where he knew
Bane was and clenched his fists.
“Bring him down!”
 
Harvey’s distressed eyes turned to the voice he loved so much and saw Rachel
entering the foyer clearly upset.
“Joker doesn’t deserve that! This is what he wants! Don’t do him the favor!”
Joker yanked his head and giggled.
“Hehehehehe, uhuhahahaha! Rachel, my dear! My former assistant!”
He gritted his teeth suddenly and attacked a shocked police officer grabbing
his gun and ran towards the exit.
Harvey shoot but not at Joker wanting just to scare him but he stopped, turned
around and calmly pointed his gun at the DA who frowned. Yet Rachel didn’t
hesitate and tackled Joker, his bullet hitting the wall.
She punched him hard on the guts and kicked his groin.
The officers waking from their shock rushed to get Joker and Rachel with her
hair messed stood determined only to find herself inside Harvey’s arms who was
shaking both from his devastation for his father’s death and his joy to see
Rachel again.
“Come here, babe” he said and caressed her hair.
But then Joker slipped from the officers and ran to the exit, unsuspicious
citizens blocking the officers’ target. Joker let a shrieking laughter.
“Harv, you know, youuuur girlfriend was my accomplice for years an’ she hit on
you because I ordered her! She told me about your daaaddy!” his screeching
giggle pierced the silence and slowly vanished into the night.
 
Tony raised his palm and sent the energy waves that dissolved Iron Monger’s
armor but despite his mass Stane managed to dodge it and answered with a
strange purple beam that Tony dived to avoid.
“Joker beam?” he jeered Stane and took more height to launch his invisible nano
waves from his knee launchers.
Stane didn’t feel anything and laughed with Tony’s move.
“Soccer won’t save you!”
He launched again the purple beam towards Pepper and Tony maneuvered to protect
her and was hit on the back of his head, the sudden loss in concentration
losing the armor’s control and sending them to crush to the ocean; Tony
grimaced as Pepper’s shriek pierced his ear.
“That’s for your mental power?” she snorted when both in the water.
“I have to take lessons from Bruce…”
“How you’re going to fight him now?” Pepper asked panicked.
But they saw Stane diving too having clearly lost any control of his junk. Tony
smirked.
“He’s worse than me; the nano waves worked…”
And suddenly Iron Monger was in fire, Stane’s shrieks making Pepper hid her
face in Tony’s shoulder who watched disgusted the metal melting along with
flesh.
“I didn’t do that…”
Pepper sobbed in Tony’s shoulder as what was left from Stane sank to the
bottom. Tony deactivated his face plate and caressed her drenched hair as the
sun sank in the golden colored waters.
She finally raised her tearstained eyes to regard him.
“You realize that here swim sharks; we’ll be their dinner” she said business-
like.
“Not when I said Jarvis beforehand to send Happy.”
The motor of a fast approaching yaght pierced the sound of waves and Tony
kissed Pepper’s lips aware that with his damaged armor he couldn’t get in
Gotham; he wished that at this very moment Bruce was kissed by his chosen one…
 
Bruce was in the center of a thick circle of enemies kicking and punching with
hands, legs and elbows. His hits were all targeted at the right spots to
neutralize his enemies at once; he was outnumbered.
 
Catwoman’s bike ran in full speed, leaving Chelsea Bridge behind and heading
for the place where Luthor’s limousine stopped.
“Where are you, Supes?!” he growled at the com. “They attacked the car!”
“I’m coming! I see police cars rushing there…”
 
Bruce’s elbows broke the jaws of two men at once while he made a full twirl
with his stretched leg cracking the ribs of five ninjas and his head butting
two of them who rushed to grab him. When a wave of new opponents attacked him
before the last unconscious ninja fell down, he levitated his body to avoid
their blows grabbing two of them from the hoods and smashing their heads
together as both his legs kicked other two sending them feet away.
Bane chuckled from afar.
“You can’t win, whore.”
“Yes, he can, you lousy bastard!” a feminine, playful voice answered as Bane
heard men’s pained howls from the other end of the field.
Selina’s eyes sparkled in the dark and her jaw was clenched as her stilettoes
stabbed the groins of two.
“Hold on, Bruce! We’re two now!”
Bane looked astonished at the leather clad young woman. Who was she? Damn!
Selina elbowed one and back kicked another coming from behind as Bruce in the
other end grabbed one from the head and heaved him above his head crushing him
to his charging comrads. Bruce’s head throbbed blurring slightly his eyes.
 
Mercy frowned as demanding knocks shook the suit’s door. Luthor rolled his eyes
really pissed.
“What exactly they didn’t understand from ‘I don’t want to be disturbed’?! Open
and whoever it is will be on for real trouble.”
But as Mercy opened the door grinding her teeth GCPD’s budgets greeted her and
Robert showed her the warrant.
“Mercy, who the hell is it?!” Luthor annoyed for his bodyguard’s delay strutted
there frowning seeing police officers and a man dressed with civilian filling
his foyer. “How may I help you?” he changed to his pretend politeness.
“You’re under arrest for assault, kidnapping and collaboration with terrorists”
Renee Montoya said as a police man handcuffed Mercy Graves.
“What?!”
 
Clark was flying in full speed to Palisades. His heartbeat was loud and drummed
in his ears but still he could hear Bruce fighting with an unbelievably calm
heartbeat and Selina joining him.
He smiled; his Star had planned brilliantly keeping Selina’s presence a secret
till the last moment. Hold on, he said mentally, I’m coming.
And then he was met with an invisible wall bouncing him off.
 
Talia cast a glance at her tablet the signal informing her that Stane was dead;
she smiled satisfied and focused again on the battle before the trees that hid
her savoring how her slave fought even dressed in fancy clothes minus his
jacket that at some point pulled off to use as a loop tackling two of his
attackers and knocking them out with two elegant heel hits simultaneously to
the men’s neck.
And that mysterious woman fighting remarkably at the other end stopping more
opponents attacking Bruce…Talia’s eyes the only visible part from her clad in
black face sparkled: Bruce was an admirable strategist: he kept a hidden ace
for the confrontation. He arched an eyebrow; Bruce figured their plan and
played along to make her reveal herself.
No problem…She wanted to finally reveal herself to him along with her own
hidden ace.
She untied the belt of her black silken kimono and let it slid from her body
revealing her traditional black ninja attire; she fisted the hair of her ace.
“That’s enough!” she didn’t have to raise too much her voice for her soldiers
to cease fighting.
Both Bruce and Selina looked at the place where the voice came.
“Miranda Tate” Bruce spat and seeing her smug stare Ra’s came to his mind.
“Ra’s’ daughter!”
Talia lolled her head.
“A brilliant mind! Call me Mistress Talia, Bruce. I think it’s time to
surrender yourself and follow your destiny.”
Bruce yanked his head, the power of his stare colliding with Talia’s despite
the distance and the men between them.
“I don’t believe in destiny; you have to fight hard to get what you want.”
Talia lolled her head.
“Fine” she said coldly and yanked the man she had kneeled before her for Bruce
to see. “Is this enough ‘fight’ for you?”
Bruce’s eyes widened in shock as Selina’s: Talia Al Ghul stretched Alfred’s
head fisting his hair. She had a sharp, shining knife grazing the old man’s
jugular. Alfred’s shoulder was bleeding heavily worrying Bruce and Selina but
the brave man smiled to his young master.
“Don’t listen to her, sir!” he winked and sank his working elbow to the woman’s
belly with enough force to startled her and slip her hold.
Bruce having understood Alfred’s thought beforehand began just pushing the men
between him and his butler launching them away; Selina doing the same on the
other end to approach too.
And then a gigantic mass rose in front of Bruce blocking his march.
 
Superman knew that bizarre energy; he had felt it in the forest when he held
Bruce.
He looked more carefully and saw the sky waving forming a shape; a transparent,
huge shape.
Suddenly, the imperceptible outline filled with granite and Clark could see a
giant with silver spikes instead of hair and two small ivory horns at the two
sides of his forehead. His red-blood cat like irises focused on Clark and his
meaty lips formed a smirk.
 
“You don’t have your armor to save you” Bane jeered.
Bruce was enraged that Bane blocked him from Alfred who despite his injury
tried to run away.
“I didn’t wear my armor when I defeated Ra’s…”
Bane yanked his head laughing and Bruce kept his eyes still.
“He was absorbed in your ass not the fight!”
“You’re better than him then? In talking?!”
Bane’s eyes flashed enraged and the mass stormed against Bruce pointing a
hammer fist to the younger man’s jaw that Bruce dodged easily as the second
punch that came rapidly to smash his stomach. His palm blocked another punch
using Bane’s surprise to sink his own fist to Bane’s underbelly and elbow to
his jaw.
Bane growled and jerked his foot finding barely Bruce’s knee as the younger man
twisted his body to kick Bane’s face making the man stumble a moment before
yanking his head and launching an avalance of punches and kicks that Bruce
stopped with his palms and legs in a perfectly synchronized dance that broke
when Bruce’s head butted Bane’s head making the man held his head with both
hands. Bruce was in pain too but his agony for Alfred left everything else out.
He saw with shocked eyes Talia catching again Alfred and began his jump when
Bane chokeheld him. He growled, slipped the giant’s grip and did something he
hadn’t done again: stood in front of Bane.
As Talia made to put her knife again in Alfred’s vein someone chokeheld her and
she realized that it was Bruce. But she was seeing Bane attacking Bruce only to
grasp…thin air… Realization made her eyes sparkle.
“That ancient skill of illusive reflections was lost through generations!
You’re truly a miracle!”
In a move she was free of his hold and challenging him with her eyes as well as
smiling.
“Let’s discover your other magnifiscent skills, Batman!”
Selina had managed to approach.
“Τake Alfred and go!” Bruce told her calmly.
“I won’t leave you!” she shouted her face burning from anger and agony.
Bruce took his eyes from Talia’s smirk and locked eyes with Selina and Alfred.
“No, Master Bruce!”
“Ηe’s bleeding, for goodness’ sake! Take him and go!”
His eyes were speaking to her, saying to her that only she had the chance to
save Alfred because if both attempted to run the ninjas were going to stop them
and Alfred didn’t have the luxury of time. Besides Clark was coming for him.
Selina numb grabbed Alfred who tried to resist but was already too weak from
the blood loss that almost fainted. Selina used her agility to slither between
dark bushes taking Alfred away seeing Bruce engaging in battle with the evil
woman. She meant to leave Alfred somewhere safe and return to the battle but
the old man fainted, the bleeding getting worse and her eyes filled with tears
as she reached the bike. She settled Alfred and mounted behind him igniting the
engine and speeding up.
“Where are you, Superman?!” she screamed with husky voice in her com. “Bruce
needs you!”
 
“You’re that demon” Clark said his blood freezing hearing Selina’s cracked
voice. “I have work to do!”
But the power stopped him again; the demon smirking.
“You’re nothing even if humans consider you a god!”
Superman shook his head.
“Fine!” he flew to the opposite direction but Bagdana reformed in front of him
blocking his path.
“He chose you to copulate; he is wrong once again!”
Clark gritted his teeth.
“Leave Bruce alone! He’s not your lost mate!”
“He belongs to me!” Bagdana gritted his teeth.
“Bruce doesn’t belong to anyone!”
“I can offer him immortality, what can you offer him?”
Clark yanked proudly his head.
“What he cherishes most: freedom!” he let his eyes redden with his rage and
sent flames to the demon who however sniggered.
“Lava is my realm, you foolish alien!”
Superman clenched his teeth: Bruce needed him. He blew a wave of frozen air and
the demon for just a second was immobile. Clark rushed towards the Palisades.
 
Bruce’s kick to Talia’s ribs was thwarted by her hand and his hand blocked her
round kick aiming his neck; her hand jerked to hit his eyes but he caught her
hand twisting it to her back chokeholding her; she slithered her leg to wrap
his waist but he jolted still holding her hand. She thrust a back kick to
Bruce’s knee and he pressed her neck momentarily stunning her.
But then a hammer hit his kidney and he let Talia fall to face his new enemy:
Bane came to assist Talia who as got over the effect from Bruce’s hit glared at
her loyal warrior for interfering.
Bruce blocked Bane’s new kick and with an almost invisible move his fingers
sank to the giant’s neck paralyzing his hands and legs.
A piercing pain in his waist made Bruce jerk feeling his legs going instantly
numb but he took a deep inhale and set his body under conscious mental control
as Ra’s taught him, managing to avoid Bane’s headbut.
Another pain this time in the nape of his neck right on the spot where Tony had
put the implant cut his mind’s control over his numb body and his knees bent
slumbing him on the ground.
Talia her engraved special gun in her hand strutted to him without triumph in
her eyes. Her foot caressed Bruce’s cheek that bore the L from Luthor’s ring.
“He’ll pay for that.”
Bruce raised his defiant eyes to lock with hers.
“Checkmate, Bruce…I take the pawn-King.”
Bruce felt the migraine taking over and the pain from the bullets shutting him
down: now, plan B’s success was sure he thought as his lids covered his eyes.
 
Superman flew with more speed than ever but Bagdana reemerged to block his way.
Clark could see police cars crossing Chelsea Bridge to Palisades as Selina’s
bike sped in the opposite direction to Downtown with…Alfred!
“You fuckin' bastard!” he yelled at the demon.
“You won’t keep him! I won’t permit him to die because of you!”
Clark growled frustrated, his Star’s heartbeat falling to unconsciousness.
“Back off, bozzo!” he yelled desperate and Bagdana’s eyes showed realization.
“It’s Bruce!”
“You’re the one killing him!” Clark shouted and the demon dissolved surely
trying to reach his Star.
 
Bagdana could see black clad people carrying Bruce to a fancy, odd jet that
immediately went invisible. He grinded his teeth: he wouldn’t let humans kill
his Lilith again! He made to storm but an unpenetratable invisible wall stopped
him. He screamed outraged: they used repelents! They signed their horrific
deaths; the repelents won’t hold him forever…
 
Clark flew determined clenching his fists and jaw; his eyes watered and the
pressure of wind wasn’t the reason.
He could see Luthor’s white limousine and two people stirring inside. There
were signs of a battle, several ninjas laying unconscious or groaning in pain.
He followed his Star’s scent as police cars flooded the place, their sirens
breaking the silence of the night and Clark’s jaw trembled.
Where the scent stopped he found nothing except blood. There was blood from two
people: most of the blood was unknown but there were some drops that were
Bruce’s. His breath was caught in his lungs forming silent sobs as Gordon
approached his face gloom realizing.
The same thing that broke Clark’s heart: they took Bruce. He failed his Star!
 
***** Chapter 64 *****
Clark Kent sat at the corridor of Leslie’s free clinic; he had made a desperate
search for those who kidnapped Bruce but they didn’t leave any trace. Something
blocked him from hearing Bruce’s heartbeat or breaths and he didn’t have access
to Bruce’s camera lenses though he was sure that there was no feeding from
there – despite all these he knew that his Star hadn’t... He didn’t even let
the thought form: Bruce was still alive – he knew it!
Clark meant to go to the clinic to get information about Alfred’s condition and
continue his search yet when he saw that Selina had left he decided to stay
there. He didn’t want to leave Alfred alone till Stark returned. Bruce would
want someone with Alfred…
He had sent two hasty correspondences to Perry with half heart and for the
first time ignored Lois’ persistent calls: she would want to learn details and
console him but Clark just couldn’t bear it this moment.
He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes; for the first time in his life he
felt exhausted. They took Bruce; he had allowed them to capture Bruce; he
abandoned his Star: he was the most powerful being in this planet and couldn’t
help the man he loved…
He brought his elbows to the knees and let his head sink in his palms.
Thankfully, he had chosen a dark corner that nobody else was around to see the
reporter from Metropolis devastated - not that anyone would make the connection
but this time as much as he loved people, Clark didn’t want any human presence
around him. He preferred to be alone deep in despair and thoughts.
Some hours had passed since they took Bruce and Clark felt like it had been
ages… Yet it was only one after midnight…That night felt too long...And he had
imagined it so different: his Star wanted them to sleep at the greenhouse;
their greenhouse...Bruce had whispered it in his sleep and that meant that he
wanted it so much… He grunted and yanked his head in the air choking a roar.
He heard Stark’s car parking at the back side of the clinic: there weren’t any
reporters on the front yet surely they had ambushed the billionaire at the
private airport. Stark informed him that Pepper was safe and sound, Stane was
killed but managed to cause considerable damage to his armor so he’d come with
his private plane. He didn’t have any energy or mood to go meet Stark; he just
waited there hearing two pairs of feet looming closer: despite her adventure
Pepper was with him.
“How’s Alfred?” Tony asked anxious as soon as he saw Clark slumped in the
chair.
Clark didn’t stand.
“He was out of the surgery an hour ago: Leslie told me that his life isn’t
threarened and she gave him painkillers and sedatives because he was under
shock” his voice was emotionless, flat and his eyes though turned to the
newcomers saw elsewhere.
Pepper sighed sympathizing with him and Tony ran his hand through his hair
shaken to see the Man of Steel in this condition that only made worse what he
knew about Bruce’s abduction. And he didn’t know a lot: the damage in his armor
cut any communication with Selina or Bruce’s lenses, however he was sure that
things were bad because his attempts to speak to Selina, or Alfred failed;
especially, for the first he understood that she had disabled on purpose her
com.
When his jet landed at Gotham reporters were swarming the place having already
learnt that something happened to Gotham’s Prince and that Luthor was in
custody. For the first time he ignored the press and asked from Pepper who had
refused to stay at Malibu to divert them to give him freedom to go check the
location of the assault.
“What happened?” he asked Clark clenching his waist.
Upon arriving on the scene at Palisades, he saw still police officers and
forensics collecting evidence inside a huge cordoned area. Luthor’s white
limousine was in the middle with the back doors hanging open; Tony jumped out
of his Audi and passed under the tape ignoring the officer who had tried to
thwart him.
Lieutenant Stevens, one of Gordon’s trustees, saw Tony and came to him. He
informed him that they found the decapitated body of Luthor’s driver and his
other two thugs half conscious; their guns loaded. Also, they had found several
ninja clad thugs unconscious or beaten hard, indicating that a real battle took
place there; some batarangs that were found there indicated that Batman and
someone else, a female, tried to protect Bruce, failing.
And then Stevens told him about the two sets of blood, one of Bruce and one of
Alfred Pennyworth who was transferred to Dr. Thompkins’ free clinic by the
mysterious woman whom they couldn’t find.
Tony upon hearing about Alfred rushed to his car and sped to the clinic.
Clark stood towering Tony and locked eyes with him.
“I wasn’t there!” he snapped. “I was thwarted by that stupid demon while Bruce
was fighting a lost battle to give Selina the time to take Alfred to the
clinic.”
Tony shook his head.
“I wasn’t there either…” he said sharply.
“Because of me” Pepper offered. “You...you shouldn’t have come.”
Tony lolled his head to her and stabbed her with his glistening eyes.
“You’re a clever girl, you can’t say such bullshit!”
Clark pressed his lips and looked at Pepper who was casting regretful glances
to him aware of his relationship with Bruce. He smiled despite the bleeding
hole in his heart and the knot in his stomach.
“It wasn’t your fault, Miss Potts; Bruce knew that they’d try to lure away
Ironman.”
Tony nodded.
“When you told me about that meeting I believed that you’ll be safer in
Malibu...Fuck!” he punched the wall what Clark thought to do many times but he
didn’t, not wanting to demolish the clinic’s walls. “What was Alfred doing
there?” Tony remembered the blurred points of the story.
Clark shrugged.
“Police found a Lancia registered on Bruce’s name on a side road outside the
Wayne Estate; they must have shot Alfred while in there because they found his
blood.”
Tony’s forehead creased.
“I told him to stay in the cave: the grounds and the Manor don’t show any sign
of intrusion. Something must have happened to make Alfred leave the cave. And
taking the Lancia? It’s the never used car for emergencies when they don’t want
to get recognized.”
“Only Alfred can answer that…” Clark sighed wanting only to be left alone.
“You saw a demon?!” Pepper frowned: she had heard right or it was the shock
from the last hours?
“What demon?” a strict, sharp voice interrupted them.
They turned startled to see Leslie glaring at them with her arms crossed and
her eyebrows knitted; even Clark absorbed in his misery didn’t hear her
approaching having shut the external signals.
As nobody answered her, Leslie nodded determined.
“I think we better speak in private” she said resolute and turned to lead them
to one of the conference rooms when Lucius Fox came from the opposite direction
of the corridor seemingly calm but with a crease on his forehead.
“What’s going on? Where’s Mr. Wayne? They say that he’s been kidnapped...” he
asked.
Leslie gestured to follow her.
“That’s what I’m also asking, Lucius and these two young men will explain to
us.”
She closed the door behind them and turned to face them scowling.
“And now: answers! I hoped that Selina would explain but a nurse told me that
she left when we took Alfred in the surgery.”
Tony was standing with his hands crossed; he just couldn’t sit.
“She probably feels responsible…” he shook his head disapprovingly.
Clark yanked his head and his eyes looked desperate at the ceiling.
“The sole responsible it’s me!” he snapped. “They counted on me; Bruce counted
on me and I wasn’t there!”
Tony looked at him sympathetically and a bit irritated.
“Don’t blame yourself” he snapped. “Bruce wouldn’t want you to talk like this”
he never expected to comfort Superman but he just felt for the man.
Clark was surprised too from Stark’s words yet he couldn’t forgive himself.
“There was Bruce’s blood there! He is injured!” he punched the wall restraining
at the last moment his power in just cracking the wall. “They had to injure him
to subdue his resistance and I was dog-fighting with a jealous demon!” he
lowered his voice.
Leslie looked at Tony for affirmation and he nodded; she closed her eyes: that
was unbelievable!
“Injured?! For goodness’ sake, Bruce is still recuperating!” she inhaled
deeply. “ And I repeat: what demon?” her face was distorted with disbelief and
anger for what happened to Bruce.
Pepper approached Clark and put her hand on his shoulder; Clark raised his
heavy eyes and regarded her.
“Bruce is a very brave and strong man; he’ll make it…”
Clark pressed his lips and nodded.
Lucius was sitting at one of the conference chairs and listened eagerly. He
remembered the discussion he had with Bruce about demons: of course he had
suspected something but hearing it as reality was shocking.
Tony lolled his head, his eyes were tired.
“It’s an ancient creature that believes Bruce is his long lost mate and chases
him” he sighed seeing Leslie’s raised eyebrows. “I know it sounds preposterous
but Bruce is facing it years.”
Leslie’s eyes widened.
“Years?!”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, cast a glimpse at Superman and realizing
that he wasn’t in the mood to say much explained to Leslie under Pepper’s
intrigued and shocked eyes and Lucius’ interested composure.
Leslie rubbed her temple shaking his head.
“When we found that Bruce had two different DNAs I never imagined that this
would have so many implications... Disastrous implications!” she closed her
eyes for a few seconds remembering the few months old infant who cried
desperately from pain; her eyes watered but she snapped them open resolutely.
“Who took Bruce? Alfred came around at some point during his transfer to the
surgery and mumbled some things but he was so shocked and devastated that I
couldn’t make any sense. Reporters say that Luthor was arrested.”
Tony pressed his hair back with both hands.
“The League of Shadows did it: they planned to take Bruce for months and we
were going to catch them tonight yet…” he swallowed hard. “Damn!”
“If I wasn’t occupied with Joker’s minion…” Clark gritted his teeth.
Tony clenched his waist.
“You heard what Bruce had said: civilian lives were our priority. He asked you
to keep an eye on MCU; he wanted you to save innocent lives and you made it,
dude… Bruce is proud of you, I’m sure.”
And in pain!Clark thought exasperated.
“That boy…” Leslie sighed. “He used himself as a bait, right?” she was rasping.
Clark nodded and Leslie shook her head.
“I’m gonna spank that brat!” but her voice from the crescendo of anger fell to
the crack of worry.
“What was Alfred doing there?” Lucius asked.
Tony shrugged.
“A blow from Stane ruined the data stored in my armor so I had lost my contact
with Bruce and Selina by then but the League must have captured him to use as
leverage against Bruce.”
“Selina’s presence took them by surprise but Bruce urged her to get Alfred and
go…I could hear the proceedings…” Clark said throatily.
Lucius nodded and remained silent for a few seconds.
“And the blow in Tony’s armor explains how Joker managed to escape from his
cell - the blackout must have caused the fall of the codes though…” the clever
man narrowed his eyes “I know that you surely predicted such case and took your
measures to keep the cell firm.”
Tony scratched his hair and cleared his throat.
“Well, I had just reset the codes and the system was a bit unstable. I hastened
to change them because I was worried that Dent would have freed Joker
succumbing to his blackmail.”
Lucius’ eyes flashed.
“You want to tell me that the incident at Adams’ Bridge where Superman
intervened was Joker’s doing?”
“Exactly.”
Leslie shook her head.
“Shit!” she burst out. “All these had to happen simultaneously? To condemn
Bruce!” she closed her eyes. “This boy was born under a bad star…”
Clark turned his head to Tony; though Leslie’s remark had stabbed his aching
heart the hope that Stane maybe could give them information encouraged him.
“Where’s Stane now?”
“At the bottom of the ocean...what was left from him anyway” Tony told them in
shortness what had happened. “My hit definitely didn’t cause the ignition; my
guess is that this Tate killed him from afar: she punishes her ‘allies’: first,
Stane and now Luthor.”
Clark turned to Tony.
“And this Tate is indeed related to Al Ghul: she is his daughter, Talia.”
Tony pressed his lips and nodded.
“And she wants revenge on her father...Fuck! And she managed to get
Bruce...Shit! Shit! Shit!” he pressed his face inside his palms. “Selina is
probably trying to find him…”
Clark closed his eyes and shook his head disappointed.
“I roamed the entire United States for two hours and I couldn’t find even a
sign…”
Tony’s lips formed a faint affectionate smile.
“She has a knack in finding precious things.”
“These two are too connected” Leslie said fondly “like brother and sister.”
"Two orphan children cuddled together trying to survive alone in a hostile,
brutal world …” Clark pressed his lips remembering the tension, the despair and
the anger in Selina’s voice as she was forced to abandon Bruce to save Alfred.
“Where are you, Superman?! Bruce needs you!”her words still echoed in his ears
and he could imagine tears flowing from her emerald eyes.
“We must act” Clark snapped. “We can’t just sit and wait while they torture
Bruce!”
Leslie’s eyes flashed and Pepper’s widened in horror while Lucius watched
gloom. Tony shook his lowered head.
“It’s too soon to launch our attack; Bruce had formed in detail his plan B. He
even has taped a message to Fury saying to him that he sent the data to me.”
Clark approached Tony.
“I don’t want to attack while Bruce is in their hands! I don’t want to risk
Bruce paying the price!”
“I know!” Tony snapped. “But eventually will have to do this!”
“Not if we find him before the attack!” he raised his voice so much unlike him.
Tony nodded calm and locked eyes with him.
“That would be ideal…” he answered without breaking the eye contact.
Clark pressed his lips a bit calmer.
“How wasn’t Superman able to see them transferring Mr. Wayne?” Lucius asked.
“They must have used means of the highest technology to hide their presence.”
Tony nodded.
“I checked the feeding from satellites and there was nothing which along with
Superman’s inability to track them points me to Dr. Banner. Damn, Bruce! Did
you have to trust them with your technology?!”
Luthor rose from his chair and approached them.
“Then we contact him to give us the way to trace his prototype jet.”
Tony nodded.
“He doesn’t speak a lot but one of the rare times he did, he mentioned a jet
able not only to become transparent but also to be untraceable to the
satellites.”
“And obviously he had it lined with lead for blocking Superman.”
Clark was listening to them but he wasn’t there: he was with Bruce at their
greenhouse having caught the League and being relaxed and happy. And then he
saw again Bruce’s blood on the field and his heart shattered again: they’d
torture his Star while he needed care for his wounds… Selina was looking for
Bruce right now, alone, as she was taking care and supporting his Star all
these years - alone. But not anymore: Selina wasn’t alone anymore.
He rushed to the door causing the curious stares of the others.
“Where are you going?” Tony asked.
“To get answers and find Bruce!”
 
“This is insane!” Luthor said deadly calm keeping his smug look. “If I wanted
to kidnap Wayne I’d have invited him to my suite and brought him in from the
main entrance that was jammed with reporters? Are you taking me for a fool?”
Luthor was held at MCU bringing an entire crowd of reporters outside the
building shooting questions at everyone coming or leaving. They had seen
Luthor’s limousine bringing Bruce Wayne to the Grand Hotel and leaving the
building: video and pictures had flooded TV stations and the net. So when the
news spread that Gotham’s Prince disappeared and Luthor was arrested everyone
craved to know details: Luthor was really the culprit? Or some gang attacked
his car and kidnapped the youth? Did they find Bruce Wayne? Batman fought them
but failed to save Wayne? Joker’s escape had anything to do with all these?
Many officers formed a human fence to keep the reporters limited but everytime
they saw someone that could answer them, they pressed the officers like waves.
The raging press monster was the last thing the MCU needed as a parallel
investigation had begun concerning Joker’s escape and his recapture. Tony had
already informed Jim that the fail of the special cell was due to an attack he
faced but he didn’t mention anything concerning Harvey whose connection wasn’t
so difficult for the Commissioner to figure since the officers at the time in
the foyer witnessed him going to Joker and later chasing and threatening him
with a gun screaming that the jester had killed his father.
Jim just wanted to hit his head on the wall: on his way to the Palisades, he
was informed that Joker escaped; at Palisades, he was met with a battlefield:
they had found a decapitated body exactly as in Gambol’s restaurant and
arrested several ninja clad men with broken bones; he had seen Superman
distraught at the area where Bruce was taken realizing first that some of the
bloodrops belonged to the youth; the Man of Steel took off avoiding him causing
Jim the horrific certainty that it was the same gang that kidnapped the young
billionaire; then he learnt that Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce’s butler was injured
by those who attacked his master and was in Leslie’s clinic. And as the icing
of the cake, upon arriving at the MCU to interrogate Luthor in hopes of finding
Wayne, his officers informed him about everything concerning Dent and his
girlfriend.
Harvey had already met with Mayor Garcia and handed him his resignation taking
the full responsibility for what happened with Joker but Garcia asked him to
remain in his position and assist in the handling of the current crisis stating
his understanding for Harvey’s deeds and that this would be discussed by a
special committee when things calmed down.
Harvey’s feelings were mixed: he was relieved that even temporarily he could
continue help Gotham through this new tough phase but at the same time he had
hoped to be free to see his father in the hospital. He asked Rachel to stay
with his father - if of course she wanted or wasn’t too tired. He was still
numb from what Joker had told about her but honestly he didn’t have the time to
think it so he trusted his instict despite Rachel’s dumbfounded look.
“You still trust me after all these?”
“We’ll talk about everything later” he had answered. “I’ll ask from Jim to send
officers to protect both of you from Joker.” He had kissed her on the cheek.
“I’m happy you’re back but I must go to the MCU - all Hell broke loose
tonight!”
Rachel had frowned still staring at him in disbelief.
“Exactly because you’re not a fool, Mr. Luthor, you’ve organised all this
performance to claim innocence” Harvey clenching his waist said flatly piercing
him with his black eyes.
Luthor’s lawyer snapped.
“Mr. Dent, that’s a completely unbased science fiction scenario - you can’t
hold my client responsible because mobsters attacked his car and kidnapped Mr.
Wayne. Mr. Luthor’s driver was killed and his bodyguards unconscious!”
Luthor smirked but Jim came forward, his urgency visible even in his composed
demeanor.
“I’m afraid, councelor, that it’s not Mr. Dent’s scenario but your client’s:
his own actions prove it.”
Luthor frowned and his lawyer did the same but the former still scowled.
“Nonsense! Gotham’s authorities are preposterous!” he spat.
Gordon nodded to the one way mirror and immediately Renee Montoya burst inside
carrying a laptop which placed on the rectangular table.
“What’s that?” Luthor’s lawyer asked his eyebrows reaching his nose.
But Luthor’s eyes were focused on the screen were a video was ready to play;
all of a sudden, cold sweat ran his spine.
“A very informative video” Harvey smirked and pressed the enter key starting
the video.
Luthor’s suite filled the screen, the tycoon trapping Bruce Wayne in his chair
at the elegant dinner table. Though the video was shot from outside - Bruce’s
USB changed the ankle of the footage before projecting the scenes - zoomed on
Luthor’s face showing clearly his wild, angry eyes.
“That’s…” Luthor mumbled “impossible…”
Jim narrowed his eyes and Harvey turned his attention to the screen where
Luthor’s attack on Bruce unfolded in every detail from the billionaire’s poison
remarks to Mercy threatening him with her gun when he stood to leave, to Luthor
taunting Bruce with his own gun, kissing him by force and then slapping and
kicking him while on the floor. The video stopped when Luthor’s men entered the
room and he handed them Bruce.
Jim’s strict eyes stabbed Luthor’s pale face while his lawyer had stayed agape.
Harvey nodded.
“Your client, councelor, says clearly that he sent Bruce Wayne to his “master”
- thus, it’s clear beyond any doubt that he is collaborating with them. Mr.
Luthor assaulted Mr. Wayne, threatened him with a gun and taunted him that he’d
be allowed to get his turn on him.”
Luthor’s lawyer shook his head and looked at his client under Harvey’s
scrutinizing eyes and Jim’s silent treatment. Luthor just couldn’t believe it;
he was flabbergasted: his night was going from triumph to disaster.
“That doesn’t prove that my client collaborated with that gang; Mr. Luthor was
slightly intoxicated and his bitterness from that famous old incident with Mr.
Wayne came to the fore urging my client to taunt Mr. Wayne and frighten him
speaking about ‘masters’ but this doesn’t prove that he indeed had a connection
with the kidnapping. Mr. Luthor sent Mr. Wayne to Wayne Manor with his
limousine: if there was a plan to kidnap Mr. Wayne which Mr. Luthor was aware
of he wouldn’t have used his limousine.”
Harvey lolled his head on the side pressing his lips.
“You accused me of making science fiction stories but now you overdid it.
Anyway, there is more evidence proving your client’s collaboration with that
gang, actually a dangerous terrorist group.”
Luthor having crossed his arms watched with stony eyes and protruded jaw.
Jim took his turn.
“The weapons used at the mass killing in Gambol’s restaurant were ‘Taipan
.14’.”
Luthor’s eyes widened in shock.
“These weapons were registered at the Department of Defence and legitimate sold
to S.H.I.E.L.D. I don’t have any intelligence or responsibility for whatever
happened after!” he was enraged; that bitch framed him. She stole his weapons
from S.H.I.E.L.D. - how the hell she did it?! - and used them in a crime to
have the police after him.
Harvey yanked his head and looked him sternly.
“I’m afraid it’s not so simple, Mr. Luthor” he raised his eyebrows. “How can we
be sure that you didn’t use your advanced technology to keep track of the
weapons and then guided your partners to steal them claiming innosence?”
Luthor rolled his eyes.
“Far fetched, Mr. Dent” Luthor’s lawyer snapped.
Harvey smirked and Jim stilled his solemn eyes on Luthor.
“When Joker attacked Wayne Tower he used a hand canon weapon specified exactly
to breach the impenetratable windows of Mr. Wayne’s office.”
“So?” Luthor shrugged though a new wave of cold sweat covered his body
realizing what gun Gordon meant.
Jim raised his eyebrows.
“The gun was manufactured in your laboratories, Mr. Luthor and was brought in
Gotham guarded by local thugs who were murdered by Joker when he stole the
weapon.”
Luthor nodded.
“There was a burglary in LEXCORP’s labs: they took several items and that
weapon.”
Harvey placed a paper in front of Luthor.
“That you reported only after the attack on the Wayne Tower without mentioning
the exact type of the weapon.”
“My employees were late to inform about the burglary and I couldn’t give
details on the weapon because it was a secret project.”
Harvey shook his head pointedly.
“Of course: secrecy is nesecary when you plan to attack Wayne Tower and abduct
its owner.”
Luthor laughed.
“You don’t listen, Mr. Dent: the weapon was stolen by Gotham’s thugs…”
Jim stood up and threw on the table a couple of bills in transparent cases.
“The thugs were carrying money that was withdrawn from a shady Metropolitan
bank account financed by one of your offshores; they were working for you.”
Luthor’s face remained expressionless though inside he was frowning.
“What offshore?” he asked snorting. “I’m a law abiding citizen from the few
billionaires who pay their taxes.”
Harvey put a paper on the table and Luthor’s eyes widened: how did they find
that company?
“I gather you recognize this company?”
Luthor’s lawyer looked at the paper too, his eyes fleeting to his boss.
“That company is proved to have many transactions with terrorist groups
especially one called ‘The League of Shadows’.” The DA said grimly.
Luthor shook his head and Harvey leaned on the table towards him.
“All these along with the video of your assault on Mr. Wayne and your admission
that you’re sending him to the people that kidnapped him will be more than
enough to persuade any jury and judge for your guilt and ensure your
imprisonment for many decades.”
The lawyer communicated with Luthor with his eyes.
“I suggest a deal” he said and Jim hardly covered his anger.
But Harvey yanked his head clenching his waist.
“You’re not in a position to bargain, counselor: your client is deep in
trouble. How long did you plan your revenge on Mr. Wayne because he refused
your advances?”
Luthor shook his head, his eyes shining enraged: he was framed, trapped both by
that evil bitch and Batman because he was sure that all these evidence was the
vigilante’s work. Damn Gotham!
“I was misled by them” he chose to change his stance; he waved his hand. “They
used my grudge on the boy to make me contribute to their plans: I thought they
wanted just to scare Wayne. They’re not a common gang: it’s the League of
Shadows and I can give them to you: I know where their headquarters in Gotham
are.”
He yanked his head, stilling his eyes on Harvey.
“I can help you catch them and find Wayne...In exchange to leniency. I have
info about their action.”
Harvey nodded and exchanged glances with Jim who nodded moving his eyebrows.
“Pray we find Bruce…” Harvey pointed his index finger at Luthor.
 
Tony had gone to the Wayne Tower along with Lucius having persuaded Pepper to
get some rest: Alfred was still sleeping and Leslie urged them to go and find
Bruce while she’d take care of the butler; she promised Tony that will call him
as soon as Alfred woke.
Hours still separated them from dawn. Tony immediately went to his lab
scrutinizing again the League’s database that Bruce deciphered while repairing
his armor with new upgrades and enhancements. In the meantime, Bruce Banner
began sending him the info he asked about his super-stealth jet.
People said that work is good because you get absorbed and forget things but he
still found himself stopping and closing his eyes, slapping his face and
swallowing hard: the implant didn’t transmit any signal which made him think
that the blood they found was from a wound in that spot - which was bad news.
He punched the working bench: Bruce was again in their clutches, wounded and
exposed to their revenge.
They couldn’t launch their attack right away not only because Bruce had planned
the exact moment his messages would reach Fury but also because he wanted first
to find and secure Bruce. But the failure of the implant left him hanging; not
that he lost his hopes: Dr.Banner’s data would help him trace the jet’s course
and thus limiting the area of searching. And then there was Superman, the
fastest man on earth with one hundred kinds of vision to scan everything and of
course himself who would search in every tiny satellite for any traces of his
friend.
He could implicate the Avengers because that move would be totally expected
since they supposedly didn’t know anything about S.H.I.E.L.D. being the League
of Shadows yet he hesitated to do it right away.
Having all of Dr. Banner’s data he was able to cross the feedings of different
satellites along with his own satellite that was focused on Gotham to trace
their course; his eyes flashed and he bit his lower lip magnifying the location
and scribbling the coordinates.
He jolted up and made to activate his armor only to remember that it was still
repairing. So he called Superman who was on the run and gave him the location
asking him to inform him if he found anything and wait for him– he estimated
that his armor wouldn’t get long to be fixed.
He ended the call and stood up to work on his armor; new hope fuelling him with
energy. But his StarkStell rang and he knew it was Steve before answering -
thankfully, from his civilian number: they kept Batman’s warnings for
precautions.
“We heard they took your friend” Captain said and Tony huffed.
“Are your S.H.I.E.L.D. beepers close to you?” he had to be sure.
“Of course not; we’re in a safe place.We use call deflection.”
“We?”
“Dr. Banner called and told us that he is already in line with you. But Natasha
and Thor are here with me: we want to help, Tony.”
Tony stroke his goatee deep in thought.
“Better we keep you out of this for the time being.”
“But they know we’re your teammates and it won’t be weird if you call us to
help...What is it, Natasha?”
Tony could see in his phone’s huge screen the Black Widow with a grim
expression coming to Steve.
“Fury beeped us that the ‘bosses’ called in an urgent mission in Siberia” she
cocked her eyebrow. “They’re unbelievable!”
“Of course they are!” Tony snapped. “They use our technology against us without
any pretense, thinking us completely morons! You have to go and do what they
ordered Fury to not raise any suspicions. I won’t come.”
“You weren’t there when it happened?” Thor’s deep voice asked, the blond god
walking inside the frame.
Tony shook his head his expression gloom.
“Stane had taken Pepper in Malibu and threatened to kill her if I haven’t gone
there myself. He is dead.”
“You killed him?” Thor asked.
“No, his ally did. Now go before they suspect.”
“You’ll manage?” Steve asked concerned.
Tony smiled.
“I got Superman on the job...Now, go Avengers: will kick their asses on the
right moment!”
“I can’t wait!” Thor growled.
Tony smiled fondly and ordered his phone to end the call. But the gadget rang
again and Tony lolled his head frustrated rolling his eyes because he
recognized Fury’s personal melody.
“Answer” he ordered and Fury’s sullen face greeted him.
“You and Wayne are playing with me!”
Tony twisted his mouth.
“Fury, I’d have liked to enjoy your fantasies but I have work to do and my mind
is totally absorbed in finding Bruce.”
Fury’s good eye flashed.
“Why the League wanted to capture Bruce if he isn’t the child Ra’s Al Ghul
trained? If he isn’t Batman?”
Tony rubbed his temple.
“Are you at least calling from a safe location?”
Fury huffed exasperated and his face tensed more.
“Of course.”
“First of all, I can’t know what they have in their sick minds BUT we all know
that they have a high interest in Gotham and Bruce is Gotham’s Prince so
obviously they want to use him. Second, when I was trying to find out if
Falcone’s toy was indeed Bruce, Falcone tried to persuade me create a weapon of
mass destruction - and we know that Falcone worked for the League. After
Falcone, you recruited me in S.H.I.E.L.D. and they attempted to have me create
things for them - and we know who S.H.I.E.L.D. is; so I’m afraid that they will
use Bruce to blackmail me to make goodies for them. As for Batman, police said
that they found batarangs at the battlefield and that he tried to save Bruce:
but if you don’t believe them and prefer living in your hallucination, be my
guest. I don’t have time to lose: my friend is held by the most dangerous group
in the whole fucking planet!”
Fury nodded with his lips pursed and his eye narrowed.
“You’re right; our priority is to take your friend from them: whoever he truly
is…” he raised his eyebrow. “Do we still wait for...Batman’s data and okay to
act?” he asked slyly.
“Why?” Tony frowned. “Has anything changed?”
Fury smirked and snorted.
“What do you think?” the director snapped.
“That I have to find Bruce before your ‘friend’ fully occupies me with his
plans.”
Fury’s teeth flashed in a wry smile before ending the call and Tony sighed
pressing his hair back to his skull.
“Where are you, buddy?”
 
Luthor sat at the same chair in the interrogation room and stared at the wall
fuming and glaring; he should have known. Police found nothing in the Manor at
the Palisades where he always met with Al Ghul’s daughter: of course, she
erased everything about her presence there the moment she planned to hand him
to the police.
Gordon and Dent informed him that his information was useless but he gave them
more information about the League’s connections and operations from Ra’s Al
Ghul’s era. He was worried that this time he was deep in shit and wouldn’t be
so simple to slip his way out of this shithole called Gotham. He cursed a
thousand times and once again the moment he decided to participate in this
bitch’s plans; he shouldn’t have trusted someone as arrogant as her. He would
have found another way to punish Stark and Wayne.
Actually, their suffering was the only satisfaction he had: he wished he could
see Stark’s smug look screwed up with agony realizing what awaited his friend;
smirked imagining what that evil woman will be doing to Bruce. But the best was
thinking of Superman in despair…If only that bitch and Batman hadn’t set him up
now he would have been enjoying the spectacle while drinking champagne. He
grunted.
All of a sudden, the wall to his cell gave a growling sound and collapsed
Luthor ducking to protect himself from the debris only to be yanked by his
collar and pressed to the opposite wall by a wave of force.
As soon as Luthor overcame his surprise he found Superman’s crystal blue eyes
drawing daggers at him, his steel jaw clenched so hard that if he was someone
else his bones would have shattered. Luthor felt his feet dangling to the void
and Superman’s grip on his collar tightening more shaking him with the anger
that fuelled the hero’s body.
However, Luthor kept his smug look and laughed.
“You decided to finally abandon the boyscout façade?” he snorted.
Superman’s face was distorted from wrath but the billionaire knew that it was
more from despair and pain; the Man of Steel was in unbelievable suffering to
demolish the wall of a prison to attack a detainee. It was a delight to see
him.
Superman had no trouble reading Luthor’s satisfaction and his hands clenched
more the fabric shaking violently the human not on purpose but only from the
inner tremble his ire brought.
“WHERE IS HE?!” he yelled and the wall Luthor was pressed cracked only by the
sound waves of that voice.
But Luthor just stared at him completely calm and smirked.
“You mean your whore?” he asked amused and Superman’s eyes became red.
“Watch your dirty mouth!” Superman growled very much like Batman and raised his
fist. “You’re unworthy to speak about Bruce!”
Luthor sniggered.
“Don’t tell me he acted the virgin to you…” he hissed, his icy gray eyes
sparkling with glee. “He fooled you, old chum: that boy’s gorgeous asshole goes
deeper than the Grand Canyon…”
Red beams burst from Superman’s eyes; he had watched the video from Luthor’s
suite: the way that scum threatened his Star with his gun, the way he violated
him, the way he hit him; the bleeding L on Bruce’s cheek. He could smell
Bruce’s rare, enchanting cinnamon – orange aroma on Luthor’s abusing lips.
“Superman, don’t!” Jim Gordon who reached first at the scene yelled out of
breath.
Superman had come to the MCU asking from the Commissioner and the DA to see the
footage from Luthor’s suite; the Man of Steel from the start looked upset and
frustrated and as if he had exhausted himself physically – which was impossible
– and emotionally but when the video ended the hero exploded rushing out of the
office. Both Jim and Harvey had noticed how Superman’s breath became uneven and
then a rasp so they followed him where they knew he would go.
“He’s a detainee” Harvey added with a dose of understanding: he was ready to
kill Joker a couple of hours ago thinking that he was responsible for his
father’s death – he could sympathize with the hero.
The beams subsided but otherwise Superman didn’t show any sign of having taken
in their arrival and then the arrival of several officers who had heard the
wall collapsing and then saw Gordon and Dent running frantic.
Luthor’s eyes filled with malice pierced Superman’s.
“Like a puppy in love!” he chuckled. “At least, did you bang him or your dick
is still hungry?”
Superman’s heart beat vibrating his whole body and drumming in his skull; his
temperature had surpassed its usual levels and he felt like exploding.
“You violated and hit him” Superman’s blue eyes took again the red color. “You
made him bleed! You bastard!”
Luthor rolled his eyes.
“I’m not the first and I inform you that I won’t be the last one too…” his
poisonous words were interrupted by a surprised yell when Superman shook him
violently, his head colliding with the wall. “I’ll sue you, you freakin’
alien!”
But Superman shook him more causing the widening of the witnesses’ eyes.
“Where they’ve taken him?!” his voice was louder than a thunder and Luthor
squinted.
Yet the arrogant billionaire opened his eyes and laughed at Superman’s face.
“I told them the only hideout I knew and they didn’t find anything” he twisted
his upper lip. “But even if I knew another I wouldn’t have told because your
agony, your despair, your helplessness, your searing pain are delightful…” he
hissed with glee. “Knowing that your bitch at this very moment is tortured and
fucked by those scums and you are unable to save him…Can you hear his screams
for help, how strangers’ dicks drilling him, his howls of pain? You must feel
really useless” he arched his eyebrows “what you truly are: an overadvertized,
overstuffed useless alien. I don’t mind getting in jail knowing that you’ll be
tormented by your slut’s fate… You won’t ever find him and if you do he’ll be
ripped in pieces…”
Superman was listening dead calm; his enraged tremble had stopped as his rasps
to the point that the Man of Steel was operating without breathing. And then
his eyes became black which he had never experienced again but he wasn’t in a
state to be aware of that. A horrific yell came out of his mouth and his fist
rose to the air rushing to smash Luthor’s skull.
Something held his wrist and although he could easily overcome the resistance
Superman felt the wrath subsiding and he stopped himself. The crystal blue
slowly replaced the black color that had settled in his irises and the Man of
Steel could again see his surroundings.
Ironman minus his faceplate was still gripping his wrist, his fervent black
eyes still and determined was locked with Superman’s.
“He isn’t worth it…” Tony said to Superman as soon as he understood that the
hero had regained his contact with the world. “Bruce wouldn’t want that for
you.”
Superman turned his still enraged eyes to Luthor, then to Tony and finally let
go of Luthor who slumped on the floor since his legs were shaking despite the
smug look and the glee in his eyes. He cast a last disgusted glare to Luthor
and marched out of the room the officers following him numbed.
Luthor sniggered, slowly gathered his legs and stood; Superman’s departure
reestablishing fast his nerve.
Tony was glaring at him with his head lolled at the side and Luthor decided to
turn his taunt to him.
“You know, Stark, I don’t think that your little buddy is in position to want
anything or have a saying - you see, his new master will surely put him in his
right place: tied in a bed with his legs wide open screwed by hoards of horny
studs!”
Tony just shook slightly his head and completely tranquil raised his iron fist
and punched Luthor in the face sending him to crash on the wall and then
collapse on the floor.
Luthor rubbed his bleeding mouth and his glowing manic eyes pierced Tony who
regarded him completely unfazed.
“This is harassment!” the Metropolis’ tycoon shouted through gritted teeth.
Tony shrugged snorting.
“I’m not a cop; sue me!” he spat Luthor in the face and walked out of the room.
Luthor looked at Gordon and Dent. Jim had his arms crossed.
“I didn’t see anything” he said fixing his glasses on his nose. “My glasses
need changing.”
Harvey clenched his waist and shook his head.
“I was estimating the damage on the wall…”
 
Harvey found Rachel sleeping slumped on his father’s hospital bed; she had the
fluffy Eeyore underneath her and a faint smile brushed his face. He approached
as silently as he could but Rachel opened her eyes acknowledging him. Harvey
brushed her shoulder and patted his father’s hand; the man was fast asleep worn
out from his new adventure.
He gestured to Rachel to follow him outside and pecked his father’s forehead.
The part of the corridor outside the room was thankfully empty though the
officers guarding his father were just a few feet away.
“Doctor said that your father has nothing serious and tomorrow he can return to
his house” Rachel said the toy still in her hand.
Harvey nodded.
“I asked him before I came to the room. He remembered you from the last time
and he thought you’re a member of the family.”
Rachel sat on a chair, Harvey following her. She stilled her eyes to his face.
“Which is not true” she snapped.
“What?”
“I’m not a member of your family” Rachel continued aggressively. “You shouldn’t
trust me so much” she stabbed him with her sparkling eyes. “What Joker said is
true: I was his accomplice for years.”
She hesitated to speak about the rest Joker had said yet Harvey pressed.
“And you approached me because he ordered you?”
Rachel gave a wry smile.
“Joker couldn’t order me to do anything; I also wanted to play and have
fun...with you.”
Harvey pressed his lips and nodded huffing.
“And you told him about my father?”
Rachel shook his head.
“No, but he is clever enough to figure.”
Harvey scratched his head.
“So you’re the informant Bruce mentioned.”
She nodded and he laughed bitterly.
“He said that you saved him from Joker; you must have gotten too fond of him
the few times you met him…” jealousy vibrated slightly his voice. “To risk your
life for his sake…”
Rachel understood the hint: are you in love with Bruce? She didn’t want Harvey
blame Bruce for their failed relationship.
“Bruce is a childhood friend” Harvey’s eyes widened in surprise. “I was born in
Gotham and I met Bruce in Dr. Thompkins’ free clinic” she smiled fondly on the
memory and Harvey’s expression became grim. “Bruce was very easy in making
friends among the less fortunate - in that aspect, I guess we were ‘more
fortunate’...” she chuckled. "His father operated me when I was diagnosed with
brain tumor and his family covered the expenses and granded me a fund. We
played together; he was my best friend. His alleged death broke me…” she looked
to the opposite wall to hide her emotions. “I used to go every day to his grave
and beg him to come back” she grinned. “But then my parents got divorced and my
mother took me to Boston.”
Harvey forgot his jealousy and touched the stuffed toy.
“Eeyore is his, right?”
Rachel cast her eyes on the cute donkey and smiled.
“He gave the toy to me some days before Falcone took him: I was devastated
because my parents were getting divorce and he gave me his favorite toy to
assure me that he will always be with me…”
Harvey shook his head.
“But he didn’t recognize you; or did he?”
“You blame him?” Rachel asked raising an eyebrow. “Eighteen years passed during
which he was tortured relentlessly: however I think he sensed something
familiar in me and then when I helped him, he remembered me. Eeyore affirmed
his suspicions.”
“Joker knew about you and Bruce?”
“No otherwise he’d have exploited it as he did with your father. Do you have
any news about Bruce? Who took him?”
Harvey looked at his hand.
“We search but there is no trace left behind except than some fanatics who
don’t say a word. Luthor was their accomplice and sent Bruce to them but even
he doesn’t know where they’ve taken him. Bruce’s friends are frantically
looking too” he shook his head.
Rachel pressed her hands together.
“I can imagine their agony; they must be desperate: after being sure that the
nightmare had ended and that Bruce was safe among them, someone kidnaps him…”
she shook her head. “How’s Alfred; he must be heartbroken…”
The media didn’t know that Alfred was at the scene as well so nobody knew that
he got injured.
“Actually, he is at Dr. Thompkins’ clinic; those bastards tried to kidnap him
as well but a black clad woman saved and took him to the clinic. His life isn’t
in danger but Leslie has sedated him; I’ll take his testimony as soon as he
wakes up.”
Rachel instantly remembered that night she took Bruce from Joker, the young
woman who was ready to attack her to save Bruce; she seemed to love Bruce so
much. Rachel couldn’t believe that that girl would abandon Bruce even to save
Alfred, despite Batman was there too according to the reporters.
“That’s horrible…” she whispered.
Harvey took her hands in his and pressed his lips in a tight smile.
“I’m glad you talked to me openly.”
She chuckled.
“There wasn’t much left to reveal, don’t you think?”
Harvey locked eyes with her and Rachel felt uncomfortable.
“For me there is...You asked Bruce to warn me about Joker, you stopped me
before I did something awful...You returned for me.”
She tensed.
“I was in Boston ready to surrender and testify against him but then I realized
that he surely plans something against you and Bruce; and I had to come back
to…” she rolled her eyes “I don’t know what.”
Harvey’s eyebrows jolted.
“Bruce told me that his informant would testify against Joker: we should put
you immediately under protection.”
“Or arrest me.
“You came willingly.”
“Only because Bruce talked to me as if I was still his old firend and you…” she
swallowed.
“I did what?”
Rachel looked deeply in his eyes.
“You loved me and opened yourself completely to me without knowing anything
about me.”
Harvey cupped her face and kissed gently her lips.
“You know I love you.”
She jerked her head.
“Is not that simple: I was Joker’s accomplice for years: I witnessed him
killing people and I did nothing to stop him - I even enjoyed it; I knew he
took Jack Napier’s place keeping him prisoner for years and helped him with his
fraud. I even agreed with him to play with you and your feelings.”
“But you regret it! You saved Bruce; you warned us about Joker’s plans; you
will testify against him.” He pierced her with his intense stare. “I don’t find
a reason why we should not be together except if you don’t… share my feelings.”
Rachel wished she could blatantly answer with a cruel affirmation that she
didn’t have feelings for Harvey.
“I lied to you, Harvey; I fooled you. You should be mad at me.”
Harvey yanked his head.
“But I’m not; I know about life mistakes. I have done several, the most
serious: throwing my father and mother out of my life. I’d never have reunited
with him if someone hadn’t given me the chance.”
“Who?”
“Batman and Bruce: the first saving my father from Falcone’s thugs and the
second by vouching for him and giving him a great position in his Enterprises.”
Rachel frowned.
“You deserve that chance too, Rachel. I know you, Bruce knows you and we’ll be
here for you even if…” he thought about the incident with Joker and his pending
resignation. “Promise me you won’t run away from me again: I’m not perfect
either so we’ll make the perfect couple.”
Rachel captured his lips: she missed his lips all these days. Harvey deepened
the kiss holding the back of her head.
“And we’ll have the best best man in the world: Bruce” he said caressing her
cheek.
Rachel sighed, remembering that her friend was missing.
“We’ll find him, babe” Harvey reassured her rubbing soothingly her back.
 
Clark sat on the bed inside Bruce’s bedroom; he had his eyes closed and was
sucking Bruce’s scent that filled the place giving him the illusion that at any
moment his Star would come and hug him. But as much as he waited Bruce didn’t
come.
He looked outside the huge window he had smashed the day he attacked Bruce: the
horizon just began fading in the light blue of the dawn. Fuck! This night was
endless! Not like the nights he spent with Bruce that were so small…
His eyes fell on the frame on the nightstand: a simple wooden frame with a
painting. Clark took it in his hands and brought it closer, his eyes watering.
So this was Hero!
Selina’s drawing was amazing! It must have broken his Star’s heart along with
the joy it gave him… The kitten seemed alive and Clark felt the urge to caress
him. As the boy who held the kitten on his chest: Bruce shouldn’t have been
more than 12 years old, a beautiful angel. Selina painted her friend’s face
without the bruises and the swellings that surely marred him constantly due to
his tormentors’ brutal abuse; she pictured his amazing eyes perfectly,
sparkling with happiness and affection as Bruce’s cheek touched the kitten’s
head.
It was the perfect kitten for a little angel: really the cutest, sweetest
animal, the horrible void where his second eye had been only highlighting the
animal’s beauty in his braveness to fight with his life’s atrocities. Bruce and
Hero were so much alike.
“His little heart must have shattered when that bastard killed the poor thing…”
Clark jerked his head surprised hearing his thought aloud by Stark’s low voice.
The billionaire walked closer and Clark nodded.
“I knew I’d find you here” Tony said and arched his eyebrows. “You know, Bruce
is still alive.”
“I know” he answered without letting the frame. “I can’t hear his heartbeat and
his breath but I know he is alive.”
Tony took a deep breath of relief because a small doubt was eating his insides.
“Then stop acting like he’s dead, for fuck’s sake! We’ll find him and punish
those motherfuckers; just don’t be like that – you aren’t helping him.”
Clark cast another affectionate glance to the painting memorizing the kitten
and the boy, and put it back in its place where Bruce wanted it. He turned to
Tony who was absorbed in the painting.
“I couldn’t find him, Stark.”
Tony rolled his eyes and pressed his lips.
“Call me Tony: we’ll return to the good ol’ grudge when Bruce gets back…”
Clark smiled.
“Thank you for stopping me in Luthor’s cell…”
Tony arched his eyebrows.
“When you reported that you couldn’t find anything, I was sure you’ll go to
Luthor to make him speak…But he gave already everything he got on the League to
save his ass and take his revenge for being backstabbed yet it didn’t help” he
shrugged. “It was easy to guess that he’ll enjoy your suffering and jeer you
into losing your temper…And Bruce wouldn’t want you to become a killer for that
worm…”
Clark nodded thoughtful and his gaze wandered to the horizon where the morning
star mocked him for letting them snatch his Star from his arms.
“I couldn’t find him, Tony: I roamed the States for two hours and then again
and then I went to the location you mentioned but there was nothing; no trace
of Bruce or of that jet.’’
Tony shook his head.
“They must have returned it to some of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s bases” he crossed his
arms “they’re not aware that we know they used that jet and continue playing
with us. I’ll locate it now we know where their bases are.”
Clark shook his head.
“Bruce gave us everything to assure our victory but I want first to find him”
Tony purged his lips and nodded. “But there was nothing! I searched, I scanned
with every way I have the wider area but I couldn’t find him!”
“They must have him in a place with lead” Tony answered.
“Is there a base at the area in the data Bruce deciphered?”
Tony pressed his lips and shook his head in denial.
“But this doesn’t mean that they didn’t transfer him in another area after they
left the jet.”
Clark stood huffing.
“You must saw something in the satellites’ feeding!” he snapped.
Tony blinked.
“I’m afraid no: there was nothing in the feeding” he arched his eyebrows “you
see, satellites change position and you must be very lucky to get feeding of a
location at the exact time…” he sighed. “Not to mention that they might have
used vehicles that are stealth to satellites or radiation that blinds
satellites.”
Clark pressed his hair on his head.
“All in all, we’re at zero!”
Tony closed his eyes.
“If we attack…”
Clark raised his bulged eyes on him.
“You want to attack while Bruce is their captive?!” he shouted.
Tony shook his head twisting his lips.
“Of course not but Bruce will proceed to his plan B whether we like it or not”
he nodded to Clark’s frown. “Batman will contact Fury when the time for the
attack comes and they will come to me because supposedly Batman will send the
data to me. Bruce prepared the video-message for Fury and programmed his
computer to send it; that way he wanted to chase away Fury’s suspicions for
Bruce being Batman and bypass our hesitation to act against the League. And we
must protect Gotham from Joker.”
Clark knew that but how could he think of anything else while his heart was
ripped from his chest and held prisoner by cruel people.
“Can’t we change Bruce’s programming?” Clark asked hopefully but Tony tilted
his head to the side, arching his brows and twisting his lips as if saying: are
you kidding me?
Tony walked to the nightstand and touched the framed painting.
“I’m thinking that maybe plan B was actually Bruce’s plan A; he wanted to feed
her arrogance and certainty to lower her vigilance and make our job easier…”
Clark rushed to him upset.
“No! Bruce didn’t want to fall into their hands…he didn’t want to cast himself
to such danger…to risk his life!”
Tony raised his eyes to him.
“Unfortunately, Bruce disregards his life when other people’s lives are at
stake. He thinks that his life doesn’t worth as much as other people’s lives…”
Clark shook his head clenching his jaw: he had seen in his Star’s eyes that he
understood how desperate Clark loved him; that his life depended on Bruce’s
existence.
“That’s not true! I…we showed him how much we love him…how precious he is to
us!”
Tony lowered his eyes.
“It’s too difficult to change something that was engraved to the tender, soft
soul of a child…”
 
Clark was holding one handed his wrists together above his head and his wet
full lips savored his stretched neck burning him; though still dressed in his
half unbuttoned silken shirt and black pants he could feel Clark’s hot body on
him, convulsing from arousal and sending shivers to his own spine. He kept his
eyes closed enjoying the ministrations of Clark’s mouth and tongue on the crook
of his neck while a powerful hand slithered inside his pants feeling greedily
his buttocks. He smiled; he didn’t need to open his eyes to know that the
crystal blue orbs were watching him with endless affection to make sure that he
was alright.
But then the pressing on his wrists became stronger: Clark was so aroused that
lost control of his power. He tried to move his hands because only a slight
movement would pass the message to the Man of Steel and he’d loosen his grip.
He couldn’t move his hands, even his fingers…
He didn’t panic: he’ll open his eyes and Clark will understand immediately.
He opened his eyes and what he saw freezed the blood in his veins: above his
head, over the headboard was that horrible painting with himself lying naked on
black silk. Something wasn’t right: his heart kicked in his ribs as when he was
a weak kid; he could see his wrists crushed together with leather and bound on
the headboard.
And then he could feel his legs bent in the knees, his ankles tightly bound to
the bed to left him wide open…His body began shaking uncontrollably, the warmth
of Clark’s body’s safety giving its place to cold realization…Clark hadn’t
come: Clark surely was saving some innocent lives and didn’t manage to make it…
The soft, caring lips of Clark weren’t the salivating pieces of greasy meat
that bruised his neck and abused his lips: he knew that wet, foul breath that
stank of alcohol and smoke. He knew that aura that carried his parents’ blood.
His eyes bulged as Falcone’s chubby face filled his field of vision, his
triumphant smile shattering his frantic heart.
Acid smell attacked his nostrils and sent electric currents to his mind erasing
abruptly Falcone’s face.
“Time to wake up, whore!”
 
***** Chapter 65 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
His return to the conscious world was like a collision with a wall and Bane’s
sneering and loathsome voice was just the beginning. He was suspended from the
ceiling, his entire weight hanging from his tightly bound together wrists that
was numb from the blood circulation’s stoppage and torn from the bone-crushing
knot. But this pain was actually nothing compared to the two throbbing spots
one in his nape and the other to the center of his waist; he could understand
that the bullets were inside him, stuck in his spine. That explained his total
paralysis bellow the neck and why he couldn’t use his mind’s power to manage
some control.
Bruce knew about bullets: he had lived 6 years facing the consequences of
bullet wounds, immobilizing his right arm and causing him horrific pain. So
besides the initial wave of panic that emerged from the boy still inside him
and he was able to control, he also understood that these bullets weren’t
common as the person who shot him - Talia Al Ghul - otherwise he’d have been
dead or in irreversible coma.
He felt the wetness over his shirt but the amount of blood from the wounds
wasn’t the expected – a token of the shooter’s skill.
A powerful hand fisted his hair and yanked violently his head that was lolled
to the chest.
Bruce opened calmly his eyes knowing already that he’ll see Bane’s covered in
black silk face, his dark eyes surely glimmering with fierce satisfaction and
infinite hatred.
“You try to postpone your punishment with cheap tricks?!” his former trainer
hissed bringing Bruce’s face close to his.
Bruce’s eyes sparkled with defiance though the fever he was running enhanced
the result.
“Hardly. It was your boss that shot me and the time of my awakening was your
choice.”
Bane’s massive hand fell on Bruce’s face sending his head to the other side,
some blood spurting from his broken lip.
Bruce could see that the room was spacious enough but bare and dark with a damp
smell as in basements so he guessed that he was held underground. There were
people clad in ninja attires watching impassively the proceedings.
Bane walked behind him as Bruce raised his head that throbbed from a full scale
migraine that was already there but worsended from Bane’s punch.
“Your audacity surpasses every limit” Bane said. “Ra’s Al Ghul spoiled you into
thinking that you were allowed to do anything without consequences.”
“I don’t think that anything Ra’s did to me can be classified as ‘spoiling’.”
And then Bruce heard and knew exactly what it was; a hissing, bloodcurdling
sound of thick, heavy leather rope ripping the air. He hardly managed to clench
his jaw before the whip smashed his back, tearing his shirt and blending shreds
of silk with rugged flesh as blood spurted around and Bruce’s skull was pierced
by white, hot pain as if a hot iron spear had impaled him.
Bruce was glad that at least could control the muscles of his head or else his
scream would have cracked the walls; he couldn’t move his arms even to clench
his fingers to control the waves of pain from his ripped back that fuelled the
drums in his skull. He managed to even his breath, though his eyes were still
shut and sweatdrops showed up on his forehead while his body trembled from the
shock of the pain.
“Ra’s had a soft spot for his whore and that stopped him from chasten you as an
insolent whore should be chastened: with whips and chains. That would have
taught you what you truly are and kept him alive.”
“Your humanistic beliefs definitely show the difference between a warrior of
justice and a ruthless vilain…” Bruce answered defiant and calm which made
Bane’s hand tighten on the whip’s handle.
Bruce knew he’d react like this and braced himself for the second blasting hit.
The fact he hadn’t any control over his body didn’t allow him prepare his
muscles to take the blow so the pain was as crushing as every time Falcone was
whipping him when still a kid: some times during flashbacks his body re-lived
the pains from then so it was easy to make the comparison.
“The whip would have taught you how to speak to your masters, you worthless
whore!”
“Masters? You’re one of them, then?” he mastered his breath into uttering the
words nonchalant and sarcastic.
Bruce closed his eyes, willing his migraine to calm down to permit him to
withhold the gravest of the current pains; he swallowed hard the whines that
wanted to escape his mouth. Having control of his hands would have made it a
bit more possible to handle the pain that now he didn’t know how much more he
could bear without screaming in front of his jeering enemy.
The third blow was stronger than the first two slicing Bruce’s back at the
kidneys’ level. His breath was caught in his lungs and his heart began racing
completely unbalanced and he had to fight all of his pains simultaneously to
focus on his heart trying to calm the pace; which was impossible since the
bullet in his nape blocked his mind’s power over his body.
Bane sniggered watching Bruce’s body bleed and convulse from the excruciating
pain; he fisted the younger man’s sweaty hair and yanked his head backwards,
bringing their eyes close.
“Seven months were enough for you to forget who you really are into believing
you’re a Prince”he said sneering “but I shall remind it to you and mortify you
in the only way you’re able to appreciate!”
Bruce could hear Bane’s teeth grinding promising nightmarish tortures but he
didn’t lower his eyes even though his body screamed shamelessly begging for the
pain to stop as little Bruce did under Falcone’s belt. But now he was an adult,
he was Batman. And little Bruce’s despair and pleading became fierce defiance
challenging his enemy with Batman’s glare and the intense glow of Bruce Wayne’s
powerful eyes.
Bane felt something he didn’t like and spat on the floor letting Bruce’s head
and raising the whip to give a stronger hit: he wouldn’t let that whore defeat
him.
Bruce sure that hours of whipping were awaiting him forced the migraine to a
small cell in the back of his existence and prepared his mind since he couldn’t
prepare his flesh. The creepy hissing of the leather that always shattered his
heart before his flesh when he was a kid now just couldn’t breach the walls of
his mind’s defences.
But the pain didn’t come and the hissing stopped abruptly; Bane frowned when a
delicate hand clenched his wrist with enough power to break bones.
His flared up eyes met his two beloved black agates sparkling in the semi
darkness of the room determined and deadly calm: he hadn’t heard her coming
absorbed in his thirst for blood. Talia tightened her grip till the whip fell
from his hand on the floor.
She arched her eyebrow.
“I didn’t order that” her emotionless, cold voice pierced the room’s silence
and her eyes pointed to the three deep bleeding gashes on Bruce’s back.
Bruce couldn’t see her but could feel the powerful vibrations of her body and
will; as he was feeling Ra’s power from the first time the lion-like man
claimed him healing his hand and tucking him in his expensive coat.
Bane saw with the edge of his eyes his men bowing their heads to their Mistress
and he did the same, sweat washing his body as he was embarrassed before them
and Wayne.
“I thought that it would help with your plans” he answered proud wanting to
cover personal motives with ‘professional’ ones; as if Talia didn’t know.
Talia’s face was expressionless like ice though her eyes locked with Bane’s
carried disapprovement and disappointment that pierced her warrior’s heart.
“Barely” she spat strictly.
Her eyebrow slightly arched and Bane understood that his Mistress dismissed
him; she was unhappy with him to use that cold way to order him. He bowed with
respect and left glaring at Wayne’s back that bled through the torn silk.
Talia stared fascinated the deep wounds on Bruce’s back: the silk had been torn
and the blood had formed a huge smudge that rapidly spread.
“He ruined a fine, expensive shirt” she said unhappier about the damage in
Bruce’s beautiful back.
“You did it first…” Bruce answered.
Talia smiled and caressed gently with her index finger the gash running Bruce’s
waist making him clench his jaw to not gasp from the pain.
“Your blood is too valuable to shed” she rubbed the blood covering her finger
with her thumb.
“As of every human being” it was difficult speaking while migraine shook his
head, two strange bullets were stuck in his body and three lengthy deep gashes
sent throbbing waves of hot pain.
“But your blood isn’t the blood of a common human being” she cocked an eyebrow
and dragged her words.
That was enough for Bruce to understand that she knew about his supposed
relation with Lilith: of course, even if Ra’s hadn’t told her – the death
catching up with him - Ubu did.
“I wouldn’t call any human being ‘common’...”
Talia chuckled and sank her fingers in Bruce’s locks slightly pulling them.
“I feel the power of your will, that fascinating defiance that enchanted my
father.”
She strutted in front of him wanting to see his face and eyes from close. Bruce
stilled his eyes on her face hiding every trace of the multiple fronts of pain
he had to fight, the latest the pain in his stretched armpits.
 Talia still wore the traditional ninja attire minus the head cover and her
long, raven hair brushed free her back. Inside her eyes Bruce could see the
same hungry glow of her father’s eyes: the glow that frightened him when he was
a teen - the glow of a hungry lion watching his delicious pray.
Talia ran her fingers feathery to Bruce’s armpits.
“They must be killing you” she commented. “I didn’t order that definitely
uncomfortable restraining.”
Bruce cocked an eyebrow.
“It seems that your orders aren’t much considered…” he snorted.
Talia’s eyes became wild and Bruce understood that even a hint of doubting her
rule irritated her.
“You ignite the most intense emotions in others...for good or bad making the
most loyal people forget their allegiance. Being aware of this…quality of yours
must be scaring…” she pierced Bruce’s eyes. “Especially, when you’re a child no
more than ten years old.”
“I don’t think that you made all these just to discuss my life.”
“No, definitely not. Though your life is intriguing and I want to decipher
every tiny detail; undig your every secret” her fingers caressed his
cheekbones.
His head was the only part of his body he could control so he jerked away from
her hand: he won’t be touched from an Al Ghul again: twelve years were more
than enough.
Talia’s lips twitched but her eyes were icy cold and still.
“I won and you lost” she stated blatantly as if that was the explanation. “The
winner takes the spoils” her eyebrow arched.
Bruce smirked.
“So I’m your ‘spoils’?”
“You’re the reason all these happened; my wayward property that I took back.
But you already knew that and had prepared your defence: still I was better
than you; I neutralized your allies and had a secret ace that would make your
surrender certain.”
Bruce’s eyes shone angrily remembering Alfred pale and drenched in his blood;
fear about his beloved butler bit his heart worse than the wounds from the
whip. Did Selina make it on time?
“Your eyes are truly mesmerizing…” Talia murmured her fingers hovering above
Bruce’s eyes but not touching.
“You shot Alfred!”
Talia nodded.
“Of course but I wouldn’t have killed him. I just wanted to make sure that your
resistance wouldn’t lead us to an unfortunate end - that is, you heavily
injured. I admit I haven’t predicted that you had a secret ace: your warrior
lady-friend; that changed a bit my plans” she tilted her head. “You see,
Alfred’s presence here would have made you more agreeable...but it doesn’t
matter...I have many ways to make you compliant.”
Bruce stabbed her with his eyes and Talia relished that interaction.
“What happened with Ra’s should have taught you that there’s no way I’ll be
compliant to you.”
She shook her head and brought her fleshy lips close to Bruce’s cheek.
“I always take what I want…” she breathed. “A mighty warrior emerging from the
ancient legends...Did my father know that you can create a reflection of
yourself to confuse your opponents?” Bruce didn’t answer and Talia nodded. “Not
even he knew the range of your incredible abilities and willpower though he
certainly suspected.”
She threw a small ninja blade cutting the cable that held Bruce suspended.
“I’ll fulfil my father’s dreams!”
Bruce was falling but he wasn’t able to do anything to stop it until Talia
wrapped her hands gently around his shoulders and supported him, her cheek
touching his before he jerked away; it was exactly as when Ra’s embraced him
the first years; the power emanating from the man, his mighty arms around him
giving to the poor, hopeless child the illusion of being at last safe.
“Your Mistress can be kind to you” Talia whispered in his ear.
Bruce turned his head and glared.
“I don’t have any Mistress” he declared calm but resolute.
She withdrew her hands letting him crash to the floor that was covered with
cement.
“Your entire life you were under the rule of a master or several
simultaneously” she snapped, her face emotionless. “Now you’ll have a Mistress
which you’ll serve with body and mind.”
Bruce slumped on the floor raised his nonchalant eyes to her that loomed over
him like a powerful goddess: but he was used to defy people who were like gods
or real demons.
“The fact you captured me doesn’t mean that I’ll become your slave.”
Talia yanked her head to her minions.
“Take his clothes off!”
As the ninjas approached him ready to execute their leader’s order, Bruce
headbutted the first to lay hands on him. This worsened his headache yet he
wouldn’t let them touch him and since his body was no more than a dead weight
hanging from his neck he fought with his head, hitting and biting under Talia’s
impressed stare.
His nose and lips were bleeding and his forehead bruised when a strong hand
fisted his hair and immobilised him; he thrashed trying to escape the grip and
once he made it but then Talia tightened her grip stimulating the spot that
made his exhaustion numb his muscles.
“You’re going to hurt yourself and I don’t want my property damaged” she said
cooly caressing Bruce’s locks between her lean but powerful fingers.
She cast a sideways glance to her men and they began immediately undressing
Bruce who gritted his teeth.
“I had expected from someone with your past to not be unused getting stripped
by strangers…” she raised an eyebrow. “Especially, with a body like this…”
Bruce managed to overcome her grip and jerked his head yet Talia gritting her
teeth chokeheld him with one arm and fisted his hair with the other
immobilising him again, realizing that if she hadn’t paralyzed him with the
bullets they’d have a big problem. Her mouth sank to Bruce’s soft locks.
“Hush, Bruce; admit your defeat and embrace your destiny” she breathed.
“There’s no destiny” he said tranquil though he was now completely naked.
Talia cast a second glance to her minions and one of them brought a folded pack
of fabric that Bruce instantly recognized as the black woolen training robe
Ra’s wanted him to wear.
In a couple of seconds he was dressed exactly as in his training days. A hollow
feeling rushed to capture his insides as if nothing had changed; as if the
previous months were just a beautiful dream and now he woke up again in the
nightmare. But no: he wouldn’t let that feeling bent him; he knew it was true:
his enemies were defeated and Talia would be defeated too in due time.
Talia let her grip on Bruce’s neck loosen as two of her men grabbed his arms to
heave him.The young man waiting for the opportunity yanked his head hitting the
first of the men yet as he turned to the second he felt a prick that numbed his
head.
Talia fisted his hair gently and showed him her ring with a small barb shining.
“You have to surrender, Bruce: with or without your will” she hissed and
gestured to the two holding Bruce to follow her.
He was dragged to a semi-lit narrow corridor where the stale air was thicker
and Bruce’s impression that the place was underground became certainty. They
stopped before a door that Talia unlocked.
It was a small room with a weird, human-sized case standing at the opposite
wall that reminded Bruce of a sarcophagus and a big coffin in the middle. A bad
feeling settled in Bruce.
Talia smirked and snapped her fingers, the signal for her minions to place
Bruce flat on his back inside the coffin; Bruce wasn’t afraid of death, for the
most part of his life he prayed to die and actually one of his most common
dreams the nights he slept cold and beaten in his cage was Falcone putting him
in a coffin and sending him to accompany his parents.
Yet when Talia’s men bent his knees and tied his ankles to the edges of the
coffin to leave him spread open, his heart unrestrained from his conscious
control began beating manic and without order.
And then he heard steps of someone entering the room and he saw Dr. Jonathan
Crane approaching him in his custom arrogant, sarcastic stare. Bruce couldn’t
show that he knew him so he kept a neutral, questioning frown slightly panicked
in the view of a new tormentor.
Talia snorted and walked closer.
“Let me…introduce to you” her eyebrow jerked “Dr. Jonathan Crane:
you’ll…collaborate with him in his prototype program.”
Crane smirked on that staring smugly at the tied man.
Bruce looked at her, transforming defiance into fear and Talia grinned on this
performance understanding that her captive didn’t want to let Crane see his
true self.
“I don’t understand…” he told her not completely scared but also not defiantly
as he was talking to her till now.
“Of course…” she arched her eyebrows. “But before you start Dr. Crane’s
intensive courses I have to do something else’’ she nodded to Crane and he
pulled out of his pocket a syringe and a vial.
Bruce’s eyes widened watching Crane preparing the syringe.
“No…” he whispered and tried to move away from Crane’s syringe to realize that
now he could only barely move his head.
“Relax, Mr. Wayne…” Crane’s voice had such a sick, mock reassurance that along
with his eyes’ manic glee would have evoked exactly the opposite results if
someone else was in Bruce’s position.
Bruce wasn’t panicked despite the fact he knew that something bad was prepared
for him – Crane was convicted for his experiments on Arkham’s inmates and was
treated in the same institution for his many mental problems. And he had tasted
his sick creations when Falcone forced him to take the sex pill and Ra’s gave
him his fear toxin. He made his stare scared seeing the needle sinking to his
neck.
“No…” he repeated but Crane emptied the orange liquid and swept the spot with
cotton dampened in alcohol before retreating outside the room.
Talia cupped Bruce’s jaw and yanked his head to lock their eyes.
“One brilliant performance more” she said mutter-of-factly. “Crane is a worm;
he can’t be trusted.”
“Like Luthor whom you set up.”
Talia’s eyes sparkled satisfied.
“So clever! You figured out why I killed those mobsters with Luthor’s weapons.
But you wouldn’t wanted him get away either…You took special care into
revealing to the police his part to your kidnapping leading to his immediate
arrest” her grin became wide.
“He wasn’t my ally.”
Talia shrugged.
“Neither mine: I just used him. Vilains like him need to be treated like this:
use them and neutralize them before they stab you in the back. You know that;
you see, as much as your stubbornness blinds you and you don’t want to admit
it, our purposes are the same.”
“You’re wrong: murdering people in cold blood was never my purprose. I’m not a
psychotic murderer who names the thirst for violence and death justice.”
Talia grinded her teeth with ire but just lolled her head crossing her arms.
“You killed my father” she said calmly.
“I was defending myself: the knife was pointing my heart.”
Talia nodded; the Knife of Justice according to the legends had its own will
and always managed to serve its rightful master and justice. She didn’t like
that thought.
“Father would have never killed you” she commented.
Bruce turned his fevered eyes to her.
“There are many ways someone can kill a man…or a child” he answered and his
eyes flashed “and Ra’s used all of them before trying the physical
extermination.”
His eyes suddenly became blurry, his migraine that had deteriorated from his
struggle with Talia’s minions now was a sea drowning him in pain and incoherent
images; Talia’s face swam before him and even the feelings from his body were
strange.
He managed to make out through batting his eyelids two ninjas opening the
sarcophagus revealing what made Bruce’s spine shudder by electric currents and
his heart stop abruptly: Ra’s was staring at him with his usual arrogant way
and smug grin; he was exactly as he remembered him.
“You mummified your father?”
Talia leaned over him, her face expressionless except her intense eyes.
“My father missed you, Bruce…”
She untied the belt of his robe and pulled the fabric from his body; Bruce
through the mist and the pain hammering relentlessly his head glared at her but
she unfazed ran with her fingers his torso from the chest till the underbelly
settling a nauseating feeling on Bruce’s stomach enhanced by his suspicions
about what she was up to.
Talia moved and her sideways glance to her minions was the signal for them to
take Ra’s’ body and bring it to the coffin: cold shivers ran Bruce’s bleeding
back seeing his mentor’s carcass eerily preserved exactly as the day he was
killed. Bruce wanted to clench his fists and control his breath to fight the
panic that sent tremors to his body and made his heart beat uncontrollably
fast; the weird smell of the things they used to mummify Ra’s worsened his
migraine. He felt on the verge of fainting but this salvation didn’t come.
Talia’s expressionless, cold eyes were scrutinizing her captive and then she
nodded and her men laid Ra’s’ corpse on Bruce who though unable to move he
could feel everything: the creepy sensation of something dead for months
touching intimately his flesh, the smell, the sight of the unnaturally
preserved flesh; Ra’s’ lips glued on his cheek.
Bruce felt the childish urge to scream yet he focused his eyes to Talia
incredibly steady considering the liquid fog that covered them.
“You’re nuts” he spat nonchalant.
“I’m your Mistress: I inherited you from Father and now I’m fulfilling his
wishes.”
Bruce glared at her.
“He is dead; he has no wishes anymore. And the fact you hold me here doesn’t
mean you’re my Mistress - I have no Master!” His ability to utter all these
things impressed him since his entire existence were suffering and sinking into
filthy waters; the fact he still had clarity of thought and coherence
encouraged him.
“Is that so, child?” that voice froze the blood in his veins and tensed his
body: Ra’s’ sarcastic voice hit his ears with his trademark snort mixed with
mock affection. “All of your life you called me ‘master’; you were begging your
master for leniency and mercy…”
Bruce saw Ra’s’ gleeful grey eyes above his and his breath began rasping before
he controlled it with the last drops of strength Crane’s drug left him. It
wasn’t real; all this wasn’t real just a hallucination the drug brought.
“You don’t even have the decency and courage to answer me?” Ra’s sniggered.
“Some warrior you are!”
Bruce closed his eyes; everything around him was in a twirl, the throbbing pain
inside his skull bulged like boiling lava before the explosion. The tide of
pressure and fire blasted angrily the walls of his skull, threatening to
demolish his eardrums with the roaring buzz. His eyes watered, making Ra’s’
evil smirk nightmarishly distorted.
He is not real, he is dead: all these are results of the drug - he can’t harm
you anymore...you beat him...he died… Bruce was trying to keep repeating but he
felt greedy, powerful hands groping his body, lips sucking his neck and biting
hard on his flesh tracing his body; his body that felt everything intensified
but couldn’t move, couldn’t struggle, couldn’t resist...
Ra’s’ sharp nails were grazing his back sinking in the wounds the whip had dug
and his teeth bit hard his nipple; Bruce clenched his jaw stubbornly to not
whine but his breath was uneven and was caught in his lungs when he felt the
familiar length hardening on his pelvis.
It’s a hallucination...he struggled to form the thought in his misty, stormed
mind but his mind was beating in the migraine’s pace repeating the same
horrific conclusion: a corpse was raping him…
Al Ghul’s familiar penis rock hard penetrated him with a swift motion
overcoming the resistance tearing the flesh; the pain was exactly as when Chill
raped him for the first time and he wanted to scream but he wouldn’t give that
satisfaction to her whose eyes could feel savoring his suffering. Your drugged
mind undiggs your past memories and transforms them to bodily feelings...He
gritted his teeth, his jaw jolting when catapulting movements grazed his
insides.
“I told you that you have to relax” Ra’s whispered smirking above his tearful
eyes “but I’m glad you never learnt to!”
The horrible mouth salivated his cheekbone and moved to trace his jawline and
then his neck sucking bruisingly hard and biting to tear the tender flesh as
the impaling continued mercilessly. Bruce had stopped breathing as Ra’s’ cold
and dry mouth gulped his nipples while his hands massaged Bruce’s abdomens; the
pace of thrusts became frantic mounting Bruce’s nausea and headache when he
felt his anus ripping as if he was a little kid.
“How it feels to be fucked by a corpse?” Ra’s sniggered and his mouth swallowed
Bruce’s mouth filling the younger man’s throat with his own blood; blood and
semen as Ra’s came inside him burning his flesh and shuttering his spine.
Bruce closed his eyes, Ra’s’ thick wooden tongue was insatiably thrusting deep
inside his throat blocking his air pipe. Deep inside his shattered mind he knew
that it was a hallucination but it felt as real as his past…
He hadn’t any connection with the outer world, there was only his boiling mind:
a horrible void filled with pain and disgust and anger and exhaustion; Ra’s was
laid upon him, his heavy head on his shoulder, his acid, sour smell stabbing
his nose. His head was going to explode but the explosion would never come to
give him relief.
Bruce’s head lolled to the side and he threw up the few things his stomach had
and the abundance of disgust.
Suddenly, in the storm inside his skull a ray of sunlight pierced the gray-
black clouds and a rectangular building with walls made of glass emerged and he
could see inside two people lying on a blanket cuddled together in the bliss of
love. He could see the crystal blue eyes of the taller one shining from love
while absorbed in the sleeping face of the man he was holding tenderly but
tight, two soft lips caressing the cheek to his side.
Clark...Clark didn’t come...He didn’t make it on time...He certainly was saving
human lives...An angel loving him from all people; he must be devastated for
not being able to come for him... Clark would blame himself but it wasn’t his
fault; they should look forward and exploit the League’s supposed success to
destroy them.
It was difficult: he wanted to be in their greenhouse right now spooned by
Clark’s warm body. But the sensation of Ra’s’ wooden, cold body burst abruptly
again to seize his entire existence and fuel the excruciating pain in his mind
dragging him violently to unconsciousness…
 
Talia found Bane inside her study; she had just supervised the servants as they
bathed, tended his wounds, dressed and settled Bruce. She was satisfied from
what she had watched but upon seeing her right hand waiting her mood changed.
“I see you guessed that I’d want to speak to you” Talia snapped approaching
him.
Bane turned his serious eyes on her.
“We never needed words to communicate our wants…”
She arched an eyebrow.
“But you changed” she snapped.
Bane’s eyes jerked wide and his hands touched Talia’s upper arms.
“You can’t be serious! I’m the same man I’ve always been: your man” his voice
was deep in emotion. “But you seem lately to forget that as many other things.”
Talia’s eyebrows jolted upwards, her gaze cold.
“Speak clear” she spat.
“Really you don’t understand? You’re different, Talia: this damned man put you
under his spell like your father!” he softened his voice. “Do you remember how
hurt you felt seeing your father fucking him? You wanted to slay that little
whore and now you fell for him.”
Talia smirked.
“Why do you hate him?”
Bane let her arms.
“He is an evil being, a demon.”
Talia’s smirk erased on that: did Bane know? She decided to check it.
“Evil being? He was just a little child when Falcone took him and made him his
slave; I’ve seen pictures of Bruce before the murders: he was like an angel: a
sweet, cute, beautiful child with mesmerizing eyes. And he was a broken,
malnoutrished, hurt teen when father took him in.”
Talia enjoyed the jealousy in Bane’s eyes and the twist his lips would have had
if his face wasn’t so horribly disfigured.
“Maybe all these people tortured him because they felt the evil inside him!” he
replied gritting his teeth. “You asked me why I hate him” he snapped
understanding easily that his Mistress was having fun with him. “Because he
became the reason for you to feel betrayed by your own father, hurt…I remember
how you trembled in my arms the first time you saw Ra’s fucking that damned
whore” Talia blinked uncomfortable remembering how she had let her weakness
show then but it was with Bane. “I hate him because you hate him, remember?”
Talia shook her head and yanked it.
“I was a pig-headed teen then restricted to my opinions, ideas and feelings: I
didn’t want even to consider my father’s arguments; I believed that it was just
a sick passion for a kid while Ra’s wanted the best for the League and its
cause.”
Bane snorted.
“The best for his dick!” he spat. “He never got enough of fucking that kid; he
was enchanted…”
Talia’s eyes sparkled angrily.
“Don’t speak like that for father!”
Bane shrugged.
“I just repeat your own words…” he said sarcastic. “When you weren’t enchanted
by that whore!”
Talia clenched her jaw and fists, Bane keeping his eyes locked with hers
challenging her.
“You forgot the one who stood by you throughout your entire life, the one who
loves you with his life; for the sake of a whore who plots to destroy you and
your father’s organization: he almost did it once and killed his benefactor –
your father! Wayne is ungrateful, a traitor, born to destroy the fools that
trust him!”
Talia’s teeth gritted.
“Ra’s Al Ghul wasn’t a fool nor am I: or you take me for a fool?” she hissed.
“Still the evil bastard managed to ruin your father’s plans, sent to jail some
of our best men and in the end killed Ra’s Al Ghul.”
Talia turned her back and walked to the desk.
“That proves that my father was right to believe in Bruce’s unique abilities; I
witnessed them with my own eyes” she said slyly. “He defeated his trainer” she
cast him a sharp sideways glance “that is, you, and created a reflection of
himself as only the legendary ninja warriors could” she heard Bane huffing.
“Father knew that Bruce was unbowed but overestimated his ability to intimidate
and bent Bruce’s spirit.”
Bane armed with his despair to save Talia from her father’s disastrous path and
her obsession for Wayne rushed to her and held her shoulders affectionately.
“Don’t do the same mistake, beloved!” he used the address they used in their
teenage years. “Avenge your father, Talia: torture Wayne till he dies begging
you for mercy; but not follow the same path!”
Talia inclined a bit her head and Bane thought relieved that she was
considering what he said but she took his hands from her shoulders and turned
to face him, her eyes glimmering resolute and strict.
“Do I have to watch my back?” she asked demandingly and Bane frowned not
understanding.
“What? Do you…accuse me of thinking of betraying you?” disbelief quivered his
voice.
Talia yanked her head.
“I was watching the developments in Gotham, ecstatic seeing Superman on GCN
shuffling devastated where we took his mate: he couldn’t make it on time from
Adam’s Bridge and that proves that his exposure to Bruce has sapped him; I was
coming to share my excitement with you only to realize that you exploited my
absence to damage my property.”
He shook his head.
“Your excitement comes only from Wayne…” he mumbled bitterly.
But Talia had had enough of his irritating jealousy that only hindered her
planning.
“Do I have to send you away to avoid the stabbing in the back?” she asked
firmly but with a hint of sorrow.
Bane’s eyes bulged.
“I would never betray you, beloved! You know that!”
Talia lolled her head and crossed her arms regarding her loyal warrior
carefully: she was sure of his loyalty but she couldn’t trust his willingness
to ‘protect’ her, his jealousy and hatred for Bruce. And she’d use his love to
take a renewed statement of allegiance.
“My wish is to have Bruce alive and serving me blindly: that’s the worst
punishment for him and the best revenge for my father. Furthermore, with his
skills and genius devoted to us we’ll be the rullers of a new world of justice
and prosperity. If you damage Bruce or kill him, you will betray me and our
love… We triumphed and I was hoping that I’ll enjoy it with you on my side” her
lips quivered. “I never expected you from all people defying me” her eyes
became hurt as when she came to Gotham and saw Ra’s with his underage whore.
Bane couldn’t stand this stare; he took Talia’s hands and kissed them with the
black silk hiding his non existent lips; his disfigurement never stopped his
Mistress from loving him and giving her gorgeous body to him.
“I’d never betray your will, Talia…”
She grinned satisfied and her eyes sparkled evilly.
“Bruce can serve both of us, beloved, giving you the same pleasure I know you
miss so much from your one and only time…”
Bane’s eyes widened and struggled to mumble his protest but Talia brushed the
black silk covering his cheek with a smug, knowing expression.
 
Tony was enraged as he stepped out of the elevator to the conference room’s
floor, Pepper following. The day had hardly begun and Lucius called him to
inform him for an emergency board meeting.
He had fallen to his bed for just two hours supposedly to sleep but to no
avail: bad thoughts and even worse images flooding his upset mind. He felt
jealous of Alfred’s sedated sleep or Superman’s independence of sleep – not
that he wasn’t accustomed to function without any or with few hours of sleep
but the events of the last hours had drained him. And this call spoiled more
his foul mood since he had more important things to do than a stupid board
meeting.
The presence of dozens of reporters outside the Tower made his head ache from
anger because he was sure that someone informed them. He avoided them choosing
the underground parking from the building’s back entrance; however he caught a
glimpse of Clark Kent, his face pale and exhausted as his: he never expected to
see Superman tired as a human being without any Kryptonite around…
Lucius was waiting them outside the conference room.
“Who set this?” Tony snapped at him, the scientist’s tranquility startling him.
“Daggett” Lucius arched his brows in emphasis.
“That grave robber sonovabitch!” Tony snapped.
Pepper touched his upper arm and Tony looked at her.
“Calm down, Tony.”
“He was plotting with Luthor to get rid of Bruce and now he wants to snatch the
loot treading on Bruce’s body…” he halted abruptly and pressed his hair
lowering his eyes: he shouldn’t even think of that.
Pepper pressed her lips.
“Bruce will be alright, hon. And we won’t do Daggett the favor…”
Lucius grinned mysteriously and nodded.
“Certainly not, Miss Potts. Shall we?”
Tony couldn’t understand Lucius’ calmness - alright, the man competed with
Alfred in composure but still when you see Daggett glowing from satisfaction
speaking conspicuous with some members of the board how can you not smash his
sneering face? Surely he barely stopped himself before opening champagnes...His
eyes regarded Tony arrogantly, jeering him, his confidence radiating: he had
already declared himself President.
Tony gritted his teeth but Pepper grabbed his upper arm hushing him with her
eyes.
Fredericks who was already in the room rushed to them.
“Did they find Bruce?” he asked Lucius and the scientist shook his head
negatively; Fredericks’ eyes widened. “What they want? They contacted you?” he
turned to Tony.
“No” he answered.
Frederics shook his head.
“Daggett almost started a party” he mumbled.
Lucius cocked an eyebrow.
“Let him enjoy it while he can” he said enigmatic and gestured for them to move
to the huge elliptic table.
With Tony and Lucius the board was completed minus Bruce and everyone took
their seat with the President’s chair on the head being the only empty. Tony
cast a fleeting glance to his friend’s seat and caught with the corner of his
eye Daggett flirting with it, almost salivating; the billionaire from Malibu
rolled his eyes and focused on Pepper’s hand brushing his hand soothingly.
“I think we can start now” Fredericks as the older member of the board said
serious but grudgy. “Mr. Daggett asked for an emergency meeting of the board.
We’re listening, Mr. Daggett” his voice was almost bored.
Daggett leaned relaxed on his chair’s back and arched his eyebrows suggestively
towards the President’s empty seat.
“I think that the void in that seat on the head of this table is enough reason
to call a meeting.”
Tony began fuming but Lucius was listening calm.
Daggett smiled seeing the approval in some shareholders’ expressions.
“From the moment Mr. Wayne became the President, thanks to some of the members’
emotionalism, the Enterprises wobble dangerously every now and then from the
youth’s misfortunes: Falcone’s downfall, trials, Joker, endless sick leaves and
now the latest…”
Tony crossed his arms and yanked his head.
“Wayne Enterprises aren’t in their best shape after the adventure with Falcone
- courtesy of our...incompetent president - and can’t afford to be so often
rocked along with Mr. Wayne” he moved his eyebrows. “What I want to say is that
the fate of our Enterprises can’t be intertwined with Mr. Wayne’s not so...good
luck…” he struggled to utter it seriously but almost chuckled causing some
glares and some chuckles. “Mr. Wayne’s misfortunes cause pitches to the company
and our money are in constant risk.”
On that Pepper yanked her head.
“That’s completely unbased, Mr. Daggett” she snapped and sent the data from her
tablet to the huge screen that was built-in the wall.
The shareholders show the chart with the shares’ progress from the day Bruce
took the Presidency with the impressive rise after the announcement of the
bionic body parts and the stability with rising tendencies after that. Even the
last hours’ movements of the shares in the Asian Markets were good enough and
definitely didn’t suggest the dooming atmosphere Daggett described.
“According to these, we expect the same picture in the home market and the
European” Pepper continued and Tony tightened his fist on the table looking his
fingers under stretched eyebrows.
Daggett lolled his head to the side his stare mocking.
“Miss Potts, you know very well that the market is waiting but as the minutes
of this uncertainty pass they will jump us and rip apart Wayne Enterprises
taking advantage of their weak President.”
Tony fisted his hand and punched the table, grinding his teeth.
“Bruce isn’t weak!”
Daggett rolled his eyes.
“His life story indicates otherwise…” he arched his eyebrows. “Mr. Wayne
doesn’t qualify for the demanding position of an international conglomerate’s
President: proof? He left the Enterprises adrift fighting the storm he created”
he opened his hands wide. “We need a new reliable, strong President to handle
that crisis not a leaf that is carried away by the slightest of winds.”
Tony’s eyes became flames as he shot daggers at Daggett but Pepper kept holding
his upper arm.
Lucius though his eyes had a sparkle of irritation grinned calmly.
“I’m afraid I’ll spoil your mood, Mr. Daggett: Wayne Enterprises aren’t
headless even for a minute; as a matter of fact, the seat shouldn’t be vacant”
he arched his eyebrows. “Mr. Fredericks, please take your seat.”
“What?!” Daggett exclaimed followed by most of the shareholders.
Tony looked at Lucius as Fredericks did.
“Mr. Wayne made arrangements so that in case of his absence Mr. Fredericks have
his votes for President. The papers are here and they are perfectly legit. As
you see, Mr. Wayne took care of his company’s welfare.”
Daggett paled and frowned watching Fredericks walking determined to the
President’s chair. The wise man understood that Bruce wanted his respected
presence in the head of Wayne Enterprises to ensure tranquility and safety
during his absence. He felt touched for the youth’s trust and the
responsibility was heavy on his shoulders as he took Bruce’s seat.
“Mr. Fredericks has my vote and support” Tony said grinning: he was a bit
irritated that Bruce didn’t tell him anything yet he was happy for his friend’s
providence to block Daggett and other sharks’ way to his Enterprises.
“And of course mine” Lucius smiled.
Most of the shareholders agreed to Fredericks’ appointment; the man being for
decades one of the Enterprises’ pillars through good and bad days.
Dagget shook his head trying to swallow his wrath for being once again
outsmarted by that boy.
“Childish! Puting the responsibility on another’s shoulder to struggle with the
mess his deeds brought!”
Tony jumped on his feet.
“Isn’t Bruce’s fault that a scum cooperated with terrorists to kidnap him! I
mean your buddy Luthor! You were meant to share the spoils but since he was
busted you thought to keep them all for yourself!”
Daggett rose too.
“You can’t launch accusations you can’t prove! The fact I had an acquaintance
with Luthor doesn’t make me his accomplice!”
Luthor stood too and made a calming gesture.
“Mr. Daggett, you spoke about some crisis the company is facing” his eyes
sparkled derisive. “There’s no crisis” he brushed the screen of his prototype
tablet and a new chart showed up on the wall.
Pepper’s eyes bulged on the realization and Tony collapsed in his chair not
believing in his eyes.
Lucius nodded.
“Mr. Wayne gave me the order to buy LEXCORP’s rapidly dropping shares from the
Asian Markets. The investors after Luthor’s arrest are massively selling to
save some of their money. So” he arched his eyebrows “I’m in the pleasant
position to announce you that Wayne Enterprises hold the 20% of LEXCORP and the
control of LEXLABS.”
“Wow!” Tony gasped. “Little guy, you rock: you beat them in their own game!”
Daggett swallowed hard and sank in his chair sweatdrops emerging in his
forehead: Wayne managed to snow them and ended up strengthening his position;
he gritted his teeth. Damn! At least, he could still hope that those vulgars
will kill the bastard and he won’t enjoy his victory.
Tony scrutinizing him with blank eyes and purged lips could easily read his
thoughts and was ready to storm at him.
But all of a sudden the elated from the unexpected success shareholders saw
police officers bursting inside the conference room, Lieutenant Bullock leading
them.
Tony turned his head flabbergasted as the rest.
“I’m sorry for the interruption, ladies and gentlemen” the tough officer
snapped. “John Daggett, you’re under arrest for cooperation with the mob and
terrorist groups” two of his officers rushed to the shocked Daggett and began
handcuffing him “conspiring for the attack at Wayne Tower and for attempting
murdering Superman.”
“WHAT?!” Daggett shouted. “YOU’RE CRAZY!”
Bullock lolled his head and stopped for a second.
“You have the right to remain silent; everything you’ll say…” he recited
impassively as his officers closed the handcuffs.
Tony watched happy but still finding the scene surreal as in an extremely
pleasant dream. The other members were staring almost agape the police dragging
Daggett away.
“Have a nice day” Bullock said flatly and saluted in military style closing the
door behind him.
Tony inhaled deeply and whistled.
“At last, I breathe clean air!”
Pepper was reviewing the major media outlets in her StarkStell portable
processor as the shareholders left the room; after Daggett’s arrest the meeting
didn’t take long. The shock from Daggett’s revelation was fast forgotten in the
thrilling of Bruce’s last achievement that already made headlines in the
internet and breaking news at Bloomberg and other financial networks: Daily
Planetwas the first to announce the bomb-news.
“Clark deserved an exclusive…” Pepper shrugged under Tony’s frown. “I mailed
him the news before anyone learns. I wish I could see Luthor’s face when finds
out that he is screwd! And as expected, Wall Street opened with Wayne
Enterprises’ shares rallying and LEXCORP sinking. The news of Daggett’s arrest
is in national networks and of cource his company’s shares are dropping fast. ”
Tony nodded.
“That serves them right” he was satisfied, he could be hopping and dancing
around yet his stomach was clenched and his face grim.
Lucius approached him.
“Mr. Stark, I want you to understand that Mr. Wayne gave his support to Mr.
Fredericks and not you because he wanted to avoid the possible objections since
you’re the president of another corporation. And some would have doubted his
choice because you’re friends: that was the reason he didn’t appoint me or
Alfred: Mr. Fredericks is more neutral and a broadly accepted and respected
person with a long history in the Enterprises and Bruce can trust him to hold
his position till he is back; also, that way we’ll avoid possible discords. He
didn’t tell you anything to not upset you: it was his contingency plan in case
things went awry but he hoped that it wouldn’t have to be executed.”
Tony shook his head and bit his lip.
“I don’t give a damn about the presidency, Lucius! It’s just frustrating that
Bruce isn’t here to enjoy his triumph...Fuck!” he ran his hands in his hair.
“He took care of everything! He secured his company’s future! He made it
possible to check Luthor’s evil schemes! And at this moment he is…” he closed
his eyes. “Only thinking what these motherfuckers could be doing to him…” he
huffed and Pepper hastened to hug him under Lucius’ sorrowful stare.
Tony’s phone rang and he answered it, rubbing his eyes.
“Okay, Leslie; I’m coming.” He ended the call. “Alfred woke up.”
 
He was in pain, well, that wasn’t original; a never fully healed concussion
deteriorated by figting with headbutts, two throbbing bullets stuck in his
vertebra, three deep lash wounds running his back and the painful outcome of a
forced penetration…no, that last one wasn’t true though it felt like.
His body felt numb, unwilling to make the tiniest movement not that he blamed
it: all these fatigue and erosive pain along with those bullets…
But he was clean and dressed: someone had washed him and tended his wounds and
that confused him. Maybe Talia, Bane and Ra’s were just a nightmare…no, it
can’t be, it was true: they captured him…But someone took care of him…he was
lying on a mattress not a coffin…so maybe his friends found him while Ra’s
was…? No, wasn’t Ra’s…just a drug induced hallucination…Crane had shot him with
a hallucinogen for that his mind was so fogged…so maybe Tony or Selina or…Clark
found him, carried him in his arms – a faint smile moved his lips: how he
always ended up in Clark’s arms?
And now Alfred was taking care of him as when Falcone had punched him and the
pointy fireplace railing pierced him or when Falcone spanked him…My good
Alfred…He was free again and surely Clark waited eagerly for him to recover to
sleep in their greenhouse…He desired that too: only a few hours had passed and
he already missed the Man of Steel…Clark would be angry with him for what
happened but his joy for having him back would surely have smoothened his
anger…
But no... Alfred was injured…his heart sank: his second father was bleeding
badly and…and he couldn’t lose another father. Selina had saved him but Alfred
couldn’t take care of him…and this smell of air that technically was refreshed
yet its staleness wasn’t completely removed… – he knew perfectly the air of the
underground either stale or fresh from underground springs. And now he was
definitely underground, still captive, which was…he wanted to sigh but he knew
that he wasn’t alone…well, was…good because the plan B was moving ahead without
Talia suspecting – she was preoccupied with him and her triumph...
His eyes opened exhausted from the rapid travel from the relief of believing he
was again safe to the realization of being still in hostile hands; however he
braced himself for everything.
“You’re in good hands, Bruce…” Talia’s smug voice breathed to his ear.
But Bruce wasn’t listening; his blood stopped running in his veins and his
breath got trapped in his lungs: that wasn’t…it was impossible…
Chill dragged him inside, clenching his upper arm; Falcone was already there
slumped on a throne- like high backed chair. Bruce’s upper lip trempled from
weak anger that to them seemed like fear and hopelessness: Falcone planned to
settle in Wayne Manor taking him along to continue violating him in his
parents’ house.
Coming in he saw Alfred composed as always but a bit paler than he remembered
him; the butler keeping his eyes away from Bruce’s – as they had agreed -
showed them inside leading them through the construction crews that destroyed
what his parents had made to give to the Manor the ugliness of Falcone’s soul
translated to inner decoration.
He swore to restore the Manor to its past pure beauty as soon as he prevailed
over his enemies, which seemed too far away even though he had begun
implementing his plan with Lucius’ help.
Alfred led them to the back drawing room where his mother used to sit and read
her favorite books; he opened the door for them and once inside he closed and
left.
His eyes sparkled: Falcone had already changed the room throwing away the
furniture and every item his mother had gathered with love and care; more than
anger Bruce felt a dagger stabbing his heart as Falcone was ripping everything
that kept alive his parents’ presence to this world.
A tall, plump man was with Falcone dressed in loose pants and a long loose
tunic in lilac tones.
The stranger’s  benevolent round eyes became rounder on seeing him enter and
his jaw stayed slightly agape making Bruce lower more his eyes feeling the same
embarrassment as ever, his years of training being useless in that matter.
However he could still see Falcone’s satisfied eyes on his guest’s reaction.
“Mon Dieu! Comme il est beau!! He is so handsome!”
“He’s my littl’ gem, Pier: the prettiest an’ priciest piece of my collection…”
he laughed with his hard sarcastic way. “He’s really somethin’, huh?” Falcone’s
guest nodded goggling at Bruce in an estimating way.
Falcone smirked, his pleased ego glowing in his wolfish eyes.
“Strip, littl’ gem…” he said nonchalant to Bruce and he tensed.
After sixteen years of constantly doing that he still hardly bear to be naked
in front of his tormentors’ familiar humiliating stares, but taking off his
clothes in front of the hungry eyes of a stranger was gruesome. His hands
stayed limbo at his sides and his eyes glared at the floor since he couldn’t
show his defiance to his ‘master’.
Falcone sat more rigid in his armchair, his face already tense in irritation.
“Littl’ gem…” he said warningly “I need to repeat it?”
Bruce shook his head and hesitantly took off his jean jacket that Chill
grabbed. His hands trembled as he held the rim of his T-shirt and it wasn’t due
only to shyness but also to boiling anger that couldn’t explode: so many years
and even now that he had the training and the strength he still had to tolerate
all these… He controlled his heart’s beat and pulled off his T-shirt letting it
fall to the floor: nothing should risk the plan.
His torso was naked and although the room was warm he felt cold as everyone’s
eyes roamed every detail of his flesh.
“Je suis sans voix…”
Falcone yanked his head.
“Everythin’, boy” he waved his hand.
Bruce’s eyes widened and his breath hissed; he gulped and moved his hands to
the button and then his jeans’ fly. As his hands grabbed his waistband, they
just stopped working, unwilling to execute the order: this was new and not less
humiliating than the rest. His head ached and he clenched his teeth; he wanted
to storm at Falcone and broke his every bone...for everything he did and was
doing to him and for that new disgrace!...But he couldn’t: it was early and
Ra’s would imprison him destroying his mind after killing his loved ones.
He lowered his jeans and underwear to at least take away from Falcone the
satisfaction of ordering that next, willing himself to ignore the greedy stares
and scrutinizing of the stranger who explored with his light blue eyes every
inch of his exposed body.
“Un dieu! Show me your face, mon cher; don’t be shy. Je suis un artiste: I’m an
artist.”
“Do it!” Falcone snapped and Bruce raised his head to look at the artist’s
form.
Who goggled and Bruce’s heart exploded from anger, sending blood to burn his
cheeks; he wasn’t a soulless showpiece, damn it!
“Le Paradis est rempli d'anges. I’m lucky to see one walking the earth!” the
plumb man turned to Falcone. “Thank you, mon ami! I’ll make his portrait” his
greasy face glowed from eagerness and Falcone grinned satisfied.
Bruce’s eyes widened: that was outrageous! Horrible! It can’t be…
“Bare naked” Falcone said looking arrogantly at Bruce. “I want to keep his
beauty eternally min’ even after I’ll disfigure him when fed up with him” he
gave a malignant snigger.
“How can you get bored of such a savoureux garçon?”
Falcone focused his mean eyes on Bruce’s who lowered them.
“I decide how much he lives...an’ his worthless life won’t be very long…”
The French paled but gulped and smiled.
“So let’s begin: the boy is inspiration!”
In half an hour Falcone had his people bring what the painter asked: a huge
round cushion and black silken sheets. Bruce was watching with lowered eyes
fighting the nausea boiling in his stomach; he was sat in a corner tucked in
sheets behind a paravan but still completely naked, the French studying him
from every angle.
“Your eyes are spectacular, mon cher; I haven’t seen anything like this before.
I must depict them perfectly.”
Bruce cursed inside his doom to watch apathetic once again his enemies forcing
him to things he hated. He wasn’t a lifeless object! He was so angry but his
inability to do anything was almost leading him to tears.
When the workers left the dread in his heart became a drum; the artist set his
canvas which was really huge and prepared his colors and brushes under
Falcone’s eager eyes and sly smile.
“Mon ange” Bruce jumped startled “uncover your body and lie on the cushion.”
Bruce didn’t make a move and Chill hurried to grab the sheet but Bruce managed
to uncover himself before the Vulture touched him; he sat on the cushion but
didn’t do anything.
“Let me show you, mon petit…”
The artist looked at Falcone for permission and the Gray Wolf nodded. Bruce
jolted when the lukewarm, greasy hands touched his shoulder and waist and led
him to lie flat on his stomach and then he clenched his teeth and closed his
eyes willing his asthmatic breath to even as the French touched his thigh and
bent it slightly to the front to stress the curves of his buttocks. Then the
artist took his arm, put it to hug the silk and cupped gently Bruce’s face to
place his chin on his forearm.
“Open your magnificent eyes, mon cher.”
Bruce obeyed because he felt Falcone’s glare. But still Pier wasn’t satisfied.
“You have to relax, mon petit…” he said frustrated. “You’re a gorgeous young
man and I want to immortalize your beauty but I want you to be loose…”
Bruce wanted to growl: how could he be ‘loose’ lying naked before all these
eyes and forced to be the model of a stupid artist who agreed to paint someone
who clearly was the captive of a mobster?
“I want you to be innocent seduction...an alluring angel driving mortals to the
hell of carnal pleasure…” the French continued his delirium.
“He definitely is…” Falcone snorted. “Do as he says, littl’ gem!”
But he couldn’t even using every relaxing method Ra’s had taught him; he just
couldn’t - the manic eyes of the artist behind his canvas, Falcone’s greedy
eyes and salivating mouth promising him an exhausting, disgusting night and
Chill clenching his hands to hide his arousal.
Pier jerked his hands in the air frustrated. His face was sweaty.
“Non! Non! Non!” he yelled. “You have to relax, mon cher! It’s just a
painting…”
Bruce bit his lip and tried to control his breath.
“I want your eyes half closed...sending innuendos…Your body emanating promises
of heavenly pleasure…”
Bruce shuddered and his body got cold.
After half an hour, Pier was all red and huffing.
“Merde! C’est vraiment des conneries! I can’t, monsieur Falcone; I can’t work
like this: if your boy doesn’t do as I say, I’m out!” he ran his hands to his
shoulder length curly hair.
Falcone stood up and walked slowly to the cushion his eyes drawing daggers at
Bruce who lowered his eyes. Falcone grabbed his chin, yanked his head and
slapped him violently.
The painter gasped.
“No, monsieur Falcone! Don’t hit him!”
Falcone’s teeth were still gritted but he remembered that a stranger was
watching and dropped Bruce’s head on the cushion.
“Behave yarself or otherwise… ya remember my crop!” he growled and returned to
his armchair.
“Now he definitely won’t calm…” the French exclaimed and rushed to sit beside
Bruce caressing his locks soothingly and then cupping his face. “It’s alright,
Pauvre bébé!”
Chill approached his boss smirking.
“I know a way for ‘im do what we want...the new drug…”
Falcone’s face took a sly grin and nodded.
Chill gestured to the painter to move and he sat on the cushion; he grabbed
Bruce’s jaw and brought a small pink pill to his lips. Bruce’s eyes bulged.
“No…” he whispered. “Please...I...I’ll do what you want…”
“Ya had yar chance” Falcone snapped. “Give it to him!”
Chill pressed cruelly Bruce’s mouth and dropped the pill inside, clenching his
jaw till he swallowed it. Bruce could avoid swallowing it as Ra’s had taught
him but they mustn’t suspect.
Everything blurred instantly and his heart began beating slowly, his breath
even, his body loose like water. And then his flesh filled with goosebumbs and
the silk felt so beautiful like he was on a cloud...all of a sudden, his legs
paralyzed hugging the cushion as if it was his salvation and his arm caressed
the fine fabric, his head so heavy that fell on his forearm; his eyes were
tired but not as much as to lead him to a peaceful sleep so his lids covered
half his orbs that glowed almost tearful.
Pier began working but with his eyes sorrowful; he got the pose of his dreams
but the way it happened shocked him.
“I assume that you recognize the painting” Talia’s smug voice, unusually soft
but still a bit sarcastic grazed his ears.
Bruce’s eyes looked at the huge painting on the wall opposing the bed he was
on.
“Where did you find that?” he asked: Selina had the painting so if they got the
painting, they found Selina and maybe she was in their hands or...worse.
Talia sighed.
“You honestly thought that there was only the painting you destroyed?” she
arched her eyebrows “Father when learnt that Falcone had your portrait made,
asked from the painter to make a second, exactly the same.”
Asked. Bruce snorted. Better ordered and threatened.
“It’s not a great acquisition” he replied.
Talia turned her eyes to the painting and smiled.
“I disagree: the artist is one of the most esteemed and of course there was no
chance father would have left something concerning you out of his grasp. Like
me. You belonged to my father and now to me: you tried to fool your destiny but
you failed: I defeated you.”
Bruce cocked an eyebrow.
“You repeat it as if trying to believe it…”
She shook her head and brought her rich lips close to the corner of Bruce’s
lips.
“Not at all; I know I beat the game and the proof is I have the King.”
Bruce snorted: it was exactly what he wanted. Talia to believe that she was the
winner.
“I never considered myself a King.”
“Of course, you were always the defiant Pawn that ruled the game and overthrew
his Kings… a really fascinating piece…” her lips brushed the corner of his lips
and he jerked his head away.
Talia straightened her torso and looked menacingly at Bruce who just stared
back without any fear.
“Don’t force me to put you on a lead!”
Bruce smiled.
“I didn’t know that someone can force you do anything…” he snorted and the
emerald stars in his irises sparkled challenging Talia’s black agates.
She bit her lip.
“Of course not but I prefer that beautiful neck naked” she shrugged. “On the
other hand, you’re my slave, with or without a leash.”
Bruce’s eyes flashed.
“I’m not your slave!” he spat. “You may hold me captive; you may torture and
kill me to avenge your father but I definitely am not your slave. And I’ll
never be.”
Talia chuckled and shook her head.
“Oh, Bruce…When in your life you were given a choice?”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed.
“Your father’s story didn’t teach you anything?”
She nodded.
“It did: to not repeat his mistakes. He tried to bend and enslave your spirit
and iron will by bending and enslaving your body. Which was…” she shook her
head and stood. “Unbelievable for a man as intelligent as my father. Enslaving
the body?” she stared at Bruce’s tucked in soft blankets body. “That’s easy:
I’ve already controlled your body – it took only two bullets. But your mind?”
her fascinated eyes locked with Bruce’s. “That’s the key point! I’ll win your
mind and make it work only to serve and satisfy me! This time your whole
existence will be devoted to the League and me: you’ll live, think, breath and
fight for your mistress, this time” she lolled her head to the side and cocked
her eyebrows “with your own will: your willpower this time will crave for the
League’s prevail and my indulgence.”
He looked at her as if pitying her and then shook slowly his head.
“That will never happen.”
Talia laughed.
“My dear Bruce, father left your mind untampered: he admired your spirit and
your defiance – it magnified the pleasure he was getting from you. He believed
that with threats, humiliation and tortures would tame your brilliant mind into
submitting to him with your own will. I’m not so naïve; I’ll tamper with your
mind to keep all of your brilliant personality traits and skills minus your
detest for us: we’ll change everything you remember and know into turning your
allegiance to us. The League will be your home and I your family and your one
and only beloved. And you will lead my army of special men and women to the
victory.”
Bruce felt a shiver crossing his back but his eyes were unfazed and determined.
“Crane” he said and Talia nodded smiling.
“Exactly” she opened her arms “you know about his experiments and his talent in
creating psychotropic drugs. You are his most ambitious project and believe me:
he is thrilled to start and succeed.”
Bruce pressed his lips.
“He and you won’t succeed anything; I’d rather be left with an incapacitated
brain than being your slave or your robot general.”
Talia felt a flame warming her chest and it wasn’t just anger from that
beautiful defiance. Oh, how she understood now her father’s passion for that
man! He was so thrillingly stubborn…But she was too!
She yanked her head and clenched her teeth.
“Then instead of a proud warrior you’ll be a mentally retarded whore who will
satisfy my men’s needs day and night! And your loved ones will have the chance
to watch because I’ll give them access to a camera in your cage! The first bat
to live in a cage!”
Bruce was sure that that woman never showed any anger or emotion to the others
so it was a victory making her snap like a spoiled brat.
“No proud warrior would ever fight your dirty wars. And maybe the other option
you offer is more decent than the first.”
Talia shook her head realizing that she had just slipped in a rant and that her
captive still sustained his self control though completely left at her mercy.
“There’s no second option! Crane!”
A pair of light feet approached the door that the guard opened for the lean
doctor to enter the room. He was holding a huge case that was curious how he
managed to carry.
 
Chapter End Notes
     Pauvre bébé= Poor baby.
     Merde= Shit.
     C’est vraiment des conneries!= This is bullshit.
     Mon cher= My dear.
     Mon ami= My friend.
     mon petit= My little.
     Mon ange= My angel.
     savoureux garçon= Tasty boy.
     Le Paradis est rempli d'anges= Paradise is full with angels.
     Je suis sans voix= I'm speechless.
     Mon Dieu= My God.
***** Chapter 66 *****
“Is Master Bruce here? Is he unconscious? Is he alright?”
Alfred’s familiar voice with a totally unfamiliar desperate tone escaped the
walls of his room as Tony and Pepper crossed the corridor. Leslie tried to calm
him but to no avail. Tony opened the door sighing and saw Alfred thrashing on
the mattress, his hand in a sling and his hair shockingly unkept. But the man
didn’t give a damn about that; his eyes blank and panicked still seeing the
last night’s events.
“Alfred, if you don’t calm down, I’m gonna sedate you again!” Leslie raised her
voice determined pressing softly her friend to the mattress.
“It’s so bloody difficult to give me a bloody answer?!”
Alfred using ‘bloody’ two times in a sentence was revealing and Tony pressed
his lips wishing he had good news for him.
Alfred turned to the newcomers his eyes sparkling with a new hope.
“Master Anthony, Miss Potts…”
Tony hurried to shake Alfred’s hand, pushing his lips to form a tight smile.
“We’re here, Alfred, calm down. Please…” he was really distraught seeing
Alfred’s eyes so sad realizing how the man was feeling having witnessed once
again Bruce being dragged away from him; abandoned - as Alfred believed - by
him, the only adult caregiver Bruce was left after his parents’ murders.
“Where’s Bruce, Master Anthony?”
The agony in his voice broke Tony’s heart and Pepper hastened to hold Alfred’s
uninjured hand.
“Alfred, for goodness’ sake; lie down and I’ll tell you everything.”
Alfred seemed to get back his self control, drew a deep breath and laid his
back on the big pillow Leslie had set for him.
Tony nodded and sat down as well.
“They took Bruce, Alfred” he chose to be honest with him.
“Good God!” he exclaimed and closed his eyes but he seemed a bit calmer at
least knowing the truth. “You had a tracking implant, Master Anthony and...and
Master Bruce wore his camera eye lenses: you must have some input?”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose; he just couldn’t tell the poor man that
there was a possibility Bruce was shot on the nape of his neck.
“It seems that the implant broke down during the fight, his father’s wrist
watch was tossed in the area and” he twisted his lips “they found out about the
lenses and removed them.”
Alfred frowned; he didn’t believe that one of Master Anthony’s creations would
be so fragile to break down during a fight; especially, when this gadget was
meant to save the life of Master Anthony’s best friend.
“He is injured, right?” he asked but this time his voice was firm and strict
demanding an honest answer. “They shot him in the neck to subdue him” he said
it with such strength that Leslie looked at Tony.
“We can’t be sure, Alfred...though” he didn’t want to lie to the man. “We found
drops of Bruce’s blood…”
Alfred closed his eyes but he had regained his composure.
“Because of me…” he shook his head. “Master Bruce and Miss Kyle would have
defeated them or hold them until Superman arrived but Master Bruce asked Miss
Kyle to take me and leave; to save me…he put my life above his…Why on Earth,
Master Bruce?”
Leslie huffed and hugged her sides.
“You were heavily bleeding, Alfred: I don’t know how much more you’d have
lasted without treatment or what could have happened to you if you had stayed
more there. I know how you feel but Bruce’s decision was right.”
Alfred snapped.
“My life isn’t worth more than his! He has already suffered too much to be
again in this position…” he lowered his tone regaining some of his self
control. “I should have known; I shouldn’t have left… I’m an idiot!”
Tony frowned: he had forgotten this.
“Every human life has the same worth, Alfred: you were teaching us that,
remember?” he pursed his lips and cocked his eyebrows. “Bruce has organized
things so perfectly that we’ll smash those motherfuckers and get him back and
he’ll find his favorite butler safe and sound waiting to spoil him” he winked.
Alfred blinked to cover the moisture in his eyes and Leslie patted his
shoulder.
“What happened, Alfred?” Pepper asked the question Tony wanted to ask but
hesitated. She as the other person they used as leverage could understand
Alfred’s feelings.
Alfred looked at her kindly.
“Someone called supposedly from the clinic and told me that Leslie had been
attacked and was heavily injured.”
Leslie’s eyes bulged and she gasped.
“Sonovabitch! Why you didn’t call me? You surely didn’t go for that immediately
– it surely crossed your mind that it was an attempt to lure you away from
safety.”
Alfred nodded.
“Of course. I called you in your smartphone but you didn’t answer; I called to
your home to no avail and then I called the clinic and the one who answered
told me that you were in surgery and you’ll need blood so” he inhaled deeply.
“I took the Lancia, the emergency car for the times we want to pass unnoticed
and I left from the back side of the Manor” he shook his head, biting his lips.
“They attacked the car soon after: they couldn’t get inside the Grounds or
watch the Manor from too close but” he huffed “they were watching the roads…”
Tony shook his head, his lips pressed.
“They certainly couldn’t mess with the phones inside the Manor but they watched
the calls to the clinic and Leslie’s smartphone diverting Alfred’s call to
their phone… Daggett’s telecommunication company…Fuck!” he clenched his face
but now it wasn’t the time to think what went wrong. “It doesn’t matter,
Alfred, we’ll take Bruce back.”
Alfred was struggling to put on a brave face yet his agony and guilt were
shadowing his face: he couldn’t forget his young master’s wild, determined face
when yelled to Miss Kyle.
“He’s bleeding, for goodness’ sake! Take him and go!”
My good boy… A sob blocked his throat. Though last night Bruce’s eyes were
powerful, resolute and fearless Alfred couldn’t help seeing that 8 year old kid
who trembled uncontrollably, drenched in blood, in excruciating pain and
despair having just witnessed his parents’ murders and being shot himself; he
couldn’t help but seeing two fearful eyes, confused and begging for help as
Chill dragged him away from his home.
Alfred brought his uninjured hand to his face, inhaling to control his
emotions; Pepper brushed his upper arm, her eyes tearful.
“He’ll be alright, Alfred; Bruce is so strong and he’ll come out of this
triumphant and then nobody will threaten him again.”
Alfred smiled to her.
“Thank you, Miss Potts: you’re so kind. And they certainly won’t kill him…” he
said without being able to be entirely happy for that. “That woman who shot me
and held me kept telling me with creepy reassurance that she didn’t want to
harm Bruce and that he’ll be in good hands. She actually wanted me to assist
her so Bruce didn’t hurt himself in his effort to resist and fight his
destiny…” he shook his head. “She is insane and obsessed as Ra’s Al Ghul: she
watched fascinated Bruce fighting against her warriors and kept telling me that
once Bruce becomes her loyal warrior I’d enjoy with him her favor …”
Tony rolled his eyes and yanked his head, his arms crossed.
“Actually, she is Al Ghul’s daughter…And Bruce would never work for her; I’m
sure the fact you’re out of her grasp is a great relief for him; the thought of
you free and among us gives strength to him…”
Alfred pressed his lips and gulped but his voice came out poised.
“She seemed too confident, Master Anthony; like she had everything prepared.”
Tony ran his hands in his hair.
“Whatever this evil bitch has prepared won’t work: she doesn’t know Bruce and
doesn’t even imagine that we know about S.H.I.E.L.D. and her doom is near. She
believes that has won yet in fact her temporary success is Bruce’s diversion.”
Alfred nodded and Leslie arched an eyebrow.
“You’d better bring Bruce back ASAP” she said warningly to Tony. “I don’t want
them tampering with our boy – a cruel doctor in his life is enough – and I
don’t want them deteriorate his condition.”
Tony raised his eyes to her.
“Nobody wants that, Leslie.”
Leslie crossed her arms and set her jaw.
“Then what are you still doing here, young man?!” she asked strictly. “Go find
Superman and do something already!”
Tony jumped on his feet.
“You don’t have to tell it twice.”
Alfred followed Tony with his eyes.
“How’s Superman?”
Tony turned his head to Alfred.
“Deep in guilt for not being able to reach Bruce in time; he roams the States
again and again searching for him and I stopped him before crushing Luthor’s
head – not that the scum doesn’t deserve it!”
The butler shook his head; he could read Master Kent’s love for his Bruce in
his face, his eyes, his body, even in the way he was breathing when near Master
Bruce. He must be desperate for losing him and devastated for not being able to
help. He felt for the young man who maybe was in worse condition than him.
“Where is Miss Kyle?” he was searching for her all this time, waiting her to
come in and not seeing her created new fears. “Maybe she was injured too?” his
eyes widened.
“No; from the little I saw her, she was fine…at least physically” Leslie
answered.
“We don’t know where she is” Tony said gloom. “She didn’t contact us; I’m sure
she is looking for Bruce using her own methods.”
Alfred’s memories of last night gradually restored in the fullest and he
remembered how the youth was shaking holding him steady in the bike; he could
hear her teeth gritting without managing to keep the sobs out of her
desperately enraged voice.
“Where are you, Superman?! Bruce needs you!”
She trembled from her anger for having to leave Bruce; and now she surely
swallowed her despair and sadness, clenching her jaw and searched for her lost
brother. From their first meeting seventeen years ago Selina had never
abandoned Bruce…
“Poor girl…” he mumbled.
The innercom beeped and Tony stopped on his heels to hear.
“Okay, Maria; send them” Leslie hanged up and turned to the others. “Jim Gordon
is here to take Alfred’s testimony.”
Tony nodded to Alfred who had totally regained his usual composed demeanor.
“Tell them that Batman fought with them and tried to save Bruce - Selina had
thrown batarangs to the field to indicate his presence there. Tell them the
truth: that the mysterious woman took you away before you could see what
happened.”
Alfred smiled still a bit restrained and winked.
“Despite the fact Leslie here drugged me I can handle it, sir.”
Tony nodded to him, grinning.
“Definitely you can, old man.”
 
Clark was chatting with a police officer outside the MCU when as he turned to
leave found himself face to face with Lois whose eyes widened seeing him in
that state: unshaven, with black bags under his eyes; his paleness was shocking
and although untill recently she didn’t know that Clark was Superman and not a
mere human now it was striking how human he seemed. Lois realized that in the
many years of their friendship she never saw Clark so worn down - except when
his father died.
She grabbed his upper arm and dragged him in a corner cafe where they sat in a
secluded booth.
“You could have said a ‘morning’...” he commented grudgingly.
Lois rolled her eyes.
“A morning? Not even a ‘good morning’?”
“It’s not good.”
Lois sighed and turned her eyes to the waitress.
“Two espresso, the strongest you have” she watched her leaving and gritted her
teeth to Clark. “I’d have slapped you” she lowered her voice to not be heard by
the few customers in the register “but I don’t want my hand broken! Have you
seen yourself?!”
Clark pressed his hair on his sculp.
“I had no interest in doing so…” he leaned towards her. “What are you doing
here, Lois?”
She crossed her arms and glared at him.
“You never answered my calls and I was worried - and I was right! So I
persuaded Perry that the developments in Gotham need two reporters and here I
am.”
Clark smiled without heart.
“And Perry was convinced?”
Lois shook her head.
“He trusts my instinct and brains.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
The waitress brought their order and left.
“C’me on, farmboy… I read your newest article and I imagined you’ll be at the
Tower and when I didn’t find you there, I guessed that as a devoted reporter
you’d be at the MCU trying to extract info about Joker or Bruce’s kidnapping -
by the way, congratulations on the hit-exclusive: did you eavesdrop again?” she
narrowed her eyes.
Clark sipped his coffee enjoying the strong taste that sent energy to his tired
brain.
“No; I had an insider…”
“Hmm...Clark and his connections...Awesome move while there were whispers that
Luthor and Daggett was ready to overthrow him. Well, your Prince is a star,
huh?”
Clark jerked on that word as if a Kryptonite knife stabbed him. His Star…
“How did he manage to predict the downfall of LEXCORP and acquire most of the
shares on sale?”
Clark shrugged. Honestly, although he should be happy for Luthor’s disaster he
couldn’t - actually, Bruce’s success that right now made bigger headlines than
his kidnapping left him indifferent. He sensed Bruce in pain, in distress and
then in peace and he knew that they had already begun torture him - he could
sense him but not hear his breath or heartbeat neither locate him…
Lois noticed how his stare was lost somewhere else and understood.
“Did you have any news? Did they contact Stark for ransom?” she inquired
sympathetically.
Clark shook his head.
“They aren’t common mobsters, Lois and no, they didn’t contact Stark. I
searched the entire States and then inch by inch the entire Adirondack
Mountains’ area where they landed after they took Bruce...but I couldn’t find
anything.”
Lois cupped his hand on the table and locked her warm eyes with his bloodshot
ones.
“My sources say that it’s the same gang that killed the three crimelords;
they’re really powerful, huh?” she whispered.
Clark pressed his lips and avoided her stare which for Lois was a hesitation
mark.
“You know something but you don’t want to tell because it must remain secret at
least for the time being - otherwise you would have published it” she brushed
his forearm. “You know you can trust me, Smallville: I would never do something
endangering Bruce or you...Off the record, Clark: who took Bruce?”
Clark brought his hand on the temple.
“The League of Shadows” he replied with a huff.
Lois looked awed but immediately her eyes flashed.
“That explains why you can’t find them: they have the means and the knowledge
to block your super senses – you know that the Adirondack Mountains are rich in
lead deposits? But...Why they took Bruce?”
Right...Clark swallowed: there was that.
“The League has Gotham in its target so I suppose they kidnapped Gotham’s
Prince to enhance the panic and give greater impression to what they plan to do
to the city.”
Lois rubbed her forehead.
“Oh, my! Have you spoken to Batman since last night? They say that he tried to
save Bruce with a woman but they failed and that Alfred was there too, injured.
Maybe Batman got hit too and for that he didn’t manage to stop them?”
Clark shrugged.
“I haven’t seen the man - not that it’s the easiest thing...But I had more
important things to care about: if he wants anything, I’m sure he’ll find me.”
Lois nodded and sipped her coffee, tapping her fingers on the table.
“It must have been traumatic for Bruce being attacked first by Luthor and then
by these barbarians...and on the moment the poor thing began getting over his
nightmares...with you…”
She jolted on her feet and hugged him, rubbing his back soothingly.
“I’m sorry, Clark...But you know, he’s a tough nut and you’ll find him...As a
matter of fact…” she held his upper arms and locked her eyes with his. “I’m
here to cover you: you don’t have to worry about the Planet; I’ll write the
articles and sign them with your name. That way you’d be free to search for
Bruce and kick their sorry asses.”
Clark stared at her dumbfounded: though he knew her for years, Lois always
managed to surprise him.
“And you’ll make it?”
Lois lolled her head and smirked.
“Please...I know your writing style perfectly - I can easily copy it…”
Clark frowned; he wasn’t sure if that was good but it suited him.
“Well…thank you…I guess.”
Lois pushed him.
“Go! Bruce needs you…”
He smiled and turned to leave but Lois touched his upper arm and Clark looked
at her.
“Wash your face and shave...You don’t want to give them the satisfaction.”
His eyes flashed.
“Actually, I want: I want them to consider me weak and beaten.”
Lois’ eyes sparkled with realization.
“Of course! The League of Shadows was that applied the substance in Bruce’s
body to weaken and kill you...Bastards!”
Clark nodded.
“Exactly! And as the hours pass I wish I hadn’t healed so that the addiction
was still strong and my body drew me to Bruce.”
Lois pressed her lips.
“You know that Bruce didn’t want that; besides, you will find him without that
sick addiction and you will be almighty when you find them and show them to not
mess with you. Go now, big guy, go…”
She sighed watching him leave the place; Bruce surely had captured Superman’s
body, mind and heart and that was a blessing and a curse since that horrible
group of terrorists wanted to use him to bend the hero and it was unfair for
Bruce that people just didn’t let him at last rest and for Clark who was so
violently bereft of the man he finally managed to bring to his arms.
 
Bane followed Crane into the room.
Bruce was perfectly calm realizing that there won’t be any procrastination to
Talia’s plans; the lady of the Shadows was watching him and now that Crane was
watching too Bruce widened his eyes in fear.
“I…I don’t understand…” his eyes went fleetingly from the grinning Talia to the
smug Crane.
Talia crossed her arms deciding to participate in the performance for Crane.
She smiled sweetly and batted her eyelids.
“But you will, sweetheart…”
Crane in the meantime had placed the case on the bench that was wall-
length opposite the bed and opened it to begin preparing his stuff; Bruce
frowned internally seeing a strange metallic square box with openings that
reminded of a mask and of course the different kind of needles and multicolored
liquids in bubble shaped vials that Crane adjusted to the needles.
Talia with a triumphant sparkle in her eyes approached slowly on the side of
Bruce’s head, squatted and brought her lips to his ear.
“He is very organized in his paranoid genious but don’t be scared: he knows
that if you die during his ministrations or suffer a permanent mental damage
he’ll pay with his life so Crane will be extra careful” she whispered
delightful. “He might be paranoid but when his interest is at stake he’s
completely sane. You could have played along but I’m afraid that still I
wouldn’t have trusted you” she almost touched her lips to Bruce’s ear “I know
that only with a radical shakeup of your mind your obedience will be real and
not a facade as with my father” her voice became sensual and Bruce calmly took
away his head.
“You’re wasting your time…” he whispered too piercing her with his steely
stare.
“A battle with you, especially, when the outcome will be victorious, is never a
waste of time…” she said with narrowed, glistening eyes.
Bruce’s eyes were full with confident and unbent determination.
“I’ll never become your slave or warrior” he said simply.
“We’ll see about that, pet…”
She smirked thrilled and stood, her eyes unwilling to part with her captive’s
eyes and Bane’s spine was run by a freezing wave of bitter jealousy: he wasn’t
a fool – he knew what that fascinated stare meant…Talia rarely had that look in
her eyes. He yanked his head.
Crane had prepared his syringe and waited Talia to gesture for him to approach.
Bruce’s eyes widened panicked seeing the syringe in Crane’s hands, the doctor’s
eyes glimmering manic in perfect obsession. The needle’s point touched his neck
and Bruce jerked away causing Crane’s frustration that hid behind a gleeful
smirk that struggled to present as benevolent. Which was a rather lame effort
since Bruce could see the sadistic eagerness boiling inside him.
Crane sat on the mattress and leaned towards Bruce.
“Mr. Wayne, don’t be a stubborn brat” his eyebrows arched and his stare became
sarcastic “I didn’t expect that from Falcone’s highly trained little puppy.”
Bruce didn’t turn his head to acknowledge him but closed his eyes and gasped
hearing Falcone’s name causing Talia’s amused rolling of eyes.
“We don’t want to use force but if you continue struggling the unavoidable the
nice guy here” he glanced at Bane “would make sure that you’ll comply without
harming yourself - needles are very sharp, you know” he said patronizingly and
Bruce felt a wave of nausea.
Crane made to touch Bruce’s neck and he jerked away causing the frustrated
reaction of the doctor who gritted his teeth and held his hand on the air.
“As you wish…”
He left the bed and immediately Bane rushed to fist Bruce’s hair immobilizing
him and keeping his neck stretched for Crane. Bruce clenched his jaw as Crane’s
syringe came again close; however he couldn’t struggle too much because first
he didn’t want Crane to suspect his true strength and second Bane’s grip was
such that already cut much of the blood flow to his brain and his head screamed
in protest.
Crane instead of making the injection took advantage of Bane’s intervention and
lifted Bruce’s eyelid to examine his orb. His stare was exactly as a common
doctor’s caring about his patient, but Bruce knew better and bit his lip.
Talia frowned watching carefully Crane’s move.
“You’re recovering from a severe concussion, Mr. Wayne, right?” he touched the
bruises on his forehead and registered the sticking plasters on his cheeks; his
patient’s lips were busted as well. “It seems that your owner began enjoying
herself and roughed you up deteriorating your condition” Talia’s eyes jolted
angrily and upset on that and Crane sensing turned to her, smirking. “His life
isn’t in danger; on the contrary, I’ll give him the proper medication to
stabilize his condition but his concussion suits fine our purposes.”
Bruce’s eyes flashed no way as Talia stared at him grinning gleeful.
“I still want him to take the medication his doctor prescribed him” Talia said
flatly. “I trust more her than you in keeping him alive: you just focus on your
job.”
Crane shrugged smiling and turned back to Bruce who started feeling his hair
uprooting from Bane’s grip. The doctor drenched a piece of cotton in alcohol,
brushed Bruce’s neck with it and pierced the flesh emptying the liquid that
stinged.
“You can let him now” Crane said to Bane who seemed reluctant to let go.
Bruce’s eyes under Crane’s scrutiny widened in terror as his head became
totally numb and he felt his facial muscles stretch into keeping his eyelids
still and his orbs exposed; gradually but rapidly even his irises couldn’t
move. He knew that Crane’s ‘treatment’ began.
The lean doctor patted Bruce’s shoulder and rose walking to the bench to bring
the weird square metallic box; Bruce couldn’t move his eyes to watch but now
the doctor was in his field of vision; even his breath was slower than normal.
“It’s for your own good, Mr. Wayne” Crane grinned. “I don’t usually use that
anaisthesia with my patients but your Mistress cares so much for your
convenience that insisted on using some means of relief” he snorted. “Of
course, it might be that she doesn’t want any damage to your eyes…”
Bruce couldn’t move his eyebrows even to frown but he still could see Talia’s
icy eyes glaring at the sneering doctor.
“Your eyes are in greater danger if you fail…” she said without anger or threat
and Bruce realized that this had bigger impact than if she had yelled.
And then Crane pressed something on the mask-cube and it opened: the curves for
the eyes, the nose, and the mouth sending shivers to Bruce’s spine that however
didn’t damage his calmness: after all, he was used to horrors and he expected
nothing better from the League of Shadows and someone who experimented in
mentaly vulnerable people.
“The concussion and your post traumatic stress disorder will make things faster
and easier; your mind won’t be difficult to breach” Crane bragged as he closed
Bruce’s head inside the metallic box and returned to the bench to bring his
utensils.
Bruce felt the migraine piercing more angrily his head enhanced by the drug
Crane used to immobilize him and by the difficulties he faced keeping breathing
normally while his head except from the eyes and two tiny holes for his
nostrils was enclosed to a box smelling heavily of metal and some other
substance Crane included on purpose; also, his tongue was trapped between two
metalic plaques, obviously prohibiting him from biting the tongue.
Nausea bit him hard but he willed his heart to keep beating calmly… Thankfully,
Batman’s mask wasn’t exactly comfy so he wasn’t completely unused to
confinement; he could just imagine how that must have panicked Crane’s
patients.
But what Crane held as he returned to him surely it was more horrifying: an
assortment of needles connected with small bubbles filled with liquids of
different colors. Talia watched eagerly Bruce’s eyes for any tiny sign but she
didn’t get anything. And that thrilled her more.
Crane left the needles on the nightstand and took one that was thin as a thread
with a bubble with green liquid on the top.
Bruce watched unable to move to resist the doctor bringing the needle over his
right eye; he felt his eyelids tremble weakly in the reflective urge to protect
the orb from a foreign object but they couldn’t move. The thread-thin, nine
inches long metal began twirling like a dril and invaded the center of his
iris; however he didn’t feel the expected pain only a discomfort. Crane kept
lowering the needle until Bruce was sure that it reached his cerebral cortex.
Then Crane stopped the drilling movement, left it there and took an identical
needle with the same bubble of green liquid following the same procedure with
Bruce’s left eye. Bruce’s headache became worse than anything he had
experienced till then and his eyes watered without that deterring Crane who
left the second needle and grabbed three different needles equally lengthy but
thicker and with orange liquid in their bubbles.
Bruce realized that Crane was placing the needles in special openings left on
the mask over his forehead where the sharp metal wouldn’t meet the resistance
from the bone to invade his prefrontal lobe. He felt an involuntary tremor in
his body that was enhanced by the hissing sound of the needles’ drilling and
was worried that he might experience a seizure.
Which worry - if such a word could be used for her - was visible on Talia’s
steel eyes.
However, Crane touched his fingers on Bruce’s neck taking his pulse and
smirked.
“Your heart is a bit arrhythmic, huh? Yet you won’t have a seizure.”
Bane turned his eyes on Talia gleeful because he was right about Bruce being
defective but she answered with a glare.
Crane continued by settling two other needles with blue liquid in the holes
over Bruce’s temples.
Bruce calmed again his trembling heart as Crane pressed lightly the bubbles of
each needle sending the different liquids to enter slowly his brain. It was
unnerving feeling every drop of liquid reaching the different parts of his
cortex causing new crashing waves of pain to hit his skull.
He had to tolerate that too, he kept repeating, because he didn’t know how much
more he would be able to have a conscious control of his mind.
You must tolerate it. You know they’ll try to change your memories, your
personality, your beliefs: they won’t make it. They just WON’T MAKE IT! Even if
they cut entirely my conscious control, I won’t lose myself.
He wanted to clench his jaw and teeth but he was paralyzed; he was suffocating
yet he managed to control his heart. His eyes were so tired that he wished more
than anything to close them, yet that was impossible; his cognitive functions
were fainting and he could see Talia’s satisfied, glistening eyes enjoying what
she thought was his defeat.
But he wouldn’t let them defeat him...He felt his grip on his mind loosening
and he hurriedly brought Clark’s affectionate eyes to erase Talia’s, the way he
was looking at him during their first time; his joy for at last being able to
touch Bruce mingled with his agony to not hurt him and his eagerness to make
everything perfect, to see Bruce’s joy sparkling in his eyes. And Bruce was
sure that although all his years he was hiding perfectly his emotions from
everyone, this time he managed to overcome his training and let his eyes show
the truth inside him.
But suddenly Clark’s sweet, puppy eyes glimmered evily and the Man of Stell
sniggered. He grasped his wrists and stretched his arms above his head pinning
them on the wall.
“I know ya want it, ya littl’ whore!” it was Clark’s voice but Clark didn’t
speak like that…He pressed his mind to remember who talked like that and he
knew it was easy but the answer evaded him.
And Superman, his eyes red, tore his clothes with his teeth in a rush of
insanely fast movement and now Bruce saw a thick white scar crossing Superman’s
right eye. But Superman can’t be scarred, can he? But he knew this scar
belonged to someone whom he couldn’t remember and he didn’t care to remember as
Superman was thrusting in him as if he wanted to demolish his body from inside:
so fast and so strong that the wall beside him cracked.
He felt blood flowing inside his thighs and he sobbed and then whimpered as if
he was no more than 9 years old; he wasn’t more than 9 years old because his
legs were too short and didn’t reach the ground as Superman pounded him. And
that realization made him turn his tear soaked eyes to see where he was and his
eyes startled recognized the alley behind the Opera House; he closed
desperately his eyes to not see the other thing he knew it was there but
Superman sped up more and the pain made him gasp and open his eyes…
It wasn’t just the police white line where his parents lay dead that night; it
was his parents’ bodies, their eyes horribly bulged and crystallized goggling
at him as Superman grabbed his thighs to spread him more to thrust deeper. The
pain was excruciating but Bruce forgot all about it as his eyes melted in
streams of tears: his father’s and his mother’s eyes sparkled…they were seeing
him…seeing him getting fucked bare naked and with his legs wide spread…They
were glaring at him disapproving, disgusted, disappointed with their son,
angry…and Bruce bit his lip so desperate that it tasted copper.
“The prefrontal lobes are the centers of the higher cognitive skills:
conscience, morals, reason, beliefs: everything that makes a human’s
personality” Crane explained to Talia. “Amygdala and hippocampus are two
neuronic formations deep inside the brain that play the key role to the
formation of new memories and the management of the past memories especially
the emotional content of them. I’m going to intervene there” he grinned
broadly. “Psychopharmachology is a fascinating field with infinite
possibilities: the mixtures I use combine neurotransmitters, hormones and
psychotropic drugs which will create turmoil to your property’s memory.”
Talia raised her eyebrow unimpressed.
“You’re going to cause amnesia?”
Crane snorted; his enthusiasm for speaking about his genious work made him
forget his fear for the young woman.
“Hardly. His memories will remain but in such confused semantic and emotional
condition that he’ll be unsure about what’s true and false. And his emotional
disturbance will be so ruling that he won’t be sure if you’re his – let’s say –
enemy or friend so he’ll refuge to you to explain his chaotic past” he arched
his eyebrows suggestively. “Which suits you perfectly since my elixirs working
at his prefrontal lobe would tamper with his personality traits leaving him as
supple as melt wax: Wayne will be like a newborn child: forming personality and
blurred memories – the perfect material to shape.”
Talia’s eyes became skeptical.
“I made it clear to you that I don’t want his skills altered.”
Crane scowled.
“And they won’t be” he almost rolled his eyes on her ignorance. “Of course I
don’t expect from an inexpert to understand the subtle differences between
skills and personality.”
Talia narrowed her eyes irritated and pierced the shorter man.
“I know the differences, Crane: but his personality is one of his most
important skills – the one that unifies the rest and makes them powerful as
steel. So I don’t want his personality traits damaged.”
Crane huffed.
“And they won’t be damaged! You’ll have his personality BUT also you’ll have
the power to shape and direct it as you want: in his distressing confusion
he’ll trust you blindly.”
Talia glued her palms together and stared at Bruce.
“Your drugs seem dangerous and your sayings indicate dangers for his sanity.”
Crane chuckled.
“As everything able to control the human mind in the hands of an ignorant who
doesn’t know how to handle that power. But I’m an artist in controlling the
human mind and its chemistry: things will go smoothly and steady to not shake
his sanity; the change and the confusion will come with small steps in order to
not devastate his mental structures upon a rapid upset. The changes will occur
so smoothly and so discreet that he won’t be aware of them till the procedure
is over. I have the total control.”
He marched to the bench and took a tablet-looking gadget. He showed it to
Talia; it depicted a brain each of its areas lighted with different colors and
tones from red to black while in the edge of the screen several numbers
indicated Bruce’s vitals.
“The needles settled nano – electrodes that send data from Wayne’s brain which
are translated in vivo through the software into different colors indicating
which areas are functioning and how intensively.’’
She looked at the multicolored brain on the screen and then regarded Crane
nonchalant.
“I know how a PET scan works…” she snapped. “Especially, since I paid for it!”
Crane cleared his throat and Scarecrow looked her sarcastic: all these
ignorants bragging for a speck of knowledge they happened to read in a rag –
pathetic! He closed his eyes to calm his irritation and brushed the pulsing
image magnifying it.
“With red and yellow are the most working areas and with blue and black the
lowest. As you can see his brain’s perception areas are blue maintaining an
awareness of his body even if he is paralysed however exactly because of the
paralysis the brain’s areas concerning the conscious control over the body are
almost black. On the contrary” he brushed again the image of the brain and now
the depiction changed into horizontal 3D section – two spots in the senter of
the brain giving a bright red that made Crane grin. “Amygdala and hippocampus
are in hyperactivity and the prefrontal cortex follows with lower but still
important function.”
Talia pressed her lips thoughtful.
“We don’t know what he experiences and his reactions… And Bruce isn’t stupid: I
don’t know how your patients reacted to your procedure but Bruce won’t be an
easy case.”
Crane smirked confident.
“He might not be stupid - though I doubt it - but his PTSD will make him
believe that what he experiences during our sessions are just nightmares – he
is used to violent flashbacks due to PTSD. Yet these ‘nightmares’ actually act
erosively to his memory. And he might manage to recognize the untrue character
of these memories but not for long since the dose will gradually increase to
eventually losing this awareness as the procedure will continue. And even when
our sessions end and he falls to relieving sleep as he enters the stage of deep
restful sleep nightmares would awake him violently depriving him from rest thus
deteriorating his confusion. Fatigue will make the rest for us” he smiled
evilly looking at his patient.
Talia arched her eyebrows.
“I hope for your own good that you’re right…”
Crane rolled his eyes.
“You must look your fixation to threaten others to achieve things you already
have.”
Talia lolled her head.
“Believe me, doctor: threats are not my only…fixation; I prefer making the
threats reality when the others disappoint me.”
Crane gulped and shook his head.
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
Talia’s lips twitched into a crooked smile and her eyebrows arched.
“No, doctor: you’re the one who have to worry about that.”
As his parents’ glares became even angrier, a sharp devastating pain blew his
head, blinding him with a white, hot light. The alley got lost in the abundance
of light and then all of a sudden the pain from Superman’s thrusts decreased as
a green glow chased away the white painful light. His vision gradually returned
as Superman whined and stopped impaling him. Bruce saw a very tall vague figure
approaching from the alley’s entrance holding a green glowing rock, targeting
Superman; the face of the man became gradually clear and reminded of a lion; he
had a smug expression as regarded the crumbling hero.
Bruce could see that the green rock had black veins that moved like liquid. And
then he was falling as Superman stopped pinning him to the wall. He readied
himself for the impact but something strong and gentle held him and he saw the
man’s grey eyes filled with compassion.
“Nobody is going to hurt you, child; I’m here for you now.”
And Bruce felt all the pain vanishing and warmth settling in his body and
heart; he nestled his head to the man’s broad powerful chest enjoying the
confidence and security emanating from him, his eyelids covered his eyes and he
cried for finding at last a safe place to snuggle: the lion-like man’s hug.
But then he heard Superman sobbing and it was like a kicked small puppy and
Bruce felt his heart melting; he opened his eyes and hesitantly looked at the
fallen man and Superman’s eyes locked with his and there was so much love,
unconditioned love and Bruce felt the flash of the realization: Superman would
never hurt him; he’d never rape him and the lion-like man was a fraud. Ra’s Al
Ghul pretended to save him just to use him himself, to take advantage of him in
every possible way.
He kicked away from the man’s arms and stood in his feet, and he wasn’t a kid
anymore but a man. He fell on his knees and cuddled Superman rubbing his back
soothingly.
“It’s all a lie; they’re messing with my head but I know you love me
and...I...I love you too and they won’t manage to change my emotions…”
Superman raised his eyes tired, acknowledged him, smiled and wrapped him in his
arms, jolting erect as if he had never been exposed to Kryptonite and Bruce
felt a jolt in his stomach and he was flying in the same sick white light.
Superman’s arms began clenching him painfully as if he wanted to smash his
bones and Bruce looked at him shocked. The Man of Steel was grinning.
“What are you doing?” Bruce yelled at him narrowing his eyes.
And then everything was twisting like they were carried away by a tornado and
Bruce knew he was alone again...falling...and falling until he was on his knees
inside an enormous house mopping the glistening surface. He knew that place: it
was the great salon at the Manor’s ground floor exactly as he remembered it
before Falcone kidnapped him.
“You are not allowed to faff about, kid!”
He knew that glorious British accent but he had difficulty to understand; he
raised his eyes and he was awestruck to see Alfred’s kind face distorted in
wrath and his baby blues flashing with irritation.
“Stop screwing around and mop the floor or else your father would teach you
obedience!”
Bruce frowned; his eyes in disbelief but his heart sank in a deep sorrow and
despair as if he didn’t know that this was a creation of his drugged, tired
mind. But he wanted to cry - he already felt the tears streaming - because
Alfred spoke to him like that, because the butler’s eyes were so cruel and icy
and didn’t radiate love and caring. And because he threatened him to be
punished by his father…
His father punished him sometimes but not because he didn’t mop the floor and
not in the way Alfred’s voice promised.
Heavy footsteps echoed in the vast space and Bruce could discern two different
pairs of feet one of them his father’s and the other...no...that was
impossible! Both men stood before him and he lowered his eyes feeling the
coldness of cruel eyes; he didn’t want to see his father looking at him like
this even in a lie.
But a hand he knew too well though he had it with him only for eight years
grabbed his chin and yanked violently his head and Bruce saw his father’s blue
eyes still, icy cold and mean savoring the tears that flowed from his.
“No, daddy…” he whispered as he recognized the man with his father and his
voice was muffled by sobs.
Bruce’s heart was beating hard drumming in his ears and his head was throbbing
to smash the bones.  He was aware that this wasn’t true but all this drumming,
all this exhausting pain, the dizziness, the mist made it too demanding keeping
the limits between reality and hallucination. The worst was that he felt like
he was indeed that little boy and his father was exactly as he remembered him
externally so maybe...
Falcone nodded to Thomas and his father tightened his grip around his chin and
heaved him to throw him at Falcone’s feet.
“He’s all yours…” Thomas said indifferently and Falcone hastened to jerk open
the weathered filthy shirt Bruce was wearing, stripping his torso.
“Mmm…” Falcone said appreciatively. “I’m gonna enjoy yar gift!”
Thomas arched an eyebrow and Bruce looked at him desperately.
“I’m sure you will: I did for eight years but now I’m bored so I’ll share with
my friend...And for the control over Narrows…” he sniggered. “Little Bruce
doesn’t worth as much…”
Falcone smirked.
“Maybe Martha opposes?”
Thomas shrugged.
“I’ll get her a new maid…”
Falcone erupted in his croaky laughter and clenched Bruce’s upper arm dragging
him along to the Manor’s exit, Alfred leading the way. Bruce struggled, trying
to resist Falcone stilling his feet on the glistening surface.
Falcone gritted his teeth and slapped him in the face.
“I’ll teach ya manners, ya cretino! I’ll put ya in a cage for ya rest of yar
pathetic life, littl’ shit!”
“Daddy!” Bruce screamed. “Don’t let him!” but his father was staring at him
apathetic, smirking with satisfaction.
Falcone fisted his hair and started drugging him again, Alfred opening the door
for him.
“Please, dad!” he screamed. “He’ll torture me!” he whimpered. “Don’t give me to
him: I’ll be a good boy…” his voice was losing its power as Falcone stepped out
and began descending the stairs, dragging Bruce’s body which hit on the stones.
Alfred smirked satisfied and closed the door.
“No!” Bruce yelled and sobbed but then he scowled at the scene and shook his
head.
“Bullshit! My father would never befriend Falcone and give me to him” he said
to himself. “This is ridiculous; Crane’s drugs just messing with my past.”
But then a sudden shooting pain burst his head open and everything dissolved,
his mind shutting exhausted.
 
“Jarvis, I want you to monitor constantly the drones’ and the satellite’s
feeding and keep me updated” Tony said to the com system that was adjusted to
his ear.
“As you wish, sir” the AI answered.
Tony pressed some buttons on the remote in the bench and several mini robots
continued with the last adjustments to his brand new suit which stood erect and
he couldn’t marvel because his attention was on the world map with
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s/ League’s hideouts: Bruce had even indicated the crucial points
from where the attack should start: an attack at all fronts at once with
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s agents out of the way which was Fury’s task.
If only they found and rescued Bruce before the attack… But Bruce Banner
informed him that he searched the data in his prototype jet and there was
nothing indicating where they could be hiding.
He readied the electronic files with the data on the League’s weapons to be
sent immediately after Batman’s alert to Fury; his stare was resolute and
angry: they will smash them for everything they did or are doing to Bruce…Damn!
His concentration once again slipped: he wished he was their prisoner instead
because he had more trust to Bruce to keep his cool and save him…He may be a
genius but he had no problem to admit that controlling his emotions into using
them in his favor wasn’t his strongest point and that could risk his
intelligence during crisis. Which…well, wasn’t the case with Bruce.
He was at the Wayne Tower’s basement in his lab which was located in a very
secluded section and that suited him perfectly.
A whoosing sound and a blur startled him and before he even formed the
impression to his mind Superman stood in front of him with the same lame
appearance as Clark Kent despite the flashing red and blue uniform – not that
anyone would do the connection.
“You’re a mess” Tony greeted regarding him with one eyebrow arched.
“Thanks” he answered sarcastic.
Tony scratched his head.
“Maybe you should shave?” he made a suggestive gesture to his own face.
Superman moved towards the working bench and looked at the open holographic
screens with the data and the maps about the League memorizing them.
“Bruce wanted me to give them the impression that I’m still weak and desperate;
that the addiction is still active.”
“While it’s not?” Tony asked with an eyebrow raised and Superman cast him a
glare.
“I contacted a man at Central City to assist us with the search” Tony frowned;
though he wasn’t secretive and coy as Bruce he didn’t want strangers involved
in this sensitive case. “I had heard rumors of a man who is as fast as me”
Clark answered Tony’s expression. “They call him Flash and fights crime and...I
don’t want the search stopping while I’m occupied with other things.”
Tony crossed his arms and nodded…
“Your daily job, I understand.”
Superman shook his head, his eyes sparkling with a new energy that Tony had
been afraid that got lost along with Bruce.
“Lois came to Gotham and took this over, she will cover for me. Anyway, Flash
knew already the case and was glad to contribute to the search...and I’m
thinking that we can count on him for the ultimate confrontation.”
Tony pressed his lips.
“I don’t want to be Batman in Batman’s place but...do you trust him? The
situation needs caution.”
Superman brought his hands on his waist and nodded.
“As Clark Kent I have already made my research on him; he is one of us and can
be trusted.”
Tony shrugged.
“Fine. I have already placed hundreds of drones in the area of the Adirondack
Mountains and my satellite is focused there monitoring everything; Jarvis
supervises the data. If they’re still there, we’ll catch something.”
Superman’s tired eyes shone.
“Right. And while you deal with the Avengers for the attack, I’ll patrol
Gotham: Bruce wouldn’t want his city left unprotected especially now with Joker
on the loose. And given that Joker knows Luthor’s involvement in Bruce’s
kidnapping we know that he’ll want to punish Luthor. Actually, I have
intelligence that Jim enhanced MCU’s security.”
“And that will stop Joker?” Tony widened his eyes snorting. “MCU is like
Joker’s second house: he comes and goes whenever he wants.”
“I know but Luthor would be secretly transferred to Blackgate in the meantime
while Joker will focus his efforts on MCU. And I’ll be watching both the MCU
and the transfer.”
Tony rubbed his goatee.
“I’m not sure if I want to thwart Joker in getting Luthor…” he drawled
frowning.
Superman pursed his lips and rubbed his forehead.
“I know…” he sighed. “But Bruce wouldn’t want that…”
Tony nodded.
“It’ll be odd if Superman is seen patrolling Gotham while Batman isn’t declared
injured or disappeared...It’s hard to make the connection yet with Fury
watching or…” he jolted his hands on the air “I don’t know who else - it’s
risky.”
Superman licked his lips.
“Then Batman will patrol Gotham!”
Tony’s eyes widened.
“You’ll don the cape and cowl?”
The taller man nodded and the billionaire twisted his lips estimating.
“You’re taller and broader than him…”
Superman lolled his head on the side frustrated.
“Bruce always uses darkness and mist and smoke to make his appearance scarier
and mystic: I doubt if anyone has noticed the exact size of Batman - they are
busy running or counting their broken bones! I’ll stay mostly in the shadows
and do things discreetly. As for the armor, Lucius will help me with that. So
we’ll both dismiss any suspicion on Batman’s true identity and bust Joker.”
Tony leaned on his screens, his eyes thoughtful.
“Joker isn’t stupid” he commented. “You need to avoid much exposure to him;
he’s very observant - you can’t fool him.”
Superman pressed his lips and Tony saw the erosive melancholy returning to his
eyes. Clark knew that Bruce had his unique, awesome style which nobody could
imitate - and he already missed so much that powerful but lean and tight,
beautiful body .
“I know…” he sighed. “But I’ll be careful - my memory is eidetic and I can copy
any voice so I’ll keep to the minimum my movements in fights and everything
will be fine.”
Tony nodded and Clark looked at him questioningly.
“What?” Tony snapped.
“Do you have any news from Fury? “Batman” contacted him?”
Tony shook his head in denial.
“It seems that Bruce before launching the attack wanted her to relax believing
that nobody can ruin her plans so to give us more time to prepare and make the
element of surprise greater.”
“In his expense…” Superman sighed and Tony saw in his face the agony he was
also struggling. “I shouldn’t have accepted the vaccine that disrupted my
connection with Bruce!”
Tony yanked his head and rolled his eyes. He pressed his hair back.
“Till now you were speaking right, now you talk nonsense!” he snapped. “And as
far as I know it wasn’t your choice to take the vaccine: Bruce injected
you...and he did right! If you hadn’t been healed they would have easily killed
you with that fucking Kryptonite that now is useless: imagine their shock when
their secret weapon won’t have any effect to you! We’ll have squashed them
before they overcome the shock” he sighed. “And we’ll find Bruce without that
sickness that led you to attack him…” he jerked his eyebrows suggestively.
Superman nodded: Stark was right. If Bruce hadn’t injected him with the vaccine
he wouldn’t have been able to show him his true feelings and... make love to
him. He brought his hand to his eyes.
“You’re right...It was nonsense. I’m off…”
“Where?”
Superman stopped and turned to him.
“To Lucius to arrange “Batman’’s appearance and then to make another search to
the mountains and watch discreetly League’s hideouts around the globe for any
sign - they could have moved him elsewhere.”
Tony narrowed his eyes.
“What about that Flash guy?”
“He has a demanding daily job so I can’t expect him to run all day for me…
After all, I need them to see me searching desperate…”
Tony pressed his lips in a tight grin and Superman vanished in a blur. He
sighed and walked to his armor where the robots were fervently working; he
looked at Ironman impressed with his new achievement that shone in the lights
of the lab. He couldn’t wait to use his new weapon systems against the League.
Suddenly the lab’s various sounds were disrupted by his StarkStell announcing
that his S.H.I.E.L.D. beeper rang; he had left the beeper in the office that
Bruce had given him to avoid being monitored. He frowned because Fury or anyone
from the team knew to not call him there. He left the lab and ascended to the
top floor where his office was: he didn’t hurry because his disregard for the
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s calls was notorious and nobody would suspect from his delay.
He slumped on his leather ergonomic chair behind the desk and opened the
connection.
“You know I’m busy, Rogers…” he said upset with closed eyes: he knew that it
wasn’t Captain America but he didn’t want the true caller to suspect that they
had changed their ways of communication.
“Maybe for Captain America but not for me…” a sly, sharp female voice filled
the room and Tony leaned to the desk supposedly startled. “Enable the camera on
your beeper” she ordered smoothly but definitely.
Tony frowned pretending the surprised.
“How do you know?”
“Just do what I say” her voice was amused and Tony congratulated himself on his
acting skills as he took his irritated expression: it was also notorious that
he didn’t like being ordered around. “I guarantee that you’ll be very
interested in what I have to say.”
He pressed the camera button that upon recognizing his fingerprint activated
and Tony watched before him emerging a frame with Miranda Tate or Talia Al Ghul
staring smugly at him.
“You!” he yelled exasperated knowing that she was seeing him too from a similar
frame.
Talia smirked.
“I see Bruce shares everything with you - of course: you’re his best friend.
Nice...So I don’t need to introduce myself.”
Her face’s whiteness was in sharp contrast with her black silken blouse and her
raven long hair. Tony took in the way her black eyes sparkled with malice and
triumph. She felt that she had the upper hand and could control everyone.
“How is Bruce?” he asked without much delay: she knew that they were aware that
the League collaborated with Luthor and Stane to capture Bruce - that was to be
disclosed when the League’s attack on Bruce was met with preplanned defence.
What they wanted to remain secret was their knowledge about S.H.I.E.L.D. being
League’s scheme and that Bruce deciphered their hideouts and weapons.
She looked at him sternly.
“That’s your agony, huh? I guess you and your alien ally have already swept the
planet to find him...In vain! You won’t find him so I’d suggest you give up and
devote your precious intelligence and energy in things that aren’t futile.”
Tony wanted to punch something but instead he rubbed his goatee.
“You think that you can ‘suggest’ things to me? You’re too arrogant and
stupid.”
Talia just stabbed him with her expressionless black eyes glimmering.
“And you, Tony, know about arrogance, right?” she arched an eyebrow. “Yet you
have no idea about people: for instance, I’m neither arrogant nor stupid.” She
straightened her head. “It’s a fact that I won the game and I have the King so
the chessboard is mine to rule.”
Tony rolled his eyes: the lady had one thing in common with Bruce. He wished
the only thing Bruce had to endure was playing chess with her…
“I’ll find you and your fucking organization and you’re going to pay for
everything you did to Bruce.”
She arched her eyebrows.
“Listen, Tony” her tone was straight business-like. “Bruce’s well being depends
on whether I’m satisfied or not and you’re a key factor to that.”
Tony cocked an eyebrow.
“If you really want to be satisfied I know some ways…” he said with innuendo
and sarcasm althogether.
Talia tilted her head without any emotion showing to her face.
“If you’re going to act the playboy brat billionaire” Tony narrowed his eyes:
he wanted so much to rub to her face that this was her precious organization’s
label for him “I just end the call and send you some piece of your friend” Tony
sat straighter on his chair and Talia smirked. “Bruce is used to lose parts of
his body due to his people’s lack of cooperation and” she connected her
fingertips in front of her face “you now that although I’m aware of how
priceless Bruce is I have many reasons to want to dismember him limb by limb”
her voice was so frozen that sent shivers to Tony’s spine for his friend’s
fate. “Maybe I should give you the opportunity to watch it live to realize how
detrimental you behavior can be for your buddy.”
Tony clenched his fist.
“I want to see and talk with Bruce: I’m not sure you haven’t already maimed
him.”
Talia shrugged and huffed.
“And If I did how this changes anything?” her eyes were pure sarcasm piercing
Tony’s outraged eyes. “Bruce is fine.”
“His blood was found at the scene!”
Talia shook her head.
“He is a fierce warrior: if you want to subdue him you have to take drastic
measures…but not lethal.”
Tony leaned more towards the projection.
“I don’t believe you” he hissed. “I want to see Bruce!”
Talia’s eyes became completely still and she scowled.
“What you want doesn’t matter: you won’t see Bruce except if I’m satisfied
enough to permit it” her teeth gritted. “You’re an untrustworthy man, Stark. My
father made through Falcone a deal with you that you didn’t keep.”
Tony narrowed his eyes and was ready to snap his protest but Talia yanked her
head.
“You agreed to manufacture a weapon for him in exchange for a night with Bruce.
You were granted the night but not only you didn’t create the weapon but also
took advantage of that night to help Bruce backstab my father and almost
destroy our organization.”
Tony jumbed on his feet.
“Your father abducted, tortured and almost kill me!” he clenched his jaw but
Talia regarded him unfazed.
“There’s no chance I let Batman communicate with Ironman” she spat. “You’ll see
and speak with Bruce only when I feel pleased enough by your actions to grant
you that. Bruce belongs to me – you have to accept that. From now and for his
entire life he’ll stay with me and my organization as he was meant to be” Tony
pressed his lips and tried to control his breath. “If you really care about his
‘comfort’ during his stay with us, you’ll see to keep me pleased.”
Tony wanted to punch her not only because she was blackmailing him but also
because she kept saying that Bruce belonged to her. On the other hand, he
managed to calm himself thinking that Bruce was right when said that her
overconfidence and her certainty will be crucial for defeating her. She
definitely didn’t suspect that they were ready to attack her.
“What do you want?” he said swallowing his wrath pretending that she bent his
will.
“What you promised my father through Falcone: the weapon that spreads nano
viruses to an area of thousands of acres at once – viruses that sicken or kill
millions in a matter of minutes or months according to my will: viruses that
can eat a human organization alive from inside.”
Tony shook his head.
“I can’t do that! I’m not a muss murderer!”
She stabbed him with her eyes.
“Neither am I” Tony rolled his eyes snorting. “I don’t want to kill people;
only to use the power of intimidation to keep them in the right path – the path
of justice. And if someone disregards justice will pay the price becoming the
example for the rest.”
Tony rubbed his chin thoughtful.
“And you who torture and kill people on a whim will teach justice to the
world?”
Talia tilted her head on the side snorting.
“You have no problem killing people either…”
“I didn’t kill in cold blood Stane!” he gritted his teeth.
She gave a sharp, short laugh and immediately turned her stare serious to him.
“Don’t tell me you were sorry for him?” she jibed him.
Tony pressed his lips.
“He had the right to be tried by a court.”
Talia twisted her lips.
“Now you’re talking like a rookie cop. Stane was guilty of repeatedly trying to
kill you and Bruce defying my orders: his death was well deserved.”
Tony sniggered.
“So justice depends on your whims and caprice…”
Talia’s eyes flashed.
“Do I need to get upset and order something bad for Bruce?” she asked
warningly. “I won, Tony and you lost and now what you hold dear is at my mercy:
do you really want him to be tortured because of your misled sense of justice?”
Misled sense of justice! Tony boiled inside but got a grip: they will settle
matters when time comes.
“Just don’t torture him: he has had enough in his life.”
She nodded.
“I know and for that you will want me to have Bruce’s medical record since from
now on I’ll have his care which we both want to be the best.”
Tony narrowed his eyes.
“You will give me a way to send you Bruce’s medical files?” he asked in
disbelief.
Talia chuckled.
“I know that you and Dr. Thompkins are in much worry for Bruce’s ongoing
treatments and his treatment from now on, so yes, I believe that handing me his
file will be for the interest of both of us. And of course Bruce’s” she
grinned. “But no, I won’t give you an address or another way to locate me:
you’ll just upload tonight Bruce’s record to the clinic’s system and disable
the firewalls without making any attempt to locate us – not that you’ll achieve
anything except than piss me.”
Tony’s heart clenched; he didn’t want to give her Bruce’s medical record to use
the info to do – who knows what – to him.
“I can’t do that” he snapped definitely.
Talia shook her head.
‘As you wish; then I’ll use my own doctors till you consider it wiser.”
Tony didn’t comment anything: everything will be over soon and Bruce will be
again under Leslie’s care.
“Any standards for the weapon?” he asked grudgingly.
Talia inhaled deeply swallowing for now his denial to submit the record.
“I trust your inventive genius and your motive to keep me pleased with your
work; besides I’m going to examine your creation and make my suggestions for
improvements.”
Tony fumed: improvements to his works! Although that precise work he definitely
wanted to be faulty.
“If I start manufacturing it I’ll get to see Bruce?” he asked sullen.
Talia lolled her head on the side thoughtful.
“Will see…By the way, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s system sucks! So easy to breach…”
She vanished from his office and Tony ended the call from his part to. He
rushed to the door but on opening he found Pepper staring at him.
“Where are you going?” she demanded crossing her arms and frowning.
“I have work to do!” he snapped irritated by the procrastination.
Pepper’s eyes widened.
“What?!” she yelled. “You’re thinking of building that horrible weapon?!”
“You heard?”
“My office is right beside yours and has intercom, remember?” she rolled her
eyes.
Tony run his hand to his hair and huffed in Pepper’s total exasperation.
“Tony, you’re not serious! You’re not going to give them such power! You’re
nuts!”
“They’ll torture Bruce!”
But Pepper clenched her jaw and her eyes flashed: she knew Bruce.
“And he’ll prefer that to millions of people being killed by that crazy bitch!
Stop considering that and embarrassing yourself and Bruce!”
Tony jerked his hand to the air.
“That will be my contingency, Pepper! If we fail I’ll have the weapon to
appease her to not make Bruce pay for our acts.”
“Bruce would rather die than letting these people threaten humanity! For fuck’s
sake, Tony! Bruce used himself as bait so that that bitch won’t harm more
people and you really consider betraying his will?!”
Tony lowered his eyes and Pepper sighed and cupped his face; she yanked his
head and kissed him on the lips.
“Go and make sure that you won’t fail but stop wasting time with such bullshit!
You’re Ironman; Superman and the Avengers are on your side and Batman has
already planned everything: don’t disappoint all of them and especially Bruce
who suffered so much because of that Al Ghul! When he threatened Bruce with
your lives he never succumbed instead he weaved his counterattack so
masterfully ensuring their defeat: do the same and stop whinning!” she
screamed.
Tony touched his forehead to hers kissing the tip of her nose; he was lucky to
have her in this…
***** Chapter 67 *****
The sapphire-emerald irises were half hidden from long eyelashes yet as he
focused more what initially looked like seducement registered as sorrow
struggling with boiling anger which couldn’t erupt against his enemies but
fuelled his body to continue breathe and live; motivated his mind to not
surrender to the bliss of madness which for years winked to him promising
salvation from the ugliness and the pain of his life at Falcone’s hands.
Bruce hated that painting but at his current situation he realized that it was
an inspiration, a reminder that it wasn’t the first time his mind endured.
He blinked and wished he could rub his eyes yet his hands although without
material restraints were paralysed. The bullets still throbbed inside his body
but there was no bleeding or piercing pain as if they tried to get absorbed by
his body: he shivered on that and the lashes on his back stinged. At least, the
effect from Crane’s injection passed and he could move his neck and head,
escaping the nightmarish sense of being locked in his own body.
Talia’s servants had come and fed him, giving him also water and milk to not be
dehydrated: all food of the greatest quality. He arched his eyebrows sarcastic:
she wanted her ‘property’ in the best shape for when Crane finished his job.
But Bruce knew that Crane wouldn't get the chance; his sick experimentation
won’t be for long: soon Fury would receive Batman’s message. He had prepared a
projection of himself with Lucius’ perfected hologram tech and Tony’s
breakthrough artificial intelligence inventions; thus, Batman’s projection
would look and speak as he would; exactly as Jarvis, and Fury wouldn’t suspect
the truth: after all, thankfully, Batman didn’t have the fame of a willing
communicator.
He just hoped that his friends wouldn’t hesitate a second because of his
captivity; Bruce was aware that Tony’s implant was destroyed by Talia’s bullet
and they removed his wrist watch and eye lenses. Yet that was a good thing
because Talia would be more certain of her victory and less cautious. They just
had to not hesitate and the League would be extinguished for ever.
Though his stomach was upset he ate without any resistance because he wanted to
regain his strength for the right moment - not that he would be of much help
paralyzed but at least he would avoid the intravenous feeding. Also, he was
aware that good nutrition would help his brain fight all this torturous
procedure.
He didn’t sigh though he wanted to let some stream of; he wouldn’t give them
the satisfaction if they were watching him. His head didn’t ache much but a
dull, incapacitating pulsing pain was still there along with a ‘sweet’
dizziness. And he felt tired.
He fell asleep as soon as he ended his food: maybe they sedated him or it was
just the mental fatigue but sleeping didn’t help at all. Because it was a
fitful sleep: everytime he felt himself slipping in the bliss of deep, restful
sleep, nightmares mingled with flashbacks came to wake him up only to fall
asleep again till a new deep sleep phase began and violently disrupted by
nightmares.
Bruce could have believed that these nightmares were PTSD’s usual flashbacks
but after the nights with Clark his sleep had become much better - not that the
flashbacks just vanished but they were less in number and intensity. So these
new nightmares definitely weren’t normal.
He pressed his lips; disrupting the much needed sleep was a well known torture,
only this time was induced by Crane’s drugs and there was no need for them to
wake him physically.  He was used to be deprived of sleep - eighteen years of
that and he was a kid then: so there was nothing new though the unhealed
concussion was an issue. But he would endure that as he had endured so many
other things as the painting reminded him.
While he was asleep they shaved him and someone, probably Crane, attached to
his finger the gadget measuring his glucose levels and he could see other small
needles and cables measuring his other vitals though there was no monitor in
the room and Bruce was sure that the data were transferred wireless to them..
They didn’t put him a catheter and he had the mispleasure to be handled by
Talia’s servants to satisfy his bodily needs.
The door opened and Bruce heard Crane’s footsteps approaching: sleep
deprivation and headache made the sounds louder. At first, he was afraid that
Crane had come to continue his treatment but to his relief the case was nowhere
to be seen.
The doctor grabbed the stool near the bench and dragged it to sit beside the
bed. Bruce raised his eyes and looked at him confused but inside scowling:
Crane had his trademark smug, sarcastic expression on but his mocking eyes were
also curious.
“You’re an interesting puzzle, huh?” he asked crossing his legs.
Bruce filled his eyes with innocence and Crane smiled.
“Why a woman like her gives so much money and creates so much fuss for someone
like you?”
“You should ask your employer…”
Crane laughed.
“Your Mistress.”
Bruce shook his head.
“She is not my Mistress” he retorted shyly but resolutely.
Crane closed his mouth between his palms and laughed again.
“Please, Mr. Wayne; you’re fooling yourself and it’s really ridiculous to say
that while everyone knows that your entire life you were Falcone’s sex slave.
But what really intrigued me was those people’s interest in you” he leaned
towards Bruce. “What’s so special about you that her father owned you and left
you to his daughter?”
Bruce looked dumbfounded as if he heard the most bizzare thing: he didn’t like
Crane knowing those things and of course he wasn’t going to give him any
answer.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” he mumbled. “Please, help me…”
The doctor shook his head and fixed his glasses on his nose.
“Ra’s Al Ghul was fucking you?” the voice was different than his usual as if
another person was talking.
Bruce knew from his investigation that led to the doctor’s arrest and
imprisonment that while Crane made his experiments he wore a sack mask creating
terror and panic to his unfortunate patients. In his research he learnt that he
was calling himself ‘Scarecrow’ and Dr. Quinzel had diagnosed him as DID, that
is ‘dissociative Identity Disorder’ with the odd, unique diference that the
genius doctor was aware of his second personality. So Bruce had to face both
Crane’s sick ‘scientific’ interest and Scarecrow’s pure evil and dominating
nature. Which was...really what he needed right now.
Of course there was no chance he would answer his jeering question.
Crane smirked and lolled his head.
“As if I need an answer… You must be really good in that to create such passion
to men… Ra’s Al Ghul wasn’t an easy man to impress.”
The doctor made a move to cup Bruce’s chin and he jerked away. Crane purged his
lips and rested his hand on Bruce’s immobile shoulder.
“I didn’t expect such reaction from you” he narrowed his sparkling eyes. “All
your life your duties included much more than a touch and you were trained from
early on.”
Bruce lowered his eyes.
“I can’t stand being touched…”
Crane rolled his eyes and yanked his head staring at Bruce scowling.
“Really? I don’t think that you ever learnt to discern the difference between
what you have to do and what you stand; people like you internalize the other
people’s desires and believe that they are their own gradually integrating them
in their self image.”
Bruce’s eyes widened.
“This is scientifically proved?” he asked mocking awe.
Crane nodded.
“Because I beg to differ” Bruce added always restricted. “Each human is
different and your ‘rules’ can’t apply to everyone.”
Crane smiled.
“So you really aren’t the mindless porcelain sex doll: you know how to think
and speak.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
Crane stared at him.
“Being abused, famished, tortured and raped mercilessly from your childhood
damages your mental functioning and your personality.”
Bruce looked at him puzzled.
“Another scientific law? I’m sorry to disappoint.”
Crane removed his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief.
“Not at all; on the contrary, it’s fascinating and certainly worth of digging.
Also I understand your Mistress’ care to not damage your brain.”
“I’m certain that all these people you classify as ‘victims’ have many amazing
skills so there’s nothing ‘fascinating’ about me. Just your...law has to
change.”
Crane put again his glasses and pressed his lips.
“You really have to appreciate your Mistress’ concern…”
Bruce yanked his head.
“She attacked me, she injured me, she paralyzed me, she holds me against my
will! Please, Dr. Crane: don’t do to me all these things; help me leave this
place or contact Tony” his eyes were glimmering with desperate hope though
Bruce doubted that Crane would be persuaded- still maybe there was hope for the
doctor: after all, he was a mental patient himself.
Crane lolled his head on the side and smirked.
“Do you really expect anything from that buffoon loser called Stark?” he leaned
towards Bruce. “Where was he when the League attacked you? He did nothing to
save you: why doing anything now?” he straightened his posture on the chair. “I
suggest as an expert of human behavior and psychology” Bruce cocked a mental
eyebrow “that you forget your so called friend and your other supposed
protectors and show your appreciation to your thoughtful Mistress: she gave you
a nice, soft bed; she feeds you richly” Crane quirked his eyebrows “you really
don’t stand hunger, huh? I saw you ate your entire food: good boy! Anyway, she
cares about your convenience while she could just throw you to a dungeon, chain
you, famish you and beat the hell out of you till you licked her feet or…” he
smiled jeeringly and his eyes sparkled slyly “whatever else she wanted you to
lick. As Falcone did and as every rightful owner would have done with his
untamed stubborn property. You’re lucky to have such an understanding Mistress
to compensate for your lack of fortune in friends.”
Bruce made his eyes hurt but annoyed at the same time.
“You don’t know Tony so don’t speak about him; as a matter of fact” his voice
was determined as his stare though he blinked a bit “because you know how to
blend chemicals that affect the brain doesn’t make you an expert of human
behavior and psychology as you brag; in reality, you’re more ignorant than a
person without any of your degrees.”
Crane’s eyes shone with the scientist’s interest that battled with Scarecrow’s
anger.
“You’re an interesting specimen, huh, Bruce? You’re a scared puppy that barks
to hide his fear: your little brain really works in your stubbornness…Even if
you’re not as special as Batman, you’re surely a challenge albeit not so great
– actually, I don’t believe that I’ll need much time with you.”
His arrogance was pushing Bruce to snort but he just looked at him scared,
inhaled and shook his head.
“I won’t become her slave.”
Crane regarded his unwilling patient amused; he could detect that Wayne wasn’t
the typical victim that everyone thought but still he was a broken human being
prone to manipulation. He was sure that pigheadedness was the only
characteristic that Wayne had saved from his life with his parents and the only
thing that kept him sane; Talia probably mistook stubbornness for personality.
He twisted his mouth and looked Bruce sympathetically.
“Slave…” he arched his brows and shook his head in disapproval. “You should be
grateful that she wants to make it easier for you; instead of making you want
it too, she could just take what she wants by force like everyone else till
now…” he shrugged. “Besides you’re used to that: no big change there, on the
contrary you’ll be in your element.”
Bruce let his head loll to the side.
“I don’t expect from someone as ignorant of the human soul as you to
understand” he said calmly but giving sorrow and hopelessness to his voice.
He knew that Crane had made a move but he couldn’t show his awareness; the
insane doctor wore a sack mask and with a sudden jerk fisted Bruce’s hair
yanking his head towards him. His glistening light blue eyes glared angrily but
blankly from the two openings and his teeth grinded through another hole for
the mouth.
Bruce’s eyes flickered with terror as when he wanted to please his masters’
sadism but in reality he found it ridiculous: Crane decided to use Scarecrow
since he failed to achieve his goals with reasoning.
And then Crane sprayed him in the face with something attached to his wrist and
his mask became distorted among mist and terrible, crows. Bruce gasped.
“You don’t get to insult Scarecrow, whore” he growled.
“I…I just answered to Dr. Crane; I…I didn’t say anything to a Scarecrow…” he
muttered; his head ached worse than the dull drumming till now and his vision
transformed Crane’s mask to a nightmarish odd thing but still his awareness
about what he was seeing was unmovable. Besides, he had just come from a
session of real painful nightmares so Crane’s mask was a joke in comparison.
“I’m the Scarecrow: the master of all your fears” he yelled exasperated and his
toxin blurred more his perception but not his analyzing thought.
“Is this really your idea of the outmost fear?” he said pitying him. “You don’t
know a thing about real terrors, do you?”
Scarecrow pushed Bruce’s head on the pillow and stood still wearing his mask,
rasping.
“Your stubbornness won’t manage to save your mind from Dr. Crane’s
genius…You’ll become what we want you to be, idiot spoiled brat!” he pulled off
his mask and tided his disheveled hair. “Come!” he yelled and as he shoved his
mask inside his jacket’s pocket two servants came in carrying his case.
Bruce’s breath became uneven and wasn’t just an act; it was too soon… he didn’t
like having to face it again so soon but he kept his composure letting Crane
see what wanted to see.
Crane wore his glasses relishing the widening of Wayne’s eyes and his increased
heartbeat.
“With our sessions twice a day and the dose increasing you will soon stop
doubting your superiors.”
Bruce didn’t answer seeing the horrible metal box-mask approaching him again
and a forearm chokeheld him for Crane to inject him the anaesthesia: he needed
to focus inside and strengthen his mental defences.
  
 
People scarcely but steadily entered the house-like shed that served as a poor
substitute of a bar; here despite the fact that Fall was still at its shy
beginning the dark came faster than in the other areas so at the first hours of
the afternoon everything was dim and misty. The cold pierced the bones even
though winter was still far.
It was the mountains and everything ran in different rhymes.
Selina dressed in her weathered jeans and cheap pullover under her leather
jacket sat at the bar sweeping the glasses and watching discreetly the
customers. She was an outsider, a stranger but the fact her friends introduced
her made things easier; the ‘barman’ presented her as his niece who wanted to
avoid the wrong people from the city.
As soon as she trusted Alfred in Leslie’s capable and caring hands Selina
hastened to speak with her friends in Gotham’s underworld. They were afraid to
talk more even from Falcone’s era or they didn’t know anything more than
rumors. It was then that Selina followed the cops from the MCU to the empty
Manor where as she heard them discussing Luthor met his partners. She was
grateful to the little gadgets Bruce and Tony had given her and allowed her
eavesdrop these interesting things.
Police cordoned the place and left guards not that Selina hoped to find
anything: she listened to the forensics saying that the Manor was surgical
clean as if nobody stayed here for decades and in fact in the official records
there was no information about the house being inhabited or lent.
And that left no doubt in Selina about Luthor’s sincerity. Simply his partners
knew that he was going to rat them and made their escape beforehand. But that
sufficed to her. The info about the ‘haunted’ Manor and Luthor’s often visits
there was enough for the little rats of Gotham’s underworld, her friends: they
definitely knew everything going on in the city and a mysterious Manor with an
esteemed visitor as Luthor had surely caught their interest early on.
Indeed, they knew things but very obscure; just some comings and go’s and weird
silent people like robots. Of course if the Manor wasn’t so luxurious they
wouldn’t have kept their eyes there looking for a chance to steal everything
they could. Which thankfully, they didn’t attempt because at some point the low
rank crook’s powerful survival instinct lit the red light of alarm yelling to
not mess with them. And along with talent in surviving Gotham’s small crooks
stood out for their curiosity.
And that curiosity made them watch discreetly the movements in the Manor which
gave Selina the info that the residents moved approximately a month ago. Where?
Well, the favors some of Selina’s friends owed her moved some ‘wires’ and
Selina’s friends had some other friends in the broader area of Gotham and the
state who noticed some people moving with extra secrecy from Gotham to an area
almost deserted. So deserted that the smart birds of the underworld spotted
immediately the movements of a small army with peculiar, fancy looking weapons
and kept their eyes on them: small smart birds were always cautious of powerful
gangs especially the new ones that emerged like mushrooms.
Selina was overjoyed hearing about the new Manor - the choice of grandiose
buildings affirmed for her that the bitch who took Bruce was there. She was
ready to turn on Bruce’s bike and rush there to free him; of course she
intended to inform Tony and Clark as soon as she was sure that Bruce was there.
Selina didn’t want to occupy them earlier because she knew that they were
working fervently on the other part of the League’s defeat.
All of a sudden she heard Phil hurrying to her: he was one of her more trusted
buddies in Narrows and he ran a small bar where small time crooks and citizens
crammed; thus he was hearing things and had many connections that gave him more
knowledge than most in Gotham; of course he never talked except than in special
cases.
And Selina, his ‘niecey’ as he teased her, was definitely one of these cases.
He told her that the people she was looking for had evacuated the new Manor.
Selina had cursed and her sorrow which till now was keeping at bay showed even
barely. But Phil hastened to comfort her informing her that some people of his
had noticed curious movements in their area: people matching Selina’s
descriptions - among them a young woman with long raven hair and a giant with
covered face. His people lived at Adirondack Mountains.
Selina knew exactly what to do from there. Phil warned her that people there
were few and thus knew each other being coy with strangers; Selina had answered
that she knew how to be discreet but Phil helped her more taking her there
himself and introducing her to his cousin, a tough-looking but unexpectedly
benevolent man who had no objection to accommodate and help her with her quest
since Phil reassured him that their close community wouldn’t be involved or in
danger.
It was actually a small settlement of lumberjacks and carpenters who chose to
stay there for their work having no appreciation for the ‘modern civilization’.
For Selina who loved every bit of Gotham even in its dangerousness that seemed
unthinkable.
She was there hardly 24 hours and people looked at the newcomer curiously but
as soon as Rodney, Phil’s cousin, explained to a couple of them that she was
his niece they stopped bothering so Selina could wander the area and hear their
muffled or not so muffled chats; besides she knew how to make herself
unnoticed.
Rodney had already told her that the lumberjacks who scoured the mountains
during their discussions at his ‘bar’ mentioned the presence of some weird
people who seemed to vanish as if the mountains swallowed them.
Selina’s heart jolted on that: she knew very few people who could ‘vanish’ and
that inticated that she was close. Yet nobody spoke about some establishment;
surely if something was built in their area they would immediately notice and
there was no mysterious building in these mountains.
She had spent the morning and the midday searching the area to no avail: the
range was big and even in the locations where the locals had spotted the weird
people she couldn’t find anything to help her find a path to focus her
research; and she was sure that Tony and Clark had already searched thoroughly
the area and didn’t find anything so technology and super vision weren’t the
key there.
So she sat at Rodney’s wooden-brick cabin and watched the men’s discussions
without staring hoping to hear something that would guide her to the right
location. After night fell she was going out to continue searching.
 
Jim gazed at the aglow Gotham from MCU’s rooftop with his arms crossed.
Sometimes his love for this city puzzled even him: most people would prefer to
live to a beautiful, shiny, hopeful city like Metropolis where cutting one head
of criminality didn’t give two new. Of course every city had its own
criminality problems but Gotham was the Queen. Batman was always there
protecting the city and neutralizing the criminals but they kept coming.
Seven months from the day they were liberated from Falcone and the League of
Shadows and still the city wasn’t left at peace: first Joker and now Joker
again and the League murdering the crime lords and abducting Bruce Wayne.
The fact that Luthor, Dagget and Stane was let in on the plot said Jim that the
League prepared something big. But why they took Bruce Wayne? Okay, the youth
was at the moment the most famous resident of the city but still the fact that
they immediately after capturing him ‘burnt’ their allies pointed that the
young man was indeed their primary target. And Jim had an explanation for that
– actually, two: Ironman and Superman.
The first was Bruce’s best friend, his love for the youth well known so
naturally Ironman’s enemies wanted to use his long lost friend as leverage:
Stane had attacked Bruce a few days before the latest events. As for Superman,
there wasn’t a known connection between him and Bruce but the Man of Steel had
saved the young billionaire when Joker attacked his office and the hero’s image
at the spot from where Bruce was taken was revealing – Superman was simply
heartbroken and those who kidnapped Bruce knew that.
So they probably wanted to control and neutralize two of the most prominent
heroes holding their loved one – and that was bad news for the world and Gotham
which as usually would be their first target.
He was a galvanized cop and man but he never lost his sensitivity so now his
guts were clenched for Bruce who had the misfortune to be again captive of
ruthless people.
Still Jim was sure that Bruce’s friends were up to something and that last
night’s events didn’t surprise them. He took the testimony of Alfred Pennyworth
and the man was shaken albeit under his usual composure: in his demeanor, he
was a father whose son was taken in front of his eyes and his agony was evident
yet Jim sensed something else. Like a deeper belief that his boy would come
back: of course that wasn’t peculiar for parents of missing people and Alfred
had at his side two superheroes along with their connections. But still…
Batman had given them Luthor and Dagget immediately after the abduction so
maybe he and the others were planning something. He wished he had some
intelligence but on the other hand maybe it was better to not know.
His job was to guard Gotham and arrest Joker before innocent people got in
danger. He heard footsteps and turned to see Harvey approaching.
“You won’t light the signal?” he gestured to the spotlight.
Jim shook his head.
“I don’t think it’s necessary: Batman knows that Joker will try to attack
Luthor and that we’ll transfer him secretly to Blackgate. Besides I don’t want
to raise suspicions that we set a trap.”
Harvey nodded.
“Did you secure Rachel and your father?” Harvey had revealed to Jim Rachel’s
past and that she would testify against Joker.
“Yes, I sent them somewhere far and safe till Joker is captured.’’
The young DA moved towards the ledge beside Jim and looked also at the city.
“Sometimes I wonder what special this city has to keep all of us tied with her
and her fate…” Harvey mumbled. “Do you?”
Jim smiled.
“For an outsider we Gothamites are insane, perverts to remain in this city.”
Harvey chuckled.
“Even those who left at some point return…It’s a kind of addiction, I suppose.”
Jim huffed.
“An addiction highly contagious…” he added thinking of Tony Stark and Superman.
Harvey pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Schiff didn’t tell anything except than nonsense and the hideout near the
airport that Rachel revealed was empty apart from some Joker cards without any
indication of where Joker might have gone.”
“We are prepared for Joker’s attack: we’ll get him.”
Harvey put his hands on the waist.
“And then find Bruce” who made Rachel change path and come to me.
Jim shook his head.
“I’ve got the impression that this task surpasses GCPD but we still do our best
ready to assist if needed.”
“The paperwork of their persecution for the murders at Gambol’s restaurant will
be ready for the new DA.”
Jim clenched his waist and looked Harvey in the eye.
“Garcia is going to accept your resignation?”
Harvey shrugged.
“It doesn’t matter: this mess with Joker is my responsibility and I’ll face the
consequences. After all, I’m only temporary.”
Jim pressed his lips.
“But the best we had till now.”
Harvey turned towards the city.
“I still betrayed the city and Gotham doesn’t deserve more betrayals” he
smiled. “Besides the new DA could be even better.”
Jim didn’t say anything and gazed also at the city: he couldn’t blame Harvey
for what he did; he didn’t know what he’d have done in his place – perhaps the
same. The sure thing was that although he hated that Harvey would stop being
his partner because of Joker, Jim would have resigned as well…He raised his
gloom eyes to the sky but then a giant black bird soaring with spread wings
above the city caught his attention. They had more urgent things right now.
He arched his eyebrows suggestively to Harvey.
“I knew there was no need for the signal…”
 
Luthor inside the police van was fuming. He was chained as a common thug
guarded by one cop who held tightly his rifle. The van was speeding
transferring him to the Blackgate Prison - that was outrageous! He wasn’t
someone random! He was Lex Luthor, the King of Metropolis; they couldn’t drag
him to a prison - in Gotham of all places!
His lawyer’s efforts to bail him out and some interventions from his powerful
connections failed: Harvey Dent dismissed everything. Of course, he fired his
lawyer. Especially, when he informed him about the drop of LEXCORP’s shares -
which he had expected - and - that was the crucial - that Bruce Wayne was now
the owner of the 30% of HIS company and had the control of LEXLABS.
Lex was furious and being confined in that stupid van in this stupid city
unable to do anything intensified his wrath. It was unbelievable how that
bastard managed while captive to both get him arrested and invade his company
when Luthor was sure that at this very moment Wayne Enterprises would be his.
Definitely, that was Fox’s job - that evil fox! Because Wayne was a scared
little shit just lucky to have excellent employees.
He fumed; the only thing that offered him some solace was that Dagget got
busted to. His lawyer told him that the bastard tried to acquire Wayne
Enterprises’ control for himself taking advantage of his arrest - the double-
crossing worm! Wayne - no, Not Wayne! - Fox predicted his move and blocked him
persuading Wayne to trust his company to Fredericks.
And of course knowing that Stark and especially Superman was devastated,
searching desperately the brat, gave him a wild satisfaction that would become
full joy if they found Wayne dead: preferably, mercilessly tortured and fucked
till his last breath. He had had enough with his damn luck to escape from tight
spots.
They would pay for all these! Luthor kept repeating stilling his cold eyes at
the wall of the vehicle as if he could open it. He had connections much higher
than a stupid local DA whom he’d destroy as the entire head of Gotham’s police!
He clenched his fist. They’ll pay for this humiliation.
 
Joker sat at the passenger seat letting the bozo with Bugs Bunny’s mask to
drive. He had fully restored his make-up, dyed his hair and wore his one-of-a-
kind purple suit: he never gave much attention to clothes and looks -
mmm...except than Brucey’s of course but still Brucey’s inner world appealed
him as much as his looks - but he felt much better now inside his ‘armor’,
ready for everything. He was angry - no, angry was an understatement...He was
mad - well, that wasn’t new - pissed, outraged, thirsty for blood and fire.
Rachel backstabbed him, betrayed him for Dent’s sake. His eyes were staring
eery still at the street. Not that he didn’t expect that from her; she was as
unstable as he but still that didn’t make matters better. He just didn’t expect
her to betray him for...love, for fuck’s sake!
And he had still some questions unanswered for her before punishing her...or
during punishment...he hadn’t decided yet. He suspected that Rachel backstabbed
him earlier… well, back-hit him in the head interrupting his first time with
Brucey.
The wounds from stilettoes in his hands were a fact but that was another thing,
two women came to save Brucey that night...How touching! Of course it was
natural his Brucey to wake up the maternal instinct to some women because to
the most - as himself - he woke up much wilder instincts...His penis twitched.
“Shut up, Jockey! I’m aaa… thinking now!”
Anyway, he had his suspicions about the chick that stabbed his hands that
night; he heard about Batman fighting those who kidnapped Brucey along with a
mysterious woman. And Batman was one to rush to the save but the woman must
have had other reasons for wanting to save Brucey. She was his protector but
that night reached Dolcetto after Rachel knocked him out.
He could still hear Rachel trying to warn him that Brucey might not last his
treatment but Joker was so elated that didn’t grasp the hints. How was he to
imagine that his cruel, indifferent accomplice would care about a stranger? But
was he really a stranger? Because the fact that Rachel came for Harvey told him
that romantic love wasn’t the reason she helped Brucey. He was so CURIOUS! He
was sure that he could get many delicious things of this.
And of course, what made his wrath flood was that his Brucey, his spouse, was
taken and that scum Luthor helped… When he heard that the gang that abducted
Bruce was led by a woman he immediately remembered Morticia in Luthor’s office,
the first time he sent the bald bastard flying. They were conspiring since then
to snatch his boy and that bastard handed them his spouse.
After Luthor touched, kissed and slapped Brucey - he saw the footage from
Luthor’s suite, that police got courtesy of Batman who also seemed to have some
interest in his Brucey. He rolled his eyes.
“Hmm…” he rubbed his chin thoughtful and Bugs turned puzzled. “Your eyes on the
road, booozo! We doooon’t want to kill anyone!”
Of course Batman was a self appointed protector - a giggle erupted from his
painted red lips: imagine wanting desperately to end your life and finally you
find a bridge to fall and after minutes of hesitation you make the jump only to
realize that a giant bat saved you! Anyway, maybe Batman’s interest for Brucey
was more than for a victim and judging from Batman’s reaction everytime Joker
and he was in the same space then his fantasy threesome could become reality.
With some effort of course because Batman wasn’t easy.
Not that Brucey was easy either… Joker brushed his forehead where a faint
reminder of a headbutt remained. That night, when he was ready to take his
spouse’s virginity…
“HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!”
Bugs startled.
Figure of speech. Exactly when Rachel hit his head with something heavy his
delicate flower butted his forehead. He smiled wickedly and licked his lips. He
knew that Brucey hid treasure: a burried volcano ready to explode with his
masterful ministrations and burn everything in its lava… His eyes sparkled in
expectance and gulped the gathered saliva.
Any-way, what mattered now was that that bald scum Luthor touched, threatened,
kissed and slapped Brucey - things only HE was meant to do. And Joker just
couldn’t let that unpunished since he had warned Luthor and the baldy chose to
ignore him; also he was going to learn from him where they took Brucey. Police
failed but he wasn’t one who accepts ‘no’ as an answer.
So everyone expected him to attack Luthor and he would do the unexpected: what
they expected. And of course, Batman would be waiting him to attack the MCU and
Luthor so Joker wouldn’t disappoint…
 
It was weird flying inside Batman’s armor and trying to remember always to keep
the wings spread but he’d manage. Gotham’s night sky was always grimmer,
darker, gloomier than Metropolis’, as if the city’s criminality and corruption
affected even the sky yet Superman had come to hold dear this city as much as
his own because it was the city of the man he loved more than his life. Bruce
loved this city and everytime he talked about her and his memories while still
with his parents and his dreams about a new, happier Gotham, the hopeful,
enthusiastic sparkle in his eyes and his endless love was contagious.
Bruce never hated his city even when became his prison at Falcone’s hands; even
at those years, Bruce loved Gotham and her people so his creation, Batman,
wasn’t only the means to save himself and defeat his enemies but also to help
the citizens who suffered from injustice and liberate the entire city.
Superman, well Batman, stood on an ancient gargoyle overlooking the MCU’s area,
fighting the urge to yank his head upwards and place his fists on his hips. The
city was beautiful even if different than Metropolis or Smallville: he couldn’t
deny that she had a charm over him…as her dark protector had. He felt like he
was looking Gotham with Batman’s eyes – well, the lenses were indeed Batman’s
but under them were Clark’s eyes that brushed Gotham copying Bruce’s loving
gaze.
He was fully concentrated on his task but at times he found himself lost in the
thrilling realization that he wore the same armor that hugged Bruce’s almost
naked body. He flew to heaven for two awesome nights in Bruce’s angelic body
but they weren’t enough and his thirst peaked again so he reached the point to
envy an inanimate thing! The armor was made to absorb and vanish any human
scent but Clark’s eidetic memory was constantly bringing back Bruce’s
enchanting aroma enhancing his thirst for the human.
He looked at a sole star that defied the black clouds and sparkled playfully
and his heart jolted. Where are you, Star? He closed his eyes: a sudden wind
brushed his face and waved his black cape – Clark sent with the wind his hug to
warm his captive Star. He was sure that Bruce was cold without his love as all
these years in his cage – he prayed that the warmth of his arms could travel
with the wind to find and warm him up: a remainder that there were people who
loved and thought about him. He wondered if Bruce was also thinking about him
right now, about the nights they spent together.
Clark although was totally devoted to guard Gotham would prefer to be smashing
those scums rescuing Bruce and taking him in his arms to their greenhouse…But
Bruce had put straight their priority: first destroying the League and then
save him. Unfortunately, Clark was afraid – scared – that the first won’t lead
to the later because scanning the League’s hideouts from afar he didn’t find
any sign of Bruce. He sighed: why are you so cruel with yourself, Bruce? Why
you sacrifice yourself so easily?
But then the howling of tires reached his pointy ears: a van was approaching
MCU running crazily and causing the irritated or panicked yells of the other
drivers and a wave of angry horns. A shrieking laughter from the mad van made
Batman’s jaw clench and he turned his eyes there: in the passenger’s seat a
white painted face with grotesque scars forming a Chesire smile and green curly
hair - Joker was heading to MCU to attack Luthor. He turned his eyes to the van
transferring Luthor to the other direction several blocks away from the MCU and
near the prison.
He smiled and when realized that he hastened to press his lips in Batman’s
style, glad that nobody was there to notice his smile. He dived to the void
graciously as his Star and spread the wings.
“Joker on Kingston Street fast approaching” he relented to Tony. “The van with
Luthor is near Blackgate. Joker bit the decoy: I’m off to get him.”
“Remember not fly too fast. I’m coming.”
“No need – stay there in case Fury contacts you.”
He almost heard Tony’s eyes roll.
“Bruce would never have programmed the message to be sent during patrol hours –
it would be weird if Batman was patrolling Gotham the same time he was speaking
to Fury; I’ll be stand by if you need me.”
“Batman doesn’t want outsiders messing with his job…”
“Point taken.”
“I see the van.”
 
Joker was seeing his target fast approaching.
“Whoa! Whoa!” he giggled. “Faster, Bugs! Faster!”
He leaned to the back of the car and took a bazooka giggling enthralled. He
smashed his window and pointed the weapon towards his target.
“I aaaaalways wanted to dooooo THIS!” he yanked his head closing his eyes
enjoying the wind.
 
“I’m there” Batman said to Tony.
 
“Steady nooow…” Joker muttered centering his target, readying for the hit.
 
“I’m taking Joker.”
Batman brought his arms to his body and stormed towards the passenger’s seat
carrying away the clown and the driver and stopping the van pressing the
immobilizer with his hand.
 
“Boss, Batman attacks us!”
“Gooooood boy!” Joker cried enthusiastic and fired hitting the police’s van at
the tires causing it to balance dangerously.
 
Batman looked at the giggling clown sprawled at his feet in the street. He
could tell that he wasn’t Joker and a quick scan of his face proved it.
“Damn! He fooled us!” he said to his com as police cars came rushing to the
scene. “He’s attacking the van! I’m going there!”
 
 
“Turn the wheel to the van - step on it!” Jim who was in one of the patrol cars
that discreetly followed the van with Luthor yelled at Renee Montoya and at his
radio.
The van was right after the building, a turn away and now Jim was seeing it
stopped with his tires blown and Joker jumping from his own van - thankfully,
there were only a few civilian drivers (Jim chose that route on purpose) and
they dispersed as soon as they heard the shots.
Jim’s eyes fixed on the jester resolute and poised: they’d get him before
approaching Luthor or the officers guarding him.
But then a blast right in front of them sent the car in the air and crashing to
the street blocking the way as more blasts filled the rest of the road with
debris and parts of the parked cars on the two sides of the street.
The police cars following Jim’s car stopped abruptly just a second before
colliding into the upturned car and the officers jumped outside, some of them
rushing to help the Commissioner and the others pointing their guns at Joker
who watched enthralled giggling maniac.
“Hands in the air, you motherfucker!” Bullock yelled clenching his teeth. “Or I
shoot!”
Joker raised his index.
“Naaaaah! I don’t think sooooo…”
A loud nightmarish sound almost blew their eardrums as a big truck came
suddenly from the side way and settled between Joker and the police. Another
truck did the same in front of the van carrying Luthor blocking the way of the
driver who was trying to start the car despite the two blown up tires.  The man
and his co-driver took an abundance of bullets from Joker’s goons that put them
out of action.
Joker shook nervously his head and laughed.
“Uhhhhh! I looove my style! Let’s see our friend now…”
 
“They attacked the police cars that covered the transfer and blocked the van”
Tony informed Clark listening to the police’s frequency. “Jim and Montoya got
injured - thankfully, not heavily.”
Superman clenched his jaw.
“I heard the explosions and the crashings - it’s very near, I’ll be there in no
time.”
“Don’t be very fast or you’ll raise suspicions - and don’t stretch your fist in
the air to fly.”
Clark rolled his eyes.
“I’m a bat now and Batman always arrives on time. I can see the commotion with
my long-distance vision: in two seconds I’ll take Joker.”
Tony gasped.
“There’s a bomb ready to explode at the bin on your left!”
“There are many people at the sidewalk and cars passing… I’d grab the bin and
fly away!”
“You’re Batman now!” Tony yelled warning.
“Nobody knows the exact nature and strength of him.” He used his X-Ray vision.
“I see the bomb - it’s ten seconds before the blast and it’s connected with
nitroglycerin!”
Tony’s eyes bulged.
“Shit! Be careful! I’m taking off for Joker!”
As Batman wrapped the bin with his grapple gun to hide his ability to lift it
with his own hands, Superman could hear Ironman’s armor covering his body and
the whoose of taking off.
 
 
Amongst the chaos of police sirens howling, horns of civilian cars that slowly
but steadily gathered behind the police cars and sirens of ambulances fast
approaching Joker with the expression of a King in the center of his realm
hopped like a teen girl to cover the distance grasping a rifle in one hand and
a knife in the other; his goon raked with bullets the locked door of the
vehicle. The vehicle was bullet proof yet Joker took care to acquire special
bullets.
The officer - guard jolted suddenly and shot the goon before taking a  storm of
bullets from Joker who walked over him towards Luthor who cowered at the depths
of the truck trying to keep his cool albeit the panic flooding his blood.
Joker looked at him with his head tilted on the side.
“Nauuuughty, nauuughty boy! Nobody told you that trespassing is forbidden and
punished?” he asked patronizingly and abruptly jumped on Luthor throwing his
rifle and clenching the knife.
Luthor’s eyes widened.
 
Superman would have frozen the nitroglycerin blowing but as Batman he couldn’t
do that; he was sure that Bruce had a way to disable the nitroglycerin yet he
hadn’t the time to think as him. He dragged the bin in the alley and free from
the bystanders’ stares he turned to heat vision to fuse the cables winning some
time as the countdown stopped at one second; then he opened the lid and froze
with his breath the bottles of nitroglycerin stabilizing it.
He sighed: just at the last second. Cliche! Clark thought but felt sweatdrops
on his forehead: even superpowered it wasn’t easy to be Batman; and he still
had cheated…
He grabbed the bin and lifted it carefully because even frozen the exploding
material was too sensitive. He’d take it to the MCU where the experts would
defuse it. He hoped that Tony would make it faster to Joker.
 
Tony in midflight among lit skyscrapers cursed as he heard an explosion coming
from the Narrows.
“I’m gonna kill that fucking clown! And he’s so non-authentic!”
He was very close to Joker but the explosion seemed really strong.
“Damn! Jarvis, where do you locate the explosion?”
“Arkham Asylum, sir.”
Tony cursed again.
“Casualties?”
“No, sir; but the security systems fell and some walls collapsed so inmates
from every unit swarm the place. Police heads there.”
“I see them… Where to run first?” he mumbled but considering the dangerous
inpatients and the Asylum’s staff in danger rushed there.
How would Bruce have managed to cope with all this simultaneously? He wondered
and then Tony pressed his lips: by predicting his enemy’s moves and blocking
them before happening. Bruce knew Joker.
 
Joker grabbed Luthor’s face and put the blade inside his mouth.
“I. Warned. Youuuuu…” he hissed grinding his teeth at Luthor’s face; he was
calm but the storm raged inside him ready to explode. “I. Had. Told. You:
Brucey is miiiine! I… warned youuuuu…”
Luthor was heavily sweating but tried to be composed.
“I’m neither the one who took your boy nor the one holding him…” he gasped as
Joker’s sharp blade grazed his lips; Joker was shaking with wrath.
“Youuuuu handed him to THEM! I saw you with them in your office! You were
plotting for months to steal MY Brucey!”
Luthor just shook slightly his head to not cut himself; his eyes bulged feeling
the vibrations of Joker’s body foretelling his death.
“I…”
Joker clenched the back of Luthor’s neck and brought his mouth closer to the
tyccon’s face.
“YOU trapped him in your suite, tried to seduce him and when failed, YOU
attacked him, touched him with your filthy hands, kissed him, slapped him and
sent him to them! I watch the news, YOU know! Aaaand you know something? I
don’t like those who eye MY baby!” his eyes sparkled with mad but serious
enthusiasm. “Aaaand the punishment is DEATH!”
Luthor’s breath was ragged, his face drenched in sweat as Joker’s knife
twitched.
“No… Superman eyes your boy!”
Joker stopped his hand and tilted his head regarding curious Luthor who
encouraged drew a breath.
“Su-per-man?”
Luthor made a soft nodding move.
“He always carries your Brucey in his arms and his face glows…” he hissed like
a snake spitting poison. “I spotted him many times leaving the Manor” he
continued fervently seeing Joker’s mind moving rapidly. “Remember how he
stormed at the atrium when you held Bruce? How ashen his face was when you took
him with you? What he was doing at Wayne Manor other than seducing your boy?”
Joker frowned; of course he remembered. Surely that swollen buffoon stared
oddly his baby and indeed he was hanging around Gotham all the time. Now he was
more pissed! Maybe while he was in jail his spouse cheated him with that
anatomical rich asshole. Besides, looks some time beat smarts and personality
especially for a traumatized kitten like Brucey.
Luthor smirked at Joker’s thoughtful expression.
“You saw how devastated Superman was at the spot where Wayne was taken? I bet
he already fucked him.” Hs eyes glistened.
Joker cast him a lopsided stare under his curls.
“Do you want some Kryptonite?” Luthor sniggered.
Joker licked his lips and his gaze dripped blood; Kryptonite was easy to find.
“Nooope! I want to kill youuuuu!” Luthor instantly tensed. “Where they’ve taken
Brucey?”
Luthor closed his eyes as Joker’s blade grazed his groin.
“I told everything I knew to the cops!” he hastened to say. “They took him
elsewhere… I don’t know where!” he yelled. “I can help you kill Superman…”
Joker yanked his head and clenched more Luthor’s neck.
“Youuuu keep insulting meeee! I don’t need any help to kill, you dork!” Joker’s
blade flashed in the semi dark and Luthor screamed as his groin was sliced over
his penis. “That will stop your willy from dripping for Brucey!”
Luthor’s knees bent from the pain but Joker tightened his grip.
“And this” the bloodstained blade shone to the distant lights of sirens and
city lights. “For hiding my spouse from me…”
“I swear I don’t know!” Luthor cried.
Joker pierced him with his lucid eyes and pursed his lips.
“Tooooooo bad…”
Luthor’s eyes bulged in terror before shutting them expecting the final blow.
However the pain he expected never came as he felt a force sweeping away Joker
and toppling him to the floor.
The blade just refused to drop from Joker’s hand despite Batman’s bone crushing
grip on his wrist; the jester’s manic laughter made Clark’s mind throb. He
clenched his teeth and the purple leather screeched under his fingers; if he
was free to use his power Joker’s wrist would have been dust but he had to make
it in Batman’s style.
He hit Joker’s hand to the floor till the knife fell with a clang.
“Uuuuh! Batsy! Just when I thought you’d never come… You know that the loonies
are out of the bin? Uhuhuhuhuhu!”
Batman’s lenses stabbed Joker’s eyes but suddenly a knee sank to his groin at
the same time that a blade stabbed the armor and his stomach if he was a human.
He didn’t feel any pain but he had to react as a human so he jolted backwards
and Joker pushed him jumping to his feet in no time.
“Either you enhanced youuuur groin plate or your balls are of steel” he said
rubbing his knee and Batman glared at him rasping. “Aaaand I think youuuu
gained some weight… lots of it! Anyway, I like busty boys second to Brucey of
course…”
Clark rolled his eyes admiring Bruce’s patience to listen to all these
nonsense.
“You’re going to jail…” he growled exactly like Batman.
Joker bowed slightly his head and pouted his lips.
“Without foreplaying? Youuuu disappoint me, sugar… What about that threesome we
were talking about?”
Batman growled and stormed at him.
“Now we’re talking! HAHAHAHA! Oh! Daaaaarling! Youuur punches….Uhuhuhooo!
That’s what I call foooreplay!”
He took Batman’s punches in hysteric delighted laughter and Clark felt
disgusted, fed up already by this madness: he had to restrict his strength to
not kill him with a hit and wondered how Bruce managed to do that so offen.
Luthor overcoming his initial shock and the previous terror that paralyzed his
legs jumped from the vehicle and fell on the ground as the chains and the
bleeding thwarted his moves.
Joker stopped laughing and looked at Batman.
“Sorry to interrupt but…how old are you?”
Batman halted puzzled.
“Because you’re taller than our last meeting…and meatier” he stated in
incredible seriousness but suddenly “HAHAHAHAHA! You’re still developing,
Batsy?”
Clark’s eyes widened under the lenses and Joker giggled.
“Youuuuur mom-my didn’t tell you that vigil thwarts growth?” he asked
innocently and began tittering again.
Batman pressed his lips and punched him again; Joker yanked his head and lifted
his index.
“Noooot that I don’t appreciate youuuuur…hmm…cajoling but I have some oooother
more urgent things…like finding my lawfully wedded wife and live happily ever
after…”
That stabbed Clark like Kryptonite; he tightened his clench on Joker’s lapels
lifting him off the floor.
“You’ll never get Bruce…Wayne” he hastened to add in Batman’s growl.
But Joker’s wicked eyes narrowed.
“Sooooo…I might get that threesome after all! That boy attracts super-things;
super heroes aaaand” he gestured his head to himself “super…hmm…hunks!”
“You’re going back to prison and you won’t ever again bother him!”
Joker shook his head twisting his lips.
“I doooon’t think soooo…” he sang.
Clark’s guts clenched from Joker’s tone and a blast came to affirm his fears.
“TADAAAAAAA!” Joker erupted. “Now I think you’d rather save those poor people
yelling for help than play with me.”
The visible part of Clark’s face distorted in rage as Joker looked at him under
arched in mock innocence eyebrows. But he wouldn’t let Joker like this: he
jerked his head and butted the clown who collapsed immediately and Batman
jumped out of the van.
Officers were taking Luthor away but had halted shocked looking at the burning
floor of the opposite apartment building where people screamed for help. Some
officers already ran there to help, Jim Gordon bleeding and bruised had left
the paramedics and limping was giving orders to his officers.
Superman stopped the urge to take off and fly to the building and instead
pulled his grapple gun, shot a cable to a gargoyle and left the cable lift him
up until he reached the burning floor and surged inside.
A fraction of second before he dived into the river of fire to save two kids he
heard the hiss of two blades and then the cries of two cops who went to arrest
Joker that wasn’t unconscious. Joker’s nasal laughter towered the chaos of
different nightmarish sounds.
“In the end, Bru-cey will be miiiine! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA! Remember thaaat!”
Joker’s nasal, joyful voice shrieked among the flames’ growl but Superman
couldn’t return to catch him because the kids were crying desperately and the
flames were surging at them.
He grasped both kids and burst outside covering them with his invulnerable body
that still felt the heat and the pressure. He dived to the void because Batman
could do this, shivering in the thought that a vulnerable human being without
superpowers – Bruce - did that risking his life every night.
He gave the kids to the paramedics and shot his grapple gun again to get inside
the building thinking what he had done wrong and realizing that he hadn’t hit
Joker as hard he should to knock him out: Clark was used to knock bad guys out
easily with a blow yet tonight he was Batman and he had to restrain his
strength to not raise suspicions – so he misjudged his hit and Joker just
pretended the unconscious. Unfortunately, Clark with the certainty of his
Superman days didn’t check Joker’s vitals to make sure and now the madman was
again free.
He wanted to scream from frustration but among the thick smoke and the raging
flames he saw Ironman carrying an old couple; their lenses met and it was as if
their real eyes locked.
“We messed things up, right?” Batman growled.
Ironman gave a slight nod and flew outside.
“We managed to stop the hostage situation in Arkham without casualties but
still some loonies escaped and now they’re on the loose”Tony informed Batman
through the com as he gave the elders to the paramedics and stormed back to the
building.
Firefighters had already begun battling with the fire and Jim Gordon unfazed by
his broken ribs and ankle ran around leading his men.
“Joker had set bombs to the Asylum…I defused them but after the first two
blasts brought down half of the high security ward.”
Clark heard Tony’s flat voice as he rushed to take the whimpering young woman
from the collapsing living room aware that Tony headed to the last person
trapped inside the flames.
He held the semi-conscious woman in his chest but he halted on his tracks
startled from the voice coming from the open TV.
“Baaaad news?” Joker lowered his head and made puppy eyes. “I have moooore: in
a minute the bomb goes BOOOOOOM!!! and I’m not out of this fine estamblishment
to tell my moron servant to defuse it…”
Clark’s eyes widened seeing footage from the holding cells at MCU, the night
Joker escaped – of course: the security cameras. He saw Harvey shaking his
head, his eyes panicked. He unlocked the common metallic bars and opened the
door.
“See?!” he yelled at Joker. “I did my best!”
“Damn!” Batman cursed in Superman’s voice but thankfully nobody noticed.
“This is your preeee-cious, incorruptible DA!” Joker’s nasal voice shook the
burning TV and his face filled the screen. “To save his thug father – he hid
that little dirty secret from you, huh? – freed a terrible criminal” he
gestured to himself “condemning you and your people for saving his father…” His
lips touched the camera shooting his video and licked them. “That’s what I
caaaall self sacrifice, huh?”
A pre-recorded video…
Clark’s mouth stayed agape as the flames silenced Joker’s voice when he
remembered the woman in his arms. He jumped to the void, his head throbbing as
if he was a human being, a question flashing:
Where are you, Bruce?
 
He was exhausted: that dominated his paralyzed body and hyperactive brain.
Exhaustion surpassed even the drumming dull pain inside his skull and the
throbbing of the bullets. He knew about exhaustion but this was something new,
struggling to erode his iron control over his brain. Even now in sleep he had
to be in constant vigilance yet fatigue was undermining his effort: the
concussion and Joker’s cocktail allied with Crane’s poisons.
He clenched his teeth even in sleep: they wouldn’t manage to break him… A
sweet, soothing melody echoed in his ears and he knew it was his mother’s
lullaby and with the realization her enchanting perfume wrapped his entire
existence… He felt the familiar distant softness of the bed in his room, the
warmth of the blankets and the love emanating from his mother’s presence
ensuring him that he was safe to let go and sleep…
Tony was challenging him arching his eyebrows mockingly; his teen face glowing
with amusement at his expense. Bruce fumed and felt his cheeks getting hot - he
might be eight years old, six years younger than Tony, but his friend wouldn’t
jeer him.
He stormed at him and tackled him to the floor, baring his teeth but the older
boy taking advantage of his bigger body managed to roll him under him. Bruce
thrashed to slip from his grip.
“Easy, tiger!” Tony’s benevolent slightly smug smile flashed and his eyes
glimmered  locking with Bruce’s and then regarding him with love and something
different… something that made Bruce’s heart pound faster with uncertainty,
curiosity and worry but it was Tony and he cared for him. He trusted him; Tony
was his best friend.
Tony’s lips were above his face, so close that he felt his hot breath that
became uneven as the older boy placed his lips to the corner of his mouth
inhaling deep.
He almost  jolted feeling Tony’s hands touching his belly, his ribs; shivered
unaware of what was going on and just stared at his best friend’s face with
trust - Tony would never harm him.
But then Tony’s loving eyes flashed wild and the gentle touch of his lips
became rough, capturing his mouth as if he wanted to swallow him and Bruce’s
guts clenched as his friend’s hands clawed his tender flesh bruising. He
groaned but Tony just made his ministrations faster and greedier and Bruce’s
groans became whines as the older boy’s fingers played with his soft nipples,
always kissing and biting his lips and rubbing his pelvis on the small pelvis
under him.
Something hard and demanding pressed violently his groin and Bruce gasped, his
own breath as crazy as Tony’s but from panic. He didn’t understand but he knew
he didn’t like it and wanted to stop.
“Tony, stop....” he pleaded with him trying to find Tony’s kind eyes while he
could only see his raven hair. “Please, you hurting me…”
Tony rose slightly and cupped his face and he was so small and frail in Tony’s
dark, frantic, jeering orbs.
“You’ll like it, Bruce; believe me.... I’m your friend, huh? Just relax, will
you?”
“But you scare me, Tony…” he whimpered because the hard thing in Tony’s groin
pressed him more. “I don’t want… stop.... please…”
Tony let his head fall abruptly to the floor and despite the flaffy, fat carpet
it pained and his eyes filled with liquid because Tony always protected him and
now he was causing him pain and terror. And Tony didn’t care that he was
crying.
Hot hands rushed under his pants and began groping, squeezing and searching his
body while teeth grazed his neck; he was drowning, he couldn’t breathe and his
face burnt.
“Stop!” he cried and in his panic began punching Tony’s back fisting his small
hands.
And then Tony rose, his face distorted from rage and slapped him sending his
head to loll to the side before slapping him again. His cheeks hurt but more
hurt his heart and his tears streamed to his face; Tony grabbed his hair and
gritted his teeth.
“I know you want it so shut the fuck up, you brat!”
Bruce was now sobbing uncontrollably but Tony didn’t care; he grabbed his waist
and turned him on his stomach and Bruce felt numb, paralyzed from the terror of
what was coming because he was sure it was bad.
“Please, Tony…Don’t....” he stuttered among loud sobs.
His heart was kicking his ribs painfully when he felt aggressive hands open his
button and fly, lowering in haste his pants and underwear and then the shaking
hands brushed his naked buttocks and pinched them evilly.
“Luthor was right…Soft like butter…” Tony sniggered and Bruce wanted to die.
He heard Tony opening his own zip and lowering his clothes. And then his thighs
were clenched and stretched wide so viciously that Bruce whimpered.
“Tony, I’ll scream for mom!” he cried warningly because he loved Tony and
didn’t want to lose him from friend but this was too much…
Tony’s palm covered Bruce’s mouth muffling his sobs and whines. His body
trembled from terror and in anticipation of the worst.
“You’re gonna scream, kid but you gonna like it!”
And then the worst pain he ever felt pierced his body from his butt upwards,
foreign flesh impaling him filling his insides and it was too much stretching
and grazing him. Bruce was screaming inside Tony’s hand, sweat covering his
entire body and tears flooding his face. It was a nightmare - he knew it was,
Tony would never, Tony did never...yet the pain was real, nightmarishly real
shattering his waist as Tony pushed violently, in and out, in and  out -
endlessly, mercilessly....
He was convulsing, his body too small to contain that and Tony yanked him using
his palm and glued him to his body to push harder, his other hand stroking
Bruce’s soft penis.  And then Tony’s moves became frantic and his grisps more
painful holding Bruce still; a hot liquid  burnt him stinging the wounds from
the friction and fluids ran inside his thighs along with his own blood that was
dripping all the time.
Suddenly, the door opened and his mom stepped inside, her face distorting from
disgust and horror as soon as she registered the scene.
“Thomas!” she yelled. “You! Get off my son! Go to your room and you’re off!
Filthy brat!”
Tony gathered his clothes in haste and left the room; Bruce remained slumbed on
the carpet in awful pain, crying, sobbing and convulsing uncontrollably trying
to understand and wishing his mommy to hug him and whisper soothing things to
him making the pain go away.
He heard his mommy’s light footsteps coming closer and along his daddy’s but he
couldn’t raise his head to see them; he was ashamed and that made the knot in
his throat burn.
But his father grabbed his upper arm and heaved him to look him in the eyes;
Thomas’ blue eyes were flashing with rage and his mouth was clenched.
“You filthy slut!” his hand jerked in the air and fell crushingly to his
already bruised cheek.
A new wave of tears streamed to his face and he cowered to his father’s arms
only to be slapped once again, this time left to crush to the floor where he
instantly huddled up hugging himself.
“You disgust me, you little whore!” his mother’s soft voice, horribly distorted
spat at him and his heart shattered in thousands shreds.
It was a nightmare, Bruce cried to his young self, only a dream, little guy:
Tony would never use you and your parents…our parents would never treat you so
cruelly… But his adult eyes were tearful as the kid’s and his heart drummed
painfully, his breaths restrained; the same excruciating pain in his lower
spine.
He opened his eyes and the room was dark and in a mist, behind the curtain of
his tears; he saw a blurred huge figure looming over him, staring intensely,
his features obscure – a primitive, numbing terror clenched his heart but he
willed his brain to reason with what he saw. Two blood-red eyes flashed in the
dark and Bruce could discern the shine of silver spikes where hair should be
and two horns. The thought that he didn’t have the Black Butterfly with him and
he was completely paralyzed almost panicked him.
“Call me and I’ll save you, Bruce… You need only to call me…” the voice was
soothing, suave.
Bruce realized that the figure was immaterial, unable to approach him except in
a ghostly form: Ubu must be protecting the place. He shut his eyes and gritted
his teeth. Never! He shouted inside his head aware that Bagdana could hear him.
“Always a shameless weeper! Some warrior you are…”
This voice wasn’t Bagdana’s; Bruce opened his eyes and saw another giant
standing over his bed with crossed arms.
***** Chapter 68 *****
Abundant light strack violently Bruce’s eyes as the gigantic shadow pressed the
switch on the wall; it was like a spear shattering his skull’s bones and
impaling his brain. He shut his eyes thankful that he wasn’t paralyzed in that
part of his body.
He re-opened them to see Bane regarding him mockingly; of course he didn’t need
his vision to know the identity of his visitor, he knew too well the sound of
his former trainer’s footsteps and his labored breath. Though the giant’s eyes
were the only visible part of his face Bruce could see his snigger there.
The giant sat at the stool left beside the bed from the latest session with
Crane. Bruce saw with a frown Bane’s hand stretching to touch his cheekbone
where he felt moisture from stagnating tears. He jerked his head to escape
Bane’s oddly gentle touch but the giant had already wet his fingertips with his
captive’s tears and was looking at them intrigued at first and then shaking his
head disapprovingly.
“A pussy - in every respectable aspect” he snarled.
Bruce turned his eyes that sparkled angry.
“Does your boss know how degrading your opinions are about women?”
Bane’s smirk reflected in his dark eyes.
“Only for the men behaving like weeping women when they’re supposed to be
warriors” he snorted. “Of course you were never a man or a warrior” he shrugged
one shoulder “you were good only at backstabbing your lovers because you knew
you didn’t have a chance against them in fair battle.”
His jeering eyes glistened locked with Bruce’s still eyes.
“A true whore.”
Bruce had no mood or strength to let Bane get to him.
“I didn’t need to backstab you to beat you: on the contrary, your Mistress shot
me in the back to stop me. So” he arched his eyebrows “both of you don’t now a
lot about fair battle.”
That stinged and the giant tensed; his eyes icy cold - Wayne dared to insult
him and Talia and the worst: he was right in what he said.
Bruce could read his former trainer’s thoughts and emotions: he developed that
skill to prepare himself for Bane’s violent grips during his training. 14 year
old Bruce had already much experience in people gained through pain and terror
so he immediately understood his giant trainer’s dislike if not hatred.
He couldn’t find a reason why a stranger hated him so much to put him in
painful exercises that Ra’s definitely didn’t approve and brutal grips that not
only caused him considerable pain but also threatened to incapacitate him
again; always with scolding and insulting remarks that would have hurt him if
his heart wasn’t already too wounded or too frozen to notice.
Of course after his kidnapping from Falcone he came to be used to be hated at
first sight so it was the opposite that surprised him…
Bane arched an eyebrow.
“You believe that you’re a… winner?” he snarled and opened his arms
suggestively over Bruce’s disabled body.
Bruce regarded him unfazed from the sarcasm.
“Your life is restricted in the narrow limits of win or lose and you fail to
notice the bigger picture” he answered calmly.
Bane leaned towards his face.
“You act the wise, now? To persuade yourself that you’re more than a slave and
a whore… Personally, I believe that being the slave and the whore of great
people it’s actually too much for you” he hissed and his eyes were over Bruce’s
proud eyes.
“I’m neither a slave nor a whore” he retorted calm but resolute. “You should
have understood that after so many years yet you insist on feeding your ego and
your Mistress’ arrogance. Actually, you’re her slave” his eyebrows arched “and
with your own will.”
Bane gritted his bare teeth and the thin, dried skin over the lower half of his
face stretched. He yanked his hand so fast that someone else wouldn’t have seen
it but Bruce was prepared for the giant’s massive hand fisting his hair and
stretching his neck painfully. Bane’s lower face was so close that Bruce felt
his manic breaths along with listening to his horrible rasp.
“You don’t know what I share with Talia and a whore like you will never learn!”
his teeth rattled yet Bruce’s stare was unyielding.
“And I’m not interested to learn.”
He gasped as Bane jolted on his feet gripping Bruce’s hair carrying him along
to his ascend and then dropping him violently back to the mattress: the
bullets, the lashes and his abused head screamed urging him to moan but he
gritted his teeth - he wouldn’t give Bane the satisfaction. Especially since he
could hear his former trainer’s asthmatic breaths a sign that he was losing his
self control which forced him to inflict pain to his captive.
“The only thing you deserve is to be in a dungeon chained and dying through
every torture League knows! Talia is too tolerant with the murderer of her
father. She could take everything she wants from you easily.”
Bruce looked at him.
“Easily or difficult she won’t get anything from me.”
Bane snorted and his eyes widened mockingly.
“Everyone managed to take what he wanted from you…” his smirk was audible but
Bruce didn’t slip to Bane’s lack of control – in this aspect of training Bane
couldn’t reach Ubu or Ra’s.
“I imagine how embarrassed you felt in front of your Mistress during our short
confrontation; that made your hatred for me flowing unchecked. And your
Mistress as Ra’s cherishes the ability of control over oneself.”
Bane suddenly began pulling the various needles from Bruce’s body and throwing
them to the floor; his eyes flashed with rage and something else familiar that
made Bruce tense and his guts twist. Worse when Bane’s eyes filled with glee.
“Ra’s knew how to choose whores; his mistake was trying to make an honorable
warrior out of you giving you weapons that destroyed him.”
“I’m not a whore; Ra’s took advantage of me in every possible way. But I don’t
expect from someone as blinded as you to see beyond your narrow poisoned
world.”
Bane sniggered.
“Seven months and you forget what you are, believing that you’re a Prince; of
course that stupid idea fed your sick ego all this time you were plotting
against Ra’s Al Ghul – a sneaking, puffed up whore who thought that deserved
more than his overused asshole: someone must remind you of who you really are.”
He grabbed the blankets and uncovered Bruce regarding arrogantly his dressed in
the training robe body. Bruce frowned.
“What are you doing?” he asked keeping his calm but with a blood-freezing
feeling settling over him.
Bane sat at the mattress and brought his covered face over his captive’s.
“As your teacher I must help you see the truth and what’s best for you” he said
slyly.
“No” Bruce answered tranquil but determined, his eyes perfectly still gazing at
the giant’s gleeful eyes.
Bane laughed and indifferent turned to Bruce’s waist to untie the belt of his
tunic; Bruce’s spine froze and his eyes watched Bane pushing the cloth off his
torso, lifting him to gather the fabric and throwing it to the floor exactly as
if he were handling a doll. He wished it was another nightmare induced by
Crane’s drugs yet the huge hands that grabbed his waistband felt very real as
the evil chuckle.
“Stop!” he shouted at him and he was surprised from his voice’s steadiness.
For a second Bane stopped and locked eyes with Bruce before lowering his loose
pants with a swift move.
“I don’t think so, Batman!” he leered at him and then studied his naked groin.
“Nice…”
Bruce felt his cheeks burning from humiliation and fear like when he was just a
kid without a plan and motivation to withstand his use in order to reach his
goal.
Bane brushed tenderly Bruce’s cheek, his eyes relishing what he saw but the
younger man bit Bane’s fingers when they came to caress his mouth.
The giant took away his hand and Bruce gritted his teeth piercing him with wild
eyes.
“Don’t touch me” he growled.
Bane erupted in cruel laughter and without any warning he straddled Bruce who
tried in vain to wake his paralyzed body.
“You can bite me when I touch your lips but when I do…this?” he said amuzed and
groped his testicals.
Bruce’s eyes widened not so much from the pain which was crushing as from wrath
that struggled with panic for the upcoming.
“Let go!” he snarled and his head jerked wanting to do what his body couldn’t.
Bane arched his eyebrows.
“But why?” he mocked. “This is the only reason you’re still alive…You should be
thankful that I appreciate that too.”
Bruce’s eyes flashed proudly although his tormentor clenched more viciously his
privates; he managed to not grunt but his heart pounded and he had to recruit
his will to decrease the beat.
“I don’t think you have any saying.”
“Really?” he squeezed Bruce’s penis. “Do I look like I don’t have a saying?”
Bruce ignored the sweatdrops and the shivers in his completely naked body and
set his jaw: if only he could enrage Bane to forget what he was planning to do…
“Exactly! You look like a mutt waiting his Mistress’ commands to jump to the
air.”
Bane’s eyes reflected the current of rage that hit his body; his hand jerked
and slapped Bruce sending his head to loll on the pillow with blood slithering
on the corner of his lips. But Bruce preferred that.
And then the giant began discarding his own clothes angrily fast always staring
at his captive’s face. Bruce struggled to control his raspiration and heartbeat
as his body refused to hear his urges or its own panic. Bane sniggered reading
the signs.
“Weak anger…You know everything about that, huh?” his smirk was audible. “And
of what is to follow…It’s your nature after all…”
Bruce could feel Bane’s fully erected length and that increased the misty
dizinness of his head and the boiling nausea; yet he refused to see. Images
from that time Ra’s punished him by sending him to beg Bane to use him pounded
his skull.
“Exactly like then, huh, Bruce?”
And then Bane began unfurling the black silk covering his mutilated face till
Bruce saw his tormentor’s horrendous, almost mummified face that still didn’t
bring him aversion but a stupid – in this case – compassion.
“Now it’s exactly like then…And still you’re not averting your gaze; you’re not
disgusted from what you see because you know you’re more disfigured than me.”
Bruce shook his head: the lack of lips that left his straight, white teeth
exposed, the dead, yellow-brownish thin flesh that stuck to the bones of his
face from the cheekbones and down, as if someone had sucked all the meat…It
wasn’t that disfiguration that haunted his flashbacks but the jeers and the
use.
“If I am so disfigured and you detest me so much why are you doing this?” Bruce
asked.
But the throbbing of his demanding penis didn’t let Bane any mood to answer; he
wanted to rampage that delicious naked body underneath him that unwillingly
convulsed from fear. The realization that Wayne’s body betrayed him by
manifesting its terror learnt from years of abuse and rapes only increased his
length’s hunger. He rubbed Wayne’s breasts, roaming his taunt, perfectly tuned
muscles that he had contributed to being sculpted. Wayne belonged to him as
well.
His massive body fell on Bruce like a lion on its pray, his maimed lips grazing
the soft neck biting and salivating trailing to the nipples as his hands
fondled bruisingly his ribs and abdominals, his captive’s discontinuous breath
and loud heartbeat firing his arousal.
Bruce closed his eyes trying to breathe normally but his paralysis along with
the raging migraine didn’t let him: he brought in his mind Clark’s gentle
ministrations, his kind, caring, glistening eyes as he made love to him…
He gasped as he felt Bane’s teeth biting his underbelly downwards heading for
his groin; the cold hands were groping his buttocks and tightening their grip
to stretch him.
“Get off me!” he growled and jerked his head upwards.
Bane stopped his conquering and rose to stab an evil, mocking glare at him. A
faint smile stretched the bare line that was his mouth.
“Make me!” he hissed enjoying his captive’s awareness that he couldn’t; he saw
the younger man’s rosy, beautifully shaped lips pressed in anger that unable to
burst against the assailant would transform in self hatred.
He wanted to conquer those lips with his maimed mouth, to tear them apart with
his teeth, to make Wayne realize how trashy he was even if he constracted a
hollow dark figure to cover his cowardish.
Bruce knew a hundred ways he could struggle and incapacitate his assailant yet
his body was immobile just feeling Bane’s aroused body, his sweat and his hard,
enormous penis already leaking. As Bane’s teeth and saliva attacked his lips he
clenched his teeth.
Bane stormed again to capture his mouth and Bruce jerked his head butting his
assailant’s forehead right on the bridge of his nose with every ounce of
strength his despair and anger gave him.
The pain surged his head like a fire tornado and his eyes got fogged but at
least Bane staggered backwards startled and stunt by the hit’s unexpected
force; Bruce felt the huge mass on him move slightly to fight off the dizziness
and then a hammer crashed on his face sending his head lolling on the other
side of the pillow till a second punch sent it to the other side. His eyes
darkened and he felt every drop of the blood that spurt from his nose and
busted lip.
But Bane grabbed Bruce’s locks and yanked viciously his head forcing the
younger man look at him; his eyes glistened with malice as he muffled Bruce’s
efforts to struggle.
“Go ahead” he hissed “make Crane’s job easier!”
He pushed Bruce’s head on the pillow and left Bruce to walk slowly to the bench
from where he took a pair of handcuffs and rope. Bruce although in a thick
cloud and with his ears buzzing to the rhyme of his throbbing headache watched
the naked giant’s movements frowning.
Bane grabbed Bruce’s wrists and cuffed them to the front.
“You’re so much afraid?” Bruce said undeterred to him. “I’m paralyzed.”
Bane swept with his palm the blood on the bridge of his nose from Bruce’s blow
and hooked the rope to the chain between the handcuffs’ rings. He pulled the
rope upwards stretching Bruce’s arms to tie the rope to the headboard.
Bruce’s armpits screamed from the violence of the move but he pressed stubborny
his lips.
“But you still feel…” Bane sneered as he finished the knot “so I’ll maximize
your discomfort.”
Bruce was seeing the giant’s shaved chest above him and the still hard length
that was dripping on his belly. He closed his eyes disgusted and reopened them
just as Bane looked at him.
“Stop that” Bruce growled.
But Bane cupped his jaw and dived in his face licking and biting Bruce’s soft
flesh while his hands ran hastily the paralyzed body ending at the buttocks.
“You’re enchantingly beautiful as every evil being…”
Bruce shook frantically his throbbing head feeling the cold hands stretching
him for Bane’s waiting length but as much as he tried Bane wouldn’t stop. Bruce
tried to calm his aching heart and stilled his eyes knowing that his former
trainer would sense it. Indeed, Bane’s manic eyes regarded him with arched
eyebrows his hands continuing to spread him.
Bruce inhaled deeply.
“I know you prefer torture me…” he tried to reason with him if urging someone
to torture you was reasoning.
But Bane smirked with his teeth rattling and with a swift, violent push and
without any preparation thrust deep inside Bruce who bit his tongue to not
scream. He had experienced excruciating pain during his use from adult men
while a young child and now the pain was similar since his body was completely
paralyzed and unable to prepare somewhat to take the invasion.
“That’s true…” he pulled slightly out and thrust immediately again “but I know
this is the worst torture for you…” he thrust deeper and stronger relishing the
bulged vein in Bruce’s neck stretched from his struggle to swallow his groans.
“And I really missed you, whore…”
Bruce jerked his face away from Bane’s mouth and horrible dried flesh but he
fisted his hair and forced him to take the rubbing of his disfigured face that
seemed desperate to feel something though Bruce knew that it was dead except
from pain. As desperate as the cruel thrusts in him that wounded his already
vulnerable flesh.
“It’s so nice inside you…” Bane mumbled and nausea burst out of Bruce’s stomach
to his constricted from the giant’s grip neck. “That’s your only excuse to be
left alive… Kiss me!” he yelled.
But Bruce stared at him defiantly though he was aware of his ridiculous
position.
“Never!” he snarled feeling the blood slithering from his nostrils and lips.
Bane stretched more his neck to the point of breaking almost cutting the air
supply ; he immobilized his captive’s face and rubbed his ruined flesh on
Bruce’s soft, hot lips.
“That only time your lips touched my face it felt alive…” Bane breathed keeping
thrusting in him as his rugged face searched demandingly the touch of Bruce’s
lips. “Without pain… revitalized…I want to feel that again….” he said between
his gasps.
He remembered that day when his compassion for Bane towered his disgust and
horror...
“It’s possible you have the talent of your father or healing abilities you
don’t know yet” Cassandra’s voice echoed.
“I feel stronger than ever" Clark had told him.
Bruce had chuckled.
“It’s your psychology.”
Clark tapped his nose and then caressed his swollen lips, Bruce kissing his
firgertips.
“Lucius’ exams confirmed it…”
Bruce jerked.
“You told Lucius?!”
“Sssss…Of course not.” He chuckled “You said I’m your painkiller and you’re my
healing sun…”
Clark’s bright smile warmed his frozen body.
Bane’s teeth grazed again his lips and the reality came crashing back to him;
being bare naked in front of his enemy, his legs spread wide, the excruciating
pain from Bane’s enormous length inside him, the sense of Bane’s flesh on his
face violating him in a second way. Clark seemed so far away…
He bit harder his lips as Bane’s hands that till now groped his buttocks
suddenly grabbed his thighs and lifted them to wrap around his hips to push
harder and deeper.
 Bane felt the contact with that body charging him with an insatiable thirst, a
blast of energy that couldn’t be contained. And as his captive’s body twitched
from pain and disgust that Bruce vainly tried to cover behind his eyes’ defiant
sparkle, something urged Bane to punish him more.
“You bastard…” Bruce shouted through clenched teeth and some groans escaped.
Bane was impaling him hard, every thrust reaching deeper scratching him more,
his tied hands moved in the frantic pace of Bane's drilling skinned from the
metal; his heart trembled in his chest and his migraine raged. He couldn’t even
fist his hands to battle the pain. However he’d stand this: his entire life was
enduring… Clark’s sweet face came to his mind to help him but only worsened
things: he couldn’t bear thinking about Clark right now - his purity and beauty
made this even uglier and filthier.
Bane laughed evilly.
“It’s exactly as when you were eight years old, huh? The pain, the weakness,
the shame…”
And then Bane’s hot liquid filled rushingly his insides stinging the wounds and
mounting Bruce’s dizziness: at least, it ended. But to his body’s and mind’s
utter protest the crushing grip tightened again and he was flipped on his
stomach, the rope that attached his hands to the headboard wrapped around his
wrists making the tightening harder.
Bane set Bruce’s knees on the mattress and grabbed again the younger man’s
stuck out buttocks to stretch him and invade him. Bruce closed his eyes trying
to keep breathing among the stampede of cruel thrusts; his face crashed into
the pillow and dragged painfully along.
“Who was your first, whore?” he snarled. “Your daddy? Or that loser Stark?”
Bruce gritted his teeth; the pain from his suffering spine flooded his brain to
mingle with the migraine. He tried to not remember but his sadistic mind
brought him the feeling after Clark fixed him and his guts clenched in the
realization that Bane could destroy everything. A particularly deep thrust made
him groan feeling the same pain as before Clark healed him hoping that the
sounds of Bane’s roars and the slapping of his flesh on Bruce’s would cover it.
But the giant cackled loudly.
“Why don’t you call your super-buddies to save you since you’re worthless?”
“Call yar daddy to save ya!”
“You’ll scream as a hooker!”
Bruce clenched his jaw though it was almost a lost cause as he felt his body
being torn, blood dripping and semen slithering his sweaty thighs. His body was
flailing trying reflectively to escape from the abuse but he couldn’t guide it
to fight.
His tormentor’s powerful hand clenched his wet hair and yanked his head arching
his back. Bane lifted him stretching the rope and his arms to their limits. His
teeth scratched his ear.
“Do you feel like a warrior?” he roared and pulled entirely out to thrust
deeper and harder, his testicals whipping Bruce.
Bruce’s eyes flashed defiantly and his teeth gritted to Bane’s wrath who
stretched more his captive’s neck.
“Do you feel like a winner?!” his roar was louder and pierced Bruce’s skull
like an iron spear. Bane of course held a grudge against him because he
defeated him in front of his Mistress.
Bruce gathered his strength and breath and glared at him.
“You feel defeated - that matters…”
Bane roared outraged and crashed him to the mattress digging his nails in
Bruce’s pelvis speeding his thrusts satisfied from the sounds of ripping flesh
from Bruce’s insides and the trembling of the trapped body.
“Scream, you filthy slut!” he punched Bruce’s abdomen and felt the younger man
losing his breath and gasping, trying in vain to recoil since Bane’s grip was
unrelenting.
That punch was as painful as his childhood’s beatings and Bruce squeezed his
eyes to fight that too. Bane was drilling him changing his ankle to make his
thrusts worst, panting and roaring triumphantly as his climax approached.
Suddenly, his face was cupped by two soft hands which took his head off the
mattress; he looked behind his heavy eyelashes and stray, wet locks framing his
moist eyes; immediately his stare and body tensed.
Talia smiled benevolently and Bruce jerked away startled only to provoke a
cruel thrust from Bane and the tightening of her grip. Her lips almost touched
Bruce’s.
“You can’t imagine how breathtaking you are when used against your will…” she
breathed slyly. “Your disgust…your despair…the pain…the terror…” she pouted her
lips “the tears…the realization that you can’t avoid your destiny and nobody
will help you…”
Her long lean fingers caressed Bruce’s humid face.
“I used to watch my father fuck you” she narrowed her eyes. “You were so small
and skinny in comparison to him, a child, your weak, bonny legs unable to
contain the great man between them…but father was infatuated, thrusting in you
as if his existence was depended on that; enchanted by the scared, on the verge
of tears boy. So charmed that he never sensed that I was watching…Fascinated by
the way he conquered the immature, weak body that writhed in pain, despair
and…hope that this was different than any other use he suffered; fascinated by
the boy’s eyes…”
Hearing that she watched Ra’s Al Ghul use him sickened more Bruce’s stomach and
he tried again to get away but she was strong and he drained.
“So defiant…” her lips brushed Bruce’s and though he just failed to escape her
thrashed again making her hands clench his cheeks bruisingly to still him.
Her tongue licked slowly Bruce’s cheek from the jaw to his cheekbone, her eyes
never leaving his captive’s sparkling eyes absorbing the unique shimmering of
the emerald star inside the stormy sapphire seas.
“I used to hate my father for his obsession with you but now I understand him…”
she opened her mouth and kissed Bruce’s cheek.
“Stop it…” Bruce panted.
A gleeful smile curved her face.
“You never said that to Ra’s…He was hope for you and you believed that your
body was his fair reward…” she nuzzled Bruce’s lower cheek and sucked his aroma
moaning. “Cinnamon, orange, ibiscus and something heavenly human” she smiled
“or not entirely human…: I never smelled a more intoxitacing perfume…”
Bruce’s body was relentlessly pounded and his frantic heartbeat made his
breaths constricted; Talia cupped again his face.
“Your Mistress can be generous: I can make your torture less; beg me and I’ll
tell him go gentler on you.”
Bruce was angry: he was in torturous pain, his head throbbing, his eyes
watering, humiliated but he wouldn’t let her brag.
“You’re not my Mistress!” he said with the amount of strength he was left and
he was sturtled at how steady and proud that voice was: Batman came again to
his aid.
Talia’s grip on his jaw tightened; anger battling with fascination in her cold
eyes. And then Bruce felt her hand cupping his irresponsive penis.
“Don’t!” he growled in a low but determined voice and jerked his head away
recruiting his tired will.
He saw with the corner of his eyes Talia’s eyes flaring up irritated and Bane
clenched viciously Bruce’s hips to pound him as punishment. And Bruce clenched
once again his teeth to not scream.
Talia smiled satisfied and took advantage of her captive’s pain to fist his
hair and bring his face to hers.
“Someone showed you how it is to be taken gently, carefully, softly, huh? For
that now you suffer more…” she said compassionately and then smirked. “You’ve
already brought Superman to your ass, right Bruce? You’re amazing…”
Bane’s pace became frantic till his nails stabbed Bruce’s pelvis keeping him
still for him to thrust deeper one last time ejaculating with a roar. Bruce’s
eyes closed and Talia kissed lightly his lids.
“Poor baby…I see how hard it is to withstand your use after Superman made
tender love to you…” she said mockingly kind. “Look at me, pet: don’t let me
believe you’re afraid of me” she brushed his eyelids and pecked his battered
nose.
“I don’t give a damn about what you believe” he snapped; he was exhausted but
he managed to control his ragged breath.
Talia pouted her lips and draw a breath, arching an eyebrow.
“The only reason Superman was so soft to you was that he is weak: you’re
weakening him, killing him; your body is his death” she hissed.
Bruce opened his shocked eyes only to pretend that he didn’t know anything
about that.
“He didn’t make it on time to save you because he is already too weak: your
charm added to the effect of the substance father applied to you speeding his
end” she continued relishing Bruce’s shock; Talia nodded and brushed the stray
locks from his eyes. “He never truly loved you, pet: he was under a powerful
addiction craving to fuck you till ripping your guts out of your ass!” her eyes
became mockingly compassionate. “Which makes his weakness blessing, since had
he his real power he would have fucked you to death.”
She locked her eyes with Bruce’s hurt eyes.
“Suspend him” she ordered Bane who had rose glowing from satisfaction; her eyes
never leaving Bruce’s.
Bruce realized that his torture was to continue and braced himself; he must
endure, he repeated, as Bane untied the rope from the headboard and dragged him
to suspend him from a wooden beam on the ceiling. At least, he knew that
Superman’s feelings weren’t due to the substance or else Talia’s words would
have added one more torture…
He was hanged by his aching wrists that felt as being on the verge of being
mutilated and his body protested needing some comfort. Yet he watched calm
Talia circling him like a hyena admiring his naked, covered in sweat’s glow
body.
“You should be all the time naked, Bruce…” she whispered and her hand caressed
the stretched muscles of his torso up to his pectorals to end at his deltoids.
“Maybe I should consider it.”
“It’s not for you to decide” he retorted, his voice hasky.
Talia sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Look at yourself!” she gestured with her hand. “Your body is mine to decide.”
Bruce shook his head.
“You wish!”
Talia’s irritation was clear in her black orbs as Bruce’s determination in his
bloodshot eyes.
“So much stubbornness is really…arousing, pet.”
She untied the belt of her white silken robe and let the fine fabric slip to
the floor revealing her impressive body, lean but covered with perfectly tuned
muscles. She was completely naked her perfectly round porcelain breasts bulged
with her thick nipples erect.
“You like your Mistress, Bruce?” she asked seductively.
Bruce heard Bane’s constricted breath at seeing naked the woman he loved.
“Not in the least” he shook his head. “You won’t get what you want.”
“Really?” she brushed with her fingertips Bruce’s penis and then stabbed the
round shaped ragged capsule she held in the middle of his testicals.
Bruce felt the foreign little object pierce his tender flesh and as Talia’s
nails breached the capsoule acid liquid stung his testicals. Talia brushed
again his length.
She touched her naked pubis to Bruce’s groin, her hands feeling sensually his
taut, muscle bound thighs and then his round, protruding buttocks; her black
eyes sparkled locked all the time with Bruce’s: her smugness mixed with a wild
feeling of triumph she didn’t care to hide collided with his defiance and
contempt.
“I can totally understand all the men who crave for these buttocks…” she
smirked and cast a sideways glance to Bane. “Even my loyal warrior…”
Bane tensed; he hadn’t planned for Talia to catch him fucking Wayne though he
was sure that she knew that at some point he would. The moment he realized that
Talia had entered the room would have blushed if he wasn’t already too hot and
too engrossed in pleasure and triumph. And Talia wasn’t annoyed, on the
contrary, after so many years Bane was able to detect her arousal from the
spectacle.
He opened his mouth to protest but Talia tilted her head rolling her eyes
staring pointedly at his nakedness and his half aroused length so he didn’t say
anything.
Talia nodded arching her eyebrows and focused again on Bruce, her hot hands
rubbing dominatingly his ribs to reach his deltoids. Her eyes glimmered
appreciatively.
Bruce clenched his jaw, his discomfort enhancing from what he felt in his groin
which was similar with what he experienced due to Clark’s ministrations only
this time was gruesome and filled his guts with dread.
Talia grinned cupping Bruce’s flashed face her lips touching featherly his
before he yanked his head.
“I always get what I want…” she hissed and fisted Bruce’s semi hard length. “I
know you had it in you, Batman. They raised and trained you to serve and grant
heavenly pleasure to men but I’ll change that.”
Bruce felt his length rebel against his will and he gritted his teeth.
“You’re not a woman I’d ever touch!”
Talia chuckled and pumped his penis.
“Someone disagrees with himself…” she retorted slyly satisfied as Bruce’s
length responded hardening more. “I’ll have you with your own will after
Crane’s job is finished but for the time being he granted me the preview I
craved…”
Bruce yanked his head his jaw set determined.
“You’ll never have me with my will!”
She cupped his face firm but gently and captured his mouth in a passionate hard
kiss, her tongue battling with Bruce’s stubborn tongue for domination; her
hands carried away from the fire boiling in her veins that intensified by
Bruce’s resist stormed violently his back digging her nails to the taut muscles
and even in his lash wounds which during Bane’s onslaught was left uncovered.
Her heart was pounding fuelling her hands’ frantic search and her lips’ and
tongue’s stubborness to bow that man.
But that man wouldn’t yield and that thrilled her, more so because she was
aware that her father had never the pleasure to feel that untamed spirit bow to
his desire: Ra’s had Bruce’s co-operation granted, believing that the boy was
his from the start. His body never felt the strength of Bruce’s will writhing
under him refusing to subdue though his defeat was crushing.
Her breasts had bulged even more and her erected hard nipples brushed his
strong chest sending shivers to her spine and throbbing blood to her vagina.
Ugh! Her slave wouldn’t yield! She bit his lips enraged and tasted the blood
which was oddly delicious as his perfume; she fisted his hair and bent his neck
sucking the pulsing vein there while her other hand grabbed his hard penis and
led it inside her - the feeling elevating her heart and burning her vagina
making her teeth bite hard Bruce’s neck relishing the man’s tensing.
Bruce felt his penis inside her and wanted to scream, to stop that abomination
though the poison that settled in his testicals fuelled his length. Sweat ran
his face and entire body.
He gasped when Bane clenched his hips and spreaded him to thrust again in him
for the third time, scraping more his already suffering insides. His guts
twisted and his breath became uneven when with Bane’s first thrust his own
penis pushed inside Talia who wrapped her long curvy legs around his hips
caressing Bane’s thighs.
Bruce’s head was flooded with screaming pain and white vertigo, an outraged
roar blowing his eardrums as Bagdana watched unable to intervene; he felt on
the verge of fainting, the nausea ripping his stomach. But he couldn’t have
even this relief. He was crammed between them; his anus being stretched and
burnt from relentless friction bleeding more now from the scratches. He was
feeling his endurance flailing as Bane impaled him and his own length stormed
deeper making his captor breathe heavily and smile triumphantly, her ecstasis
visible in her black eyes.
Bruce fisted mentally his wrists and bit his mouth’s insides, his heart beating
too slow with crushing disappointment: after the night he and Gotham were free
he swore that never again will someone use him…
“What is it, Batman?” Talia breathed mockingly. “You’re not used to be fucked
by two people simultaneously?” she smiled and sucked his nipple licking his
stretched breasts. “Of course not… Each of your former Masters was too
possessive to share you…”
As Bane sped and Talia began dancing on his traitor penis Bruce tried to escape
his body as he was doing when still a kid - but he failed as then… Talia’s arms
slithered around his neck and her fingers tousled his hair as her lips trailed
his neck.
Bane deep in pleasure from what he was sharing with Talia - their joint triumph
- began biting Bruce’s back, hard, to bleed trailing upwards to mark their
captive’s shoulders. And then his eyes locked with Talia’s and she grinned
smugly to him.
“I told you, beloved, that he would take our pleasure to new heights…” she said
slyly kissing Bane’s marred mouth and tangling her tongue with his.
Their saliva wetting Bruce’s neck before both of them trailed his neck line
with their united tongues to kiss again right in Bruce’s ear.
Bruce was exhausted and his skull was exploding in hot pain: somewhere in the
distance he could see two kind, sweet puppy blue eyes filled with understanding
yet he couldn’t bear them right now when he felt Bane tensing to fill him again
with his fluids - those crystal clear eyes must not be touched by such filth.
And then Talia worked her hips and he realized he was to cum. But his body
spent its last drain of strength filling her insides and Bruce finally was
allowed to faint in merciful darkness.
Talia nestled her head to the crook of Bruce’s neck taking advantage of his
unconsciousness to nuzzle his cheek still panting from the wild shivers running
her body as she refused to let Bruce’s length out of her. She brushed his stray
wet locks out of his closed eyes and kissed his lids.
“I can’t wait for the time you’ll crave to worship me…” she breathed and
reluctantly unwrapped her legs, her thighs’ soft insides caressing Bruce’s in
her descend.
She picked her robe and wore it staring at Bruce’s heavily used body and then
at Bane as she lifted her long hair.
“Place him on the bed: I’ll send the servants to tend him.”
 
“You could just call me and nothing would have stopped me. I would have saved
you and burn to death your tormentors!”
The voice dominated his tired mind tormenting him more with his vibrating anger
and demand. Bruce wanted just to dive in non-existence, no stimulus reaching
him from his body and the world. He didn’t want to know anything, to feel
anything. But his demon was there, unable to reach him physically, to demolish
the place and take him but still aware of everything happening and speaking to
him constantly expressing his disappointment and wrath.
And Bruce just couldn’t answer him or just shut the doors of his mind to him in
order to get some peace. He missed his Black Butterfly: its warmth and sense of
security from things he couldn’t fight alone or with any human’s or super-
human’s help.
He remembered the night at the greenhouse and his body froze: how could he
consent to Clark touch him? Only the thought increased the senses his
torturous, humiliating use left. But with Clark it was so different…
“You know that you can’t rely on humans’ help…” the voice became suave, filled
with understanding and it was obvious that Bagdana before the youth’s pain
couldn’t maintain his anger at him or at what he thought Bruce was.
Suddenly, Bruce’s heart that till now was numb relishing the sleep filled with
agony, dread, hope and abandonment and he knew that this wasn’t his.
He saw a raven haired man with blue eyes looking towards him and his eyes and
face was distorted from agony and sorrow; he could see his reflection in the
sweaty man’s beautiful eyes but there wasn’t him. The man’s eyes reflected a
young woman - a gorgeous young woman with waist length hair bearing the unique
color of the night: the deeper black hued by dark glistening shades of blue,
her eyes two midnight blue sapphires shining with her love and fear for the two
young children the man hugged.
Howling sounds of fire, stones thrown and angry men cursing and threatening
invaded what was an ancient small house. And then the sounds became loud bangs
and he realized that those outside were breaking the door.
Bruce’s heart clenched and then bled because he knew that he was to be
separated from the man he loved and from the children; no, all these tormenting
his already suffering heart weren’t his but the gorgeous woman’s with the
porcelain glowing skin. The man was her husband and the boy and girl who looked
at her tearful in puzzlement, terror and love were their children and the
people breaking their house screaming curses were coming for her.
Her heart galvanized: they were coming for her but her loved ones will die
along if they found them here. She kissed desperately her children, then her
man locking eyes with him determined.
“You should leave now!” she snapped at him cupping his distorted in sorrow
face. “They want me but will kill everyone!” the language was odd but Bruce
could understand everything.
Her wild eyes saw his blue eyes filling with tears that streamed to his dirty
face from the daily work at the fields and her resolution faltered - the pain
in her chest like iron nails ripped her heart. She wished she still had her
wings to take them from there and get them to safety; where they could continue
living together. But this couldn’t be done: she had to dismiss her wings and
her nature to live with the man she loved and have his children - and never had
she regretted it even now she knew her death was near.
She cupped Cain’s hand that covered their girl’s head.
“Thank you for everything… Now go!” her voice had the ability of her past when
she ruled the night.
She watched them running, Cain’s eyes reluctant to abandon her even when he and
the children reached the back door leading to the fields; her eyes formed it
before her words.
“Goodbye, my love…”
Cain dragged the children outside at the same time their door broke with a
crashing sound; and then a stampede and men crammed their small living room
holding swords, spears and torches, their eyes dripping anger and blood.
Terror clenched her guts as a common human’s but although she had abandoned her
nature the lady of the night, the demon was still there steeling her. She
straightened her beautiful posture proudly and her mesmerizing eyes gazed cooly
at the blood-thirsty men behind long, thick eyelashes.
“What do you want in my humble home?” she asked calmly.
The men’s wrath subsided to admiration for the beauty before them; they were
goggling at her and she stared at them as the lady she was.
But then a lion-like man emerged from them and he was tall as a tower with grey
eangle eyes and in his hands held a curved shining sword that ended in a
scythe. He had a smug expression.
“Lilith, the demon of the night; the seductress of men and cause of all the
humans’ pains. You thought that nobody would find you?” he strutted till he
stood before her.
She regarded him calmly but proudly as the lady of a house.
“I don’t understand, sir.”
He grinned and jerked his sword ripping her cotton dark blue dress revealing
her porcelain shoulder and her glowing breast. The men gaped at the perfect
breast but their leader touched his sword’s point to the mark on her shoulder a
small but distinct leaf.
And she remembered when she was swimming naked at the river the hungry eyes of
a man gaping at her and her mark. Abel who had tried to seduce her. He was
enraged when she denied his advances and he betrayed her.
“The demon’s mark” he yelled and brought the blade to her soft neck. “I’ll save
humanity from your curse, demon!”
He fisted her hair and yanked her head dragging her outside to the filthy dust
road. Roars of thunders and rocks rolling the mountains crushing houses and
humans – cries of terror and pain – the creeching growl of fire filled the
night and she knew that Bagdana was punishing humans because she chose one of
them.
The leader of the men pressed her on her knees and she clenched her teeth angry
reminiscent of the days she could eliminate all of these jeering men just with
her breath. But now she knew that her end was near, the knowledge that her
beloved and their children will live warmed her heart.
She smirked to the lion-like man as he lifted his sword, her eyes sparkling
with the promise of revenge, of coming back to destroy his killing hand because
a demon even former could sense evil inside a human. And this man was evil like
her muffling his thirst for blood and domination in his bragging about
humanity’s salvation.
Her eyes found the blue full moon that at this moment emerged from the grey
clouds that hid it. She smiled fondly – the moon, her friend, when she crossed
the sky with her wings…
And then the man howled, metal flashed in the blue light and she felt a
horrible pain of metal tearing flesh before human life began leaving her body.
Her head fell graciously at the cobbles of the street and she could still hear
the cheering of the men who ripped the clothes from her dead body eager to
violate the dead seductress whom they were scared to touch while alive.
Her lids half covered her eyes; she was still feeling her blood being sucked
from the soil and willingly submitted to non existence. But suddenly the cheers
and jeering of the humans became cries of horror and excruciating pain and
Lilith sensed Bagdana’s wrath and fire melting her killers.
Her spirit was already uniting with the night and the moon but Bagdana,
powerful, invincible and…crying united her severed head with her body lifting
the naked body cleaned and glowing as ever. He howled to the night as a million
wolves together and the mountain near the village began falling to humans along
with rivers of lava.
He nestled her head to his shoulder and kissed her, believing that his breath
would revive her but it was vain and his insides were ripped to shreds, his
tears flowing to her cold face.
He rooted his feet to the earth and began descending to the underground caves,
his realm, hoping to keep Lilith forever with him there: sustaining her body
and finding a way to revive her spirit, her fire.
But Lilith’s body couldn’t stay underground, not after death: she felt sorrow
for her old mate but she wanted to always be one with the night and watch her
man and children…
Bagdana saw in despair the gorgeous body slowly turning to stardust and
hovering to the heavy underground air to elevate slowly but unstoppably to the
surface and then to the night – his love’s big love…
He fell the cool, perfumed breeze of the night caressing his hot, bruised
cheeks, easing the pain of his busted nostrils and lips; the moon and the stars
shone as if welcome him back erasing the pains, the shame, the angst, the
exhaustion…Bruce was free, flying as he always dreamt and he knew it was true:
he knew that these sensations were familiar.
“Humans will be the death of you once again, Bruce” Bagdana’s sadness stabbed
his heart “You denied your power, your wings, your immortality for them…”
Cain’s face changed into Clark’s “and they humiliated you, killed you…As they
are doing now…Let me save you, my love; let me punish your enemies; let me stop
history from repeating; let me give you back your wings…Your human friends and
the alien won’t save you…”
His agony vibrated his voice and Bruce really felt for him; he wished he could
soothe the pain of the hurt demon…But then he saw again the Cain’s sad face,
the despair on the children’s sapphire eyes, Tony’s puppy eyes, Selina’s smart
wink, Alfred, Leslie, Lucius…Clark’s caring eyes in agony whether Bruce was as
much happy as him…
“Your jealousy killed her” he whispered exhausted but adamant. “Weren’t your
outburst those men wouldn’t have realized her presence and killed her…She was
happy yet you wanted to possess her…”
Bruce saw Superman flying hasty towards him, his beautiful face flashed and
distorted in agony and...fear? Bruce was hovering and waiting till the Man of
Steel bounced on him and oddly his tremendous power was minuscule for him. He
registered the initial surprise of Superman that rapidly became rage as in his
clear blue irises formed Bagdana’s smirking gigantic figure.
“You won’t keep him! I won’t permit him to die because of you!”
Clark growled frustrated, his Star’s heartbeat falling to unconsciousness.
“Back off, bozzo!” he yelled desperate and Bagdana’s eyes showed realization.
“It’s Bruce!"
“You’re the one killing him!” Clark shouted and the demon dissolved.
Bagdana immediately disappeared to reappear where ninja clad men dragged his
unconscious form into a strange polygonic craft that wasn’t visible to humans.
He grinded his teeth and surged against them but something invisible thwarted
him, stopping his constant attempts till the craft took off rapidly.
Bruce figured why Clark didn’t make it on time: he saved innocent people,
probably Joker’s doing but he still was on schedule coming to finish the job -
because Clark certainly heard from Selina about Alfred. Bagdana delayed him…
His jealousy leading to his captivity and now he had the nerve to bother him
demanding from him to accept the demon’s rescue that would enslave him to
Bagdana.
The resting sleep he needed so much slipped away - not that it was as restful
as he needed - and every single pain and discomfort breached the walls of his
defences like tsunami. The drumming in his head aggrevated from Bane’s punches,
the constant feeling of the bullets stuck in his body, the healing lashes, his
wrists that although not physical restraint at the moment suffered from the
previous handcuffing and suspending; the throbbing from his violated anus
though it felt like someone treated his wounds there.
Which was certain since his body felt clean, a discreet pleasant scent brushing
his nostrils, the wounds in his back were dressed again and he wore a new
training robe. Also, he sensed again the needles that Bane ripped of him.
But the worse for him was the constant, pulsing, piercing pain in his lower
spine that was exactly as before Clark healed his injury; only this time he was
paralyzed and he knew that without the paralysis the pain would be much worse.
Bane must have ruined the healing and worsened the injury… Bruce doubted that
even without the paralysis he’d be able to act as before.
He sensed people around him and frankly he didn’t want to open his eyes and
confront them at the moment; he needed some time.
Which time he didn’t have… He opened his bloodshot eyes only to be welcomed by
Crane’s smug, crooked grin.
“Rise and shine, Mr. Wayne! You had a helluva night, let’s continue to an
equally fascinating day!” he mocked him and lifted the square mask.
Bruce looked at the torture tool and sighed which wasn’t just an act: it was
too soon…
As the needle pumped anaesthesia in his blood and the box secured enclosing his
face, Bruce clenched his jaw determined: they wouldn’t bend him; he’d endure as
always did and these hideous people won’t ever again harm anyone. Although he
hadn’t a very clear conception of time he knew that the moment was near…
 
Tony was fixing the last details in his dazzling new armor himself, reciting
Bruce’s notes - very detailed notes - about how the attack should be launched:
the steps taken before in order to eliminate their defences, the targets, the
exact time and the heroes who should be at each target. It was a meticulous
plan but Bruce let some room for maneuvers: Bruce trusted his and Superman’s
skills but he still was the one with the inner knowledge about the League.
Tony sighed; he was arrogant, bragging shamelessly about his genius yet he
couldn’t close his eyes to the fact that Gotham was in a mess. Bruce trusted
them his city and they failed… Okay, luck wasn’t in their side last night but
still…
The screen in the lab relayed GCN’s live coverage of Harvey Dent’s press
conference at the City Hall. Tony was casting fleeting glances there: the young
DA was composed and calm facing the wrath of reporters and citizens -
thankfully, Garcia was there too supporting his DA.
“I have already submitted my resignation to Mayor Garcia....”
“Now that Joker uncloaked you” a rude smartass cut him and Harvey raised his
hand.
“I submitted my resignation right after Joker’s escape - you can see the date
on the document…”
“As if you can’t change it afterwards!” another one shouted.
Harvey pressed his lips irritated but Garcia intervened.
“I affirm that - unless you don’t trust your elected Mayor…”
Some people sniggered: trust an elected Mayor in Gotham… Every corrupt Mayor
during Falcone’s rule and before was elected.
Realization showed over Garcia’s face and the Mayor raised his eyebrows.
“Anyway” he continued “Harvey Dent is the best DA we had…” he ignored the
sneering remarks “and his slip will be judged by the proper commitee but until
then due to the crisis the city faces and the peculiarity of his wrongdoing as
well as his immaculate previous conduct he’ll remain in his position.”
Angry voices filled the room and some jolted on their feet.
“The crisis is his doing!”
“He unleashed Joker!”
“To save his scum father!”
Harvey surged to the man who told that.
And Tony sighed rubbing his forehead.
Thankfully, reaching the culprit Harvey calmed down and just stared intensely
at him.
“You don’t know my father: Bruce Wayne is the only one with the right to judge
him and he knows that my father is a great man for that he gave him another
chance. Have you more inner knowledge about Falcone or have you suffered more
than Wayne?”
The man lowered his eyes and Harvey returned at the podium and Garcia patted
him.
Harvey looked his outraged audience perfectly calm.
“I know that what I did was dreadful and I don’t ask from you to understand
neither I’m trying to mitigate my crime. I just want you to know that my
father’s life wasn’t the only one at stake - Joker’s thug had a bomb in him
ready to explode and kill everyone on that bridge and the area.. Tony Stark
explained that the system broke down during his battle with Obadiah Stane…”
Tony shook his head: he made an announcement in front of the cameras last night
stating the facts.
“...but this doesn’t change the fact that I unlocked the inferior common cell
allowing his escape.  I assure you that I’m angrier than you at myself and I
would  have stepped down immediately if Joker was in custody and the city safe
but I want to do everything to ensure that this mad criminal stops threatening
the citizens.”
“You lied to us” the tone was somewhat calmer.
“What’s your real name, two-face?”
Harvey straightened his posture.
“I didn’t lie to you; and my real name is Harvey Dent. I was born Ares Petrou
but as every one of you Falcone’s reign forced me to do things I wouldn’t have
done otherwise. I left my home, changed my name to have a chance without
Falcone chasing me. But I was always honest to you in my purpose to assist you
and Gotham in our joint effort to stand in our feet. And I’ll keep fighting and
assisting in that effort even when I won’t be the DA.”
Tony cocked an eyebrow noticing above his notes how Gothamites calmed: Harvey
knew how to get to people.
His personal phone rang and he knew the caller’s ID; his dark eyes shone
focused on Fury’s projection.
 
Selina was hidden behind a thick row of bushes; she was tired from her endless
search after Rodney’s ‘bar’ closed. What was more exhausting for her was that
her efforts were futile: no trace of odd people in this area and some panic
wanted to slip to her considering the vastness of the Adirondack Mountains. If
Superman and Tony couldn’t find anything, how could she?
But she yanked her head and shook it to clear it from nonsense. Selina knew
that Bruce was still there, in this area and only she could find him because
his captors knew their allies’ powers and resources and took their measures.
But that bitch didn’t know Selina Kyle.
She heard heavy steps. Three lumberjacks had stopped for their break and
settled on fallen logs drinking coffee from their thermos. Selina felt the urge
to open her own thermo and sipp some too.
But their chat which at first seemed uninteresting suddenly lit a red alarm.
“Things are getting strange at those mountains” one said thoughtful.
“Mountains are always strange” the second answered.
The red beard shook his head.
“Not familiar strange; there odd people wandering the area - dangerous people.”
The third laughed.
“Aliens?”
The red head glared at him.
“No...But strange, not like us.”
The one who mocked him chuckled.
“But we’re the definition of weirdos…”
But the third nodded.
“I heard rumors but I haven’t seen anything here. Where you saw them?”
The other gulped some coffee and Selina held her breath, ready to surge at him
and make him talk.
“I was at Mount Marcy… near the lake ther’s unusual movement - people coming
and disappearing - and even the silence has a different sense, more spooky…”
The sarcastic dude sniggered.
“Fairies?”
But Selina was sure that they weren’t fairies. She crawled away and ran to her
bike, her eyes shining. Finally, she had a destination.
 
Wings flapping. He could discern and tell confidently though his ears buzzed
and a thick cloud covered his mind. He could even tell what kind of wings they
were: small wings, tough wings. He doubted if he had the will or the strength
to open his eyes after the second session of the day that left him so drained
that even nightmares never came but that flapping made his heart flapping as
well encouraged.
He hesitantly opened his eyes and thankfully the room was dark but his eyes
didn’t need to adjust to find the source of the cheerful sound. It was in the
corner of the ceiling, hooked there, its wings clinged to the small black body.
Bruce locked eyes with the bat and smiled fondly.
“You found me even here? Of course: underground is your realm as the sky…”
He said mentally as he used to discuss with his friends during his years in
that cell when he was afraid that someone would hear. And the bats understood
him and answered with their own way – later he learnt that these precious
animals use sonar to navigate so they could conceive the changes in his brain
forming the words… Bats were the Goddess’ birds signalizing her sword’s coming.
He was a bat; his entire life living between underground caves and the sky.
“I knew you wouldn’t abandon me…you would find me everywhere to encourage me as
you did then when I cried all the time and I wanted to die…” he closed his eyes
for a moment. “You sensed that I’m tired…”
“Bats are always your friends, child…” a deep, mystic voice shattered the
silence and Bruce tensed because he hadn’t sensed the presence which was
completely expected given his mental exhaustion worsened by his body’s
condition. “No strange at all…”
“Ubu…” he acknowledged his other mentor.
“You remember me.”
“Of course.”
As Bruce’s eyes adjusted to the darkness he could discern Ubu’s features; the
dark, solemn eyes of the man had a hue of warmth.
“What do you want?’’ he snapped. “To torture me with your more intellect ways?”
Ubu’s eyes remained expressionless.
“I think that our years of training didn’t manifest any intension of mine to
torture you.”
Bruce could retort Ubu’s contribution to his sacrifice to Bagdana but he didn’t
want to reveal his knowledge because the man would immediately notify his
Mistress. He didn’t want them being aware that he knew because that would
divulge that Bruce took care of Superman so to be healed from the effect.
“Only because Ra’s Al Ghul didn’t ask you to” he focused his cold eyes to the
bat. “Your new Mistress has other intensions…”
“She doesn’t want to torture you – your suffering isn’t in her intensions.”
Bruce stabbed him abruptly with his sparkling eyes; his jaw was set.
“Really?” he arched his eyebrows mockingly. “She shot me disabling me. And
don’t tell me you’re unaware of what Crane does to me following her orders?”
his voice was hoarse.
Ubu nodded slightly.
“She just wants to ensure your devotion.”
The younger man snorted.
“Ra’s was raping me to ensure my devotion?” he didn’t want even to think what
happened last night more so uttering it.
But Ubu’s face darkened as if he guessed.
 “If you co-operate your suffering will end, you’ll be happier than ever and
you’ll enjoy her favor. This procedure intends to make everything pleasant for
you: your unavoidable submission will make things easier for you.”
Bruce’s eyes flared up.
“Make me live in a world of hallucinations believing that my captivity is
actually my wish” his head began throbbing again but now he didn’t care.
“Unlike you I don’t want to be anyone’s servant or slave with or without cheap
tricks and brainwashing!”
Ubu didn’t get irritated; he placed tenderly his fingertips on Bruce’s forehead
and the pain smoothened. Bruce breathed easier: Ubu had that skill.
“Better now?” the man asked gently. “As when you were a scared child entrusted
to me to sculpt your body and mind.”
“Thankfully, my mind escaped your sculpting” the truth was that Ubu had endowed
him with some very useful skills.
Ubu’s lips formed a tight line and the older man lowered his eyes.
“I remember you crying from the pain the training caused to your tortured body;
remember when I was caressing your hair and saying you could stop?”
Bruce remembered how comforting Ubu’s touch was – warm, clean…- and the way he
talked as if he cared… Then he didn’t remember what Ubu had done to him
assisting Ra’s to summon the demon but now he did and the man’s hypocrisy was
infuriating.
“But you’d never stop trying… Your willpower conquering every hardle. You know,
child…I admire you…I admired you from then; the eternal fire in you was
dazzling my eyes.”
Bruce was angry; he knew what Ubu was trying to do. He considered Ubu wise, he
respected him but now he knew that he was just sly like everyone in that damned
League.
“Am I supposed to get emotional?” he spat. “You assisted Ra’s into eliminating
that supposed fire and now you’re working for his daughter to make me co-
operate to my own rape…” he gasped internally for the word “my mind’s rape” he
hastened to correct but Ubu’s eyes were shadowed from a deeper knowledge.
Bruce shook his head determined.
“You won’t achieve now where you failed then.”
“You can submit to her and in reality manipulate her to the right path;
together you and she can make the League what it should be. You can stop
injustice in your way.”
Bruce arched his eyebrows and snorted.
“You know she’ll never listen to another’s ideas – she will never go back to
her plans. Otherwise she’d already have done it with your advice. She just
wants a slave serving her wishes.”
“You’re two powerful spirits able to do miracles together.”
“The miracles Talia wants to achieve with me as her slave are monstrous and
I’ll never contribute to these. As a wise man like you should have done from
the start – when you realized what your leader was doing to a child.”
Ubu’s breath became uneven which surprised Bruce since the man was a tower of
tranquillity. But Bruce’s last phrase shocked Ubu’s entire existence stirring
the guilt for the crimes done to this young man by Ra’s Al Ghul; crimes Ubu
tolerated without doing anything to stop them and even now he was overlooking
again…
The older man stood and Bruce frowned seeing something shocking in his always
expressionless face: dread. Ubu left the room silently as he had come.
Bruce closed his eyes and shook his head; Ubu’s touch had soothed his vicious
headache but he didn’t want anything from him. He just wanted to look at the
bat leaving her place to get out in the night promising him that would come
back and Bruce hardly stopped himself from asking her to find his friends as he
did when a child…
 
It was night but Superman felt as if a century had passed from last night. He
was exhausted, frustrated, angry, miserable, scared: he was searching for Joker
while he should be searching for Bruce – Tony’s satelites and Flash’s efforts
not enough for him.
He landed at the cave in the Manor where he located Tony. The billionaire was
frantically pressing buttons and giving orders and Clark sighed because he so
much wished that someone else was doing that.
Tony turned to him and frowned; Clark knew that his face was shockingly
depicting his inner turmoil.
“I didn’t find Joker” he spat crossing his arms. “It’s…it’s impossible to not
be able to find that nutcase!” he roared but halted abruptly. “And…” he gulped
lowering his voice “I sensed Bruce’s suffering last night that didn’t stop even
today” he saw Tony ran his hands to his hair. “I can sense his suffering but
not his heartbeat or breath to locate him…”
Tony yanked his head; his eyes determined.
“Batman contacted Fury.”
***** Chapter 69 *****
Chapter Notes
     Happy Halloween!
Fury stood above a strange keyboard and was pressing keys frantically, waited
for a moment and then continued the typing. His face was tense with the wild
determination of his years at the army and the Special Forces. His good eye
shone in agitation and eagerness and the tattoo on his sculp bulged from a
throbbing vein.
Agent Hill knocked hesitantly the half open door of Fury’s office and after a
grunt from her superior she entered curious seeing the object on Fury’s office.
“We have way handier and more developed ways to communicate than this obsolete
machine, director” Fury was fond of traditional ways but this was too much even
for him.
Fury watched forming on the small screen the letters of the answer he waited
for and addressed his agent.
“This unlike the thingies we have here isn’t monitored and…it’s not actually
outdated: Stark constracted it to secure our intracommunication.”
Agent Hill crossed her arms and shook her head.
“Is S.H.I.E.L.D. under attack?”
“Uhu…” he mumbled never letting out of sight the small screen.
Maria frowned.
“By whom? Why the alarm isn’t on?”
He stopped typing and turned fully to her, arching an eyebrow.
“Because I’m the one attacking.”
 
Bruce Banner inside his vast, crammed with fancy equipment but lonely lab
watched on the huge plasma screen the different flashing diagrams representing
each of his prototype systems giving perpetual energy to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s
headquarters; in the second half of the screen were the diagrams controlling
the weapon systems he gave them: never seen or imagined before weapons of
electronic warfare, laser cannons, electrowave rifles, invisible crafts that
flew twice the speed of sound - like the one that took Bruce Wayne…
He sighed, clenching his fists feeling Hulk emerging. All his masterpieces used
by a monster organization that managed to fool them - fool him! - into working
for their sick purposes: kill those who opposed them, enslave people and rule
the world implementing their wishes with a bunch of idiots naming themselves
‘protectors of the justice and the world’.
He had no problem whatsoever to press the single button that would
simultaneously neutralize all of them - he had readied that system after
Batman’s revelations to save them time. It was like disabling his children but
he hoped that after the League was eliminated his babies would have the chance
to be used for what they were made.
The only thing that remained was Stark’s signal which he waited eagerly feeling
already the white lab coat stretching. His self control was the only thing that
held Hulk at bay and he was anxious to unleash the beast where Batman wanted
him to strike.
 
Superman didn’t know how to handle what Tony had just said and the
billionaire’s stare was understanding because he felt the same.
“Bruce is still in their hands…” he uttered what they both thought and Tony
pressed his lips.
“I know” he answered sighing. “But maybe as we cut their heads simultaneously
Bruce is found in one of their hideouts.”
Superman shook his head rubbing his temple.
“He isn’t! I scanned their hideouts from afar and…”
But Tony couldn’t stand Superman devastating his hopes. His eyes flared up as
he yanked his head towards him.
“The place they hold him is surely lined with lead” he spat. “They expect you
looking desperately!” He pressed his hair and lowered his tone. “We can’t
postpone it: the wheels are already moving, Fury is in constant contact with
the field directors all over the world and Dr. Banner is neutralizing their
defences. Bruce made the arrangements and this is his wish.”
Clark lowered his head, his hands clenching his waist as he sighed.
“I know… but I don’t want him facing their wrath…”
Tony paced the stone floor of the cave.
“If we operate perfectly they won’t have the chance: the League will be
erased!”
Clark nodded gulping his terror for his suffering Star.
“What we say about Batman not being there?”
“Lucius will use the holograms: Batman needed to protect Gotham; the League
always had a liking for the city…”
“Do you want me to contact Flash?”
Tony rubbed his goatee thoughtful.
“I don’t know the man… but I found some data in Bruce’s notes… for him… so
maybe we should trust him. Besides, we’ll need all the firepower we can get.”
“Are the Avengers ready?” Tony nodded. “They know what they face and what to
do?”
“I relayed Bruce’s information to them and their positions: it’s amazing how
well Bruce knows their individual skills and positioned them accordingly” he
arched his eyebrows. “And freaks me out thinking what will happen if they
convert Bruce to their side…”
Superman set his jaw.
“This will never happen!” he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists: that was
the reason he felt his Star’s suffering - Bruce would never yield even if that
cost his life… A shiver ran his back freezing him and suddenly a rush of
agitation seized him. “Let’s go!” he growled and his eyes had already the
familiar waves of red.
He stretched his fist in the air and took off as Tony activated his armor that
shimmered at the dull light of the screens.
 
Banner’s eyes flashed receiving Stark’s signal - at last! He inhaled deeply
pressed the button and exhaled as if a huge weight was lifted from his
shoulders. He didn’t manage to pull his robe off before his greenish monstrous
muscles ripped the cloth to pieces.
The League would face the only thing they could understand: pure force,
violence and wrath.
 
Talia stood before the whole wall screen with the world map that transmitted
update on every hotspot the S.H.I.E.L.D. and the League had; the red alert of
attack and top danger was flashing on every spot. Her hands were fisted at her
sides and her eyes spat fires staying still on the constantly changing data.
She had her teeth clenched.
Bane with his arms crossed, like a giant statue stood behind her watching
gumpy.
“They attack S.H.I.E.L.D.’s weapon storages and League’s bases simultaneously”
he said.
Talia narrowed her stormy eyes and cast him a sideways glare.
“Thank you for stating the obvious, Bane! Once again your contribution is
crucial…” she snorted. “I could understand an attack on the S.H.I.E.L.D. by
vilains…but… they are attacking League simultaneously and that indicates
knowledge of their connection” she pressed her lips. “How they know where
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s weapon storages are? The locations aren’t registered anywhere!
And how they know the League’s bases?” she lolled her head. “Also their
locations aren’t listed anywhere…”
Bane bowed his head and approached her.
“Except in Ra’s Al Ghul’s personal database” he cocked a suggestive eyebrow as
Talia’s infuriated eyes turned startled to him. “And who could have sneaked and
stolen it creating a copy to not take the prototype raising suspicions?”
“Father had a really complicated code: I don’t know if even I would have
managed to decipher it without him giving me the key-words” her eyes widened.
“Bruce could decipher it” her eyebrows arched in irritation and admiration. “He
has the intelligence and was trained closely by father for twelve years…”
“Too closely…” Bane snorted.
Talia fisted her mouth thoughtful.
“Bruce was studying my father all these years, that’s how he managed to
outsmart and defeat him. He stole the database, deciphered it all these months
and waited the right moment to launch his final attack.”
“Too bad he won’t be able to enjoy it or save himself!” Bane grunted with wild
satisfaction. “We got him first.”
But Talia’s eyes had turned to the screen, immobile in determination.
“He had planned it all along…” she hissed. “He knew that Luthor and Stane were
collaborating with us and we knew it but we didn’t imagine that his attack was
ready for after his capture. I thought his plan was to arrest us when we
attacked him at Palisades but he predicted my diversion drawing away his allies
and had a contingency plan ready: he knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. was our creation so
he asked his friends to implement his plan while we’d be too occupied with his
captivity. Damn!” she howled and hardly restrained herself from shattering the
screen.
Instead she touched some indications in the bench under the screen and the
world map vanished replaced by a flood of data that while perusing her face
became whiter and her eyes flashed more.
“Everything in the headquarters is dead: security, alarms, intra and intercom.
Agents and directors don’t do anything. Banner’s perpetual energy just stopped
being… perpetual and his weapon systems are dead! We don’t have any
intelligence from the League’s bases.”
“Where are the Avengers? Their job is to defend S.H.I.E.L.D.”
Talia nodded, realization dawning in her eyes.
“Fury talked the field directors and the agents into doing nothing if not
helping the dismantling of the organization.”
She pointed her index finger at a cluster of flashing coded updates from the
malfunctioning backup com.
“The Avengers attack the League along Superman and another...man? A flash that
beats our men” she gritted her teeth. “Bruce as Batman had contacted Fury and
the Avengers before his capture.”
Bane cleared his throat.
“Why not through Stark?”
“Because then Stark’s connection with Batman would have been obvious and Fury’s
suspicions proved. And Bruce didn’t want that. Of course Stark’s connections
and inner knowledge was helpful. Damn it!” she howled. “I planned to use
Stark’s genious and money in our favor and they turned it against me! And he
was playing with me when I called him!”
She panted; her eyes manic like a maenad’s.
“Bruce knew I’d feel triumphant, bragging that I won; he willingly let me
believe that the game had ended with the King’s capture but his lieutenants
were still playing…” she chuckled. “Bruce never played chess traditionally: he
preferred to change the rules taking advantage of the enemy’s flaws…”
Her eyes stayed unmovable on the world map that emerged again on the screen;
her fists clenching midair, even her breath to the minimum. The lights in each
spot flickered dangerously.
“You still have him at your disposal…” Bane offered slyly picturing images of
cruel torturing.
But Talia was deep in thought, her mind racing seeking ways to change the game.
“There’s only one thing to do…” she muttered to herself but Bane’s eyes shone
with hope and touched her shoulders.
“Torture him, mutilate him and send his limbs one by one to them…”
“I witnessed how passionately you fucked him…”
“I don’t need all of his limbs to fuck him” Bane growled.
She turned to him as if she had forgotten his presence; she resumed her gazing
at the map and pressed the key that would transmit her voice to the commanders
in each base.
“Use THE weapons!” she ordered calmly though she knew that the backup com would
delay. “Superman fights motivated by his hope of rescuing his… love but soon
he’ll realize how weak he is and he’ll retreat as the rest: if they manage to
survive when the power the ancient knowledge bestowed to the League gets
unleashed against them. Then Bruce will realize that even his intelligence
can’t defeat me.”
 
“Is this…?” Superman asked Ironman who blast with his new advanced laser
cannons the walls of the base located in Mongolia trying to draw out the rats.
The base was vast, polygonic and glistening in Gobi desert’s midday sun; it was
made of material that blinded satelites. They had already disabled the grenades
that fired automatically at the approach of enemies and the scanning – blasting
fire system that was a variation of Dr. Banner’s aggressive-defence system.
Not only had the League tricked Dr. Banner to trust them his creations but also
changed some of them making the weapons more gruesome and lethal. Yet Tony
having Banner’s data managed to disable the variation since Dr. Banner was at
the moment too green and too absorbed on demolishing walls with his bare hands
to assist or retreat due to some laser beams able to fry even a mountain of
metal. Thankfully, Tony hacked the system before it scanned Hulk.
Tony turned his gaze keeping his fingers stretched firing stunning waves
tenfold against the people emerging with guns from the base. Superman had just
landed and beat five people at once: last night he sensed Bruce in pain and
that flared up his punches that were smashing bones.
Tony saw what Superman had heard: a metallic giant at least 50 feet tall and
broad as a skyscraper. It walked with a terrifying easiness and was rapidly
approaching the commotion: thankfully, Bruce had warned them about that.
“Yep…” he answered to his comrade. “The metallic dude is none other than
Talos!”
Talos was the mythological copper giant that protected the sea coast of Crete
in ancient Greece. People considered it another legend yet those bastards found
the ancient archives explaining its construction and function.
And honestly – Tony made a pirouette in the air to avoid a volley of small
missiles Talos launched against him – the thing was impressive: amazingly alike
a man…well, except from the height, broad and…metal; and flexible; also, Tony
could detect that Talos had a sonar system to locate his enemies.
“I got him” Superman said sending with his elbow three ninjas at once to
unconsciousness.
Tony saw Hulk grabbing two ninjas on each hand and smashing them together
roaring like an oversized lion but as soon as the green guy heard the sound and
turned to acknowledge the giant his face tensed in new challenge and rage and
he began marching to meet his opponent.
“Hulk coming too” he informed Superman as he dived to avoid a rocket that
blasted another wall instead; he fisted his hands and lowered them to launch
two mega-missiles in extra small size against Talos. “Whoa!” Tony exclaimed
impressed as the giant avoided the two missiles with an impressive bending of
his waist and then with a twirl the second wave of Tony’s missiles. “You’re
kidding me, tin dude! You’re not supposed to do pirouettes with that size…”
Hulk was already punching the metal giant but Superman was thwarted by some
ninjas dizzying him with their tricks.
“You know, Supes: there’s no reason for you to hesitate. Hulk may be green but
he is not made of Kryptonite…” Ironman chortled.
Clark snorted and used Batman’s double legged kick to knock out his opponents
simultaneously and took off towards Talos – observing Bruce’s every movement
was very useful when faced with Leaguers: not that he goggled at the younger
man for educational reasons…
“I know, Stark…” he spat and headbutted the giant who staggered a bit but
otherwise stayed unmovable. “A tough guy…”
“Distract him till I destroy his operational chip from his heel!” he was glad
Bruce deciphered that little info from League’s logs (and mythology).
He felt like a modern Medea when he blasted the chip on the metallic heel
immobilizing the giant who with a punch from Superman and a forearm hit from
Hulk fell to the desert.
However the Leaguers were so fanatic that even their giant’s distruction didn’t
discourage them so the three heroes immediately engaged in battle with them.
Tony understood why Bruce wanted them in Mongolia: the abundance of sun
radiation would constantly recharge Superman’s batteries; Hulk’s mass and power
would distract Talos giving Tony the chance to destroy the operation chip.
As the last ninjas were slumped to the desert by Hulk’s punch that broke three
jaws at once, Superman’s blow of air crushing others to the last standing wall
demolishing it to debris and dust and his onslaught with bullets, Tony wondered
how the others were doing.
 
Natasha slithered like a really shapely shadow between the buildings
surrounding the area where the supposed private school stood. Who could suspect
that a legit private school was indeed one of the League’s bases? In a
populated suburb of Berlin.
During daytime kids of various ages flooded the place but in the vast premises’
other half where access was denied, the League trained its assassins, plotted
its operations and hid its armory; a lethal powerful bomb among them.
Natasha had accomplished many suicide missions alone and actually relished the
fact that the mastermind behind the operation trusted her and only her to
exterminate League’s base - exterminate was a heavy word - better neutralize
the weapons that weren’t Banner’s and couldn’t be deactivate from afar. Knock
out the guards and start a fire for the police to come and bust the terrorists.
Batman had given them the detailed blueprint of the base and its security
system beside Banner’s tricks. Natasha felt respect for the caped crusader:
they were similar: trained and exploited by terrorists but had managed to
escape and found their path in the other side of the board.
Dr. Banner had already disabled his energy system and the base was almost dead
when Natasha slithered through the odd dome over the roof. It was made of solar
panels to use the solar energy to maximize the bomb’s power - not that Berlin
had much sunlight yet these panels were very sensitive intensifying the given
energy.
She smirked; so the ‘little’ bomb wasn’t exactly nuclear as she thought -
Natasha expected as much from such weirdos as the League of Shadows. The good
thing about those panels was that they were easily breachable, especially with
her range of skills… that Batman considered worthy to be studied which both
flattered and troubled her because she didn’t like others know much about her.
Natasha climbed to the roof of a neighboring building - thankfully, a public
service with easily hacked security system - and dived to the void using her
parachute to reach the dome. Before landing there her stick located the
operational system and opened one panel for her to slip inside.
Black Widow fell gracious and silently on her knee, her red hair framing
loosely her face. She regarded her surroundings; the place wasn’t completely
dark, the stopping of Banner’s system activated a secondary system that was
sufficient only for a dull blue light.
Natasha had memorized the blueprints and knew exactly where to go and how to
avoid the patrolling guards. The bizarre bomb was her priority - the personnel
came after.
Indeed, bizarre bomb, she thought as her gadget ‘dazzled’ the entrance panel
that checked password and thumbprint. First of all, the bomb was a square thing
not bigger than a jewel case which made her doubt if this was actually a bomb.
And as she approached more her doubts intensified: it had a lid! Exactly as a
jewel case and she felt the urge to open it yet the flickering light on its
back side made her harness the curiosity.
Pandora’s box - that’s what Batman’s data called it. Viruses and bacteria were
inside ready to flood Europe’s air as soon as the League decided. Bastards! The
solar energy from the panels sustained the germs alive and intensified their
breeding.
 She had just to disconnect the cables and press a combination of keys -
invisible but for spreading a special dust on the surface. She did it and saw
an oval shaped space with numbers emerge where Natasha inserted the code that
immediately was accepted. As she was ready to disable the cables to kill the
germs, a sound like a howl startled her and the tall altar where the box lay
began ascending, the roof opening and the box shimmering with different colors.
Natasha cursed: they were going to unleash the biological terror. She inhaled
deeply and elevated her body to find again the cables - thankfully, the
connection wasn’t too complicated. She used her diamond blade to cut with one
jerk the cables that sustained all these germs alive - Natasha knew that a
couple of seconds were enough for the microorganisms to die.
The box stopped glowing and Natasha grinned wickedly. As she crossed the room
with back somersaults she dropped a handful of small bombs enough to draw the
authorities’ attention.
She stretched her impressive body between the burning room behind her and the
small army of guards before her.
“Finally!” she said gazing at them behind red locks. “A welcome commitee!”
As they stormed at her the Black Widow flexed her muscles smashing the heads of
the first two, breaking the jaw of a third with a back kick, her elbow sinking
in the belly of another.
She received some blows but Natasha didn’t flinch.
“For your fame, that’s lame!”
 
Captain America was already inside the factory looking base at Brazil’s Lencois
Maranhenses National Park; it was really outrageous how the League managed to
persuade the government to grant them those premises inside the National Park.
Another case of how League used S.H.I.E.L.D.’s status to achieve its shady
causes.
League’s warriors were worthy opponents but Steve was able to fight and yield
them especially since his opponents weren’t aware of his presence until too
late: he had already knocked out most of them facing small clusters dispersed
in the building.
He threw his shield and shoved a group of attacking guards to crush on the
wall; he caught his shield as it returned to him.
As he entered the central hall, police sirens flooded the surrounding area and
Steve saw a man storming at the beeping control panel to press some buttons.
Steve knew what these buttons did: the cannons ejecting gases that petrified
people.
Captain America jumped to cross the huge room and tackled the man who although
startled began fighting back. The man was highly trained and even Steve’s
enhanced powers weren’t enough to stop him and to his horror Captain America
saw a second man approaching rapidly the panel; Steve clenched his teeth,
chokeheld his opponent and sent his shield to carry  away the second man who
ended up unconscious on the floor; he knocked his opponent out with an uppercut
and ran to the panel to defuse the cannons with the virus Tony had given him.
As the Brazilian officers handcuffed the Leaguers Steve exhanged a quick
handshake with their captain and stood on his shield to fly to the next base
that S.H.I.E.L.D.’s agents were attacking.
Reaching the Great Victoria Desert at Australia positively shocked he saw
 agents engaged in battle with ninjas: each battle was impressive hand to hand
combat but agents didn’t hesitate to use their common guns. In the center, Fury
was literally butting heads with a couple of them cursing aloud while agent
Hill shot one ninja brandishing a Katana at Fury’s head.
Captain America landed with a long jump that took along two Leaguers. Fury
turned to him.
“It was about time!” he said and he nodded appreciatively to Agent Hill. “You,
super heroes, are not as reliable as advertised!”
Steve crashed his foot on the groin of one.
“I didn’t expect to find you here…”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything!”
“The weapons?”
“Disabled.”
 
Thor hit his hammer on the ground and the entire camp with the assemple of
pyramids shook. His long blonde hair half covered his eyes which shone
determined and angry; snowflakes raining him since even in early September snow
wasn’t unusual in Uralian Mountains. As people with guns and swords swarmed out
of the buildings he pointed Mjolnir at the weapon storage that exploded with a
howl raining his enemies with rocks and debris.
He heard and saw the cones of the pyramids opening and huge square shaped
objects turning towards him with a shuddering sound as thousand of roars. His
ears ached and then he saw color emerging from a thousand different holes. Thor
frowned; radiation.
He immediately raised his hammer and sent thunders to destroy the ejectors
before the radiation hit him or dispersed to the area. But he hadn’t time to
relax as his enemies swarmed him sending bullets and sharp star-knives against
him - idiots!
He began swaying his hammer plummeting clusters of them simultaneously but as
he turned to blast away the people ready to fire at him, two metallic giants
ran at him. Thor gazed at them and struggled to throw off him a ninja who
chokeheld him.
Suddenly, a blast took the weight off him and Thor knew it was Tony.
“Hm…” the billionaire mumbled. “It seems that Bruce was right about gods…”
“What?” Thor asked dumbfounded.
“Nothing…” Tony sighed. “I cover you, blondie.”
“Where’s Superman and Hulk?” Thor asked as he hammered the first giant; the
robot staggering but not shattering as it should.
The Norge god turned his inquiring stare at Ironman and gave a second powerful
blast on the giant’s waist hovering of the ground avoiding a metal fist
targeting his head.
“We finished our job and each headed to different locations to assist. Try the
Achilles heel…” he said and shot a missile from his wrist at the second giant’s
heel that sent the giant to crash on the Leaguers.
Tony blew the supposed smoke from his wrist and looking at the burried under
the giant Leaguers he sniggered.
“Ooops! This giant should be called Boomerang...”
Thor pointed the hammer at the giant’s heel as he ducked to save his head from
a lethal forearm. Blue energy hit the heel and the giant trembled as if hit by
electricity, staggered and finally crashed.
“Asgard picked the demon’s increased power” he said to Tony who stood startled
a Katana hitting his armor only to shock its owner with electricity that went
through every material.
“What?”
“Bagdana’s power is accumulated in one place and that means only one thing…”
“Bruce!” Tony exclaimed happy for finally finding something and dreadful
because the demon was closer than them.
Thor swayed his hammer along his twirl sending his opponents flying.
“Where?” Tony gritted his teeth with agony and sent laser beams and bullets to
disable the remaining enemies.
“At the Adirondack Mountains, Mount Marcy.”
Tony grunted frustrated.
“I’ve already combed the place and I didn’t find anything; Superman and Flash
the same…”
“Who is Flash?” Thor asked curious.
“Gossip later” he answered hastily. “You located Bruce?”
Thor pressed his lips and looked at Tony with his baby blues filled with
sorrow.
“I’m sorry, Tony but whatever holds Bagdana away from them and Bruce thwarts
also us.”
“Fuck!”
 
A red blur was cleaning the complex of small buildings forming a camp at the
outskirts of Washington; it was a supposed training center for pezonauts but
nobody ever realized that also it hosted a terrorist’s base.
Flash was able to deactivate the weapon systems that wasn’t already off using
the diversion of the Special Forces’ attack and now he was helping his
colleagues to clean the filth which wasn’t an easy job since those guys were
highly skilled. However Flash with a dazzling smile knew that they were
winning.
 
Superman had reached Mount Kilimanjaro at Tanzania: it was the place that Bruce
set later on the programming because the communication there was tougher so
they had the luxury of time. It wasn’t easy to send and receive messages in the
guts of an inactive volvano’s crater.
Bruce’s data said that the League had a weapon there that could cause great
earthquakes, tsunamies and eruptions of active and inactive volcanoes at a
range of thousand killometers. So he needed to be careful. He scanned the
gargantuan building with the conic shape: its base was round and broad
narrowing as it followed the crater’s ascending.
There were many people inside occupied with fixing the problem – as they
thought – with Dr. Banner’s energy supply and because of that ‘problem’ they
couldn’t be alarmed of his presence. The guards there weren’t too careful since
they were sure that nobody would ever suspect a terrorists' base in the crater
of a volcano.
He entered the building through the exit for the garbage as Bruce’s blueprints
showed: he wished he could enter in more traditional ways like demolishing a
wall or be lean and bendy like Selina to use the ventilation pipes: it really
stunk there! Yet it was better him than Hulk who made a stop at some other base
– Superman chuckled imagining the giant trying to contain himself there… Forget
discretion.
Clark had to silently knock out Batman-way some patrolling guards before
reaching the bottom level and the vast circular room where a small panel with
colored buttons at the center controlled the odd cylindrical metallic pipes
scattered perimetrical reaching deep in the mountain’s guts. A low humming
sound vibrated the room and a slight tremor.
Superman marched to the panel and brought courtesy of his eidetic memory the
diagram of the correct color combination to order the self distraction of the
pipes’ complex. The League hadn’t any self distraction option in the weapon’s
working system – they preferred to set it off destroying half the planet. The
combination of colors was Tony’s and Lucius’ finding with Bruce’s contribution.
He blindly trusted them but still if something went wrong…
He inhaled deeply and stared at the colors; this was a job for Batman not
Superman… Reflecting on the rare moments he fought alongside with Bruce; the
excitement of those moments only surpassed by the moments he made love to this
precious being that they took away from him!
He clenched his fist and controlled his breaths: you need to focus, a mistake
and millions of people will die.
He let the combination fill his brain and turned his vision into laser hitting
the right colors in the right order…The room trempled more intense and
Superman’s spine froze but it lasted only a few seconds before the low humming
sound stopped, signalizing the defuse of the weapon.
Sounds of uproar reached him from outside and he discerned Hulk’s growl and his
enormous fists demolishing walls; it was time. Superman turned his laser beams
at the pipes melting them.
It took some time but the Leaguers were occupied battling Hulk with the weapons
they were left with. He heard and felt a strong pressure and figured that Hulk
broke the roof and landed on the first level.
Hulk’s anger didn’t ebbed even after two battles with the enemy but it still
urged him to break them. The ninjas hammered his enormous body as groups but he
had no problem to sweep them with a casual movement of his hands and legs.
However they kept coming, recovering instantly and attacking again.
A group of guards dressed in military attires raised their automatic Taipan
rifles pointing at his back with bullets that exploded in the body.
Hulk in the combat’s fury heard only the low sound of firing and turned slowly
seeing the blur of the bullets coming rapidly at him. He was too massive to
evade them so he tensed his muscles to take the impact.
But there was no impact: a red and blue blur stood before him and Hulk saw the
bullets bouncing off Superman and falling to the floor. Hulk nodded to him and
both of them began smashing their enemies.
And then a roar came from the depths of the mountain and the volcano began
filling with hot lava burning the building.
“What’s that?” Hulk growled to Superman punching ten people at once.
“Lava” Thor’s voice startled both of them as the Norge god hit his hammer to
the floor knocking down the people storming at them. “We must take them out of
there before everything collapses.”
“Inactive volcano” Hulk growled.
“Bagdana’s ire” Thor and Superman answered together their stares crossing.
 
In different locations all over the world, where heroes, agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
fought with Leaguers determined to die but not surrender, the same blood
freezing roar echoed and everyone saw awed the earth swallowing slowly League’s
bases.
Flash was battling ninjas storming their lines along with Natasha who was
transferred at Sonoran Desert with the Avenger’s jet. They both stopped
startled and looked inquiringly at Tony who was blasting the round shaped
buildings.
“The demon’s ire…” Tony muttered hovering.
 
“The truth is, Mr. Wayne that you were never sure for your childhood; the
memories from your life before your supposed kidnapping were affected from the
traumas you suffered for so many years resulting to a blurred childhood
impression that it’s actuality is dubious. Probably nothing is true: you
idealized the life with your dead parents trying to find a haven from the harsh
life in Falcone’s custody.”
Crane whispered with mock sympathy and understanding in Bruce’s ear yet Bruce
could hear the satisfaction and see the glee in his eyes.
“Everyone is pampering the poor abused boy” he continued sarcastic “but you
know that what Falcone and the rest did to you was due to your nature.” He
shook his head. “Everyone knows that Falcone wasn’t a pedophile: he couldn’t
have become one all of a sudden” Bane nodded agreeing; he was watching
expressionless from the corner of the room his arms crossed. “And Ra’s Al Ghul
was a great man who wouldn’t fall as low as to fuck an innocent child” Crane’s
eyes shone. “You know deep inside that everything was your fault: they gave you
what you asked for, what you were used to receive…You were a trained slut even
before Falcone took you: Falcone, Chill and Ra’s Al Ghul knew that; they
perceived the signals you were trained to give to the powerful men in your
environment – first of all to your daddy -, signals to lure them promising
pleasure…And they just reciprocated…”
Bruce wanted to roll his eyes but just watched aloof Crane’s jabber. What
mattered to him was the mask that waited him along with the needles for the
third time this day…or maybe it was a new day. He couldn’t be sure about the
time but he could be about his body’s condition. And this condition didn’t want
another session.
The door opened and Talia marched inside immediately at Bruce’s bed, the moment
Crane went to the bench to take the needle with anaesthesia. Bane moved forward
and leaned to chokehold their captive for Crane to shot him but Talia stopped
him raising her hand that held something.
“There’s no need for your grip” she hissed “put that on his neck.”
Bruce’s eyes locked with hers defiantly and Talia gritted her teeth angry.
Bane’s gaze was gleeful as he gestured to the two servants to hold Bruce’s head
still.
Bruce could feel Bane’s whole body snigger as the giant attached the odd leash
on his neck: two thin lanes of transparent leather the one set under his jaw
and the other at the base of his neck leaving the rest naked. Bane tightened
the leash enjoying the skin’s sinking.
Talia’s eyes stayed all the time locked with Bruce’s.
“Tighter!” she spat to Bane who gladly tightened more the leather bruising and
constricting Bruce’s breath.
As Bane tied to the headboard the small chain of the leash her eyes sparkled
evilly.
“Don’t let chain for him to move his head! And bind his wrists to the
headboard.”
Bruce felt the violent dragging as the chain was attached to the headboard
carrying along his head constricting more his breath and cutting his flesh. Yet
his eyebrows arched sarcastic to Talia as if saying: your sophisticated ways
failed so you resort to your real nature?
Crane smirking returned to his ‘patient’ bringing the needle yet Talia raised
her palm sharply stopping him. She continued the staring battle with Bruce.
“No anaesthesia” she spat and leaned her head to the side. “Maybe this way he
appreciates the kindness his Mistress showed to him till now.”
Crane grinned widely.
“Now we’re talking!” he threw the needle to the floor and gestured to the
servants to bring the mask.
Bruce raised his head as much the chain permitted and glared at her proudly and
with what Talia thought was inner knowledge abput the cause of her behavior’s
change. His stare never faltered or lowered even as the box closed shutting his
head in and even when his eyelids were immobilized in the mask’s special
adjustments.
Crane dropped some liquid in Bruce’s orbs and every movement, voluntary or not,
ceased. However the scowling expression wasn’t lost from Bruce’s eyes.
Crane took his needles.
“Double the dosage…” Talia said and her teeth rattled; she was determined to
bend him and the foundations would be set tonight – the night Bruce believed
that would defeat her.
Crane frowned, his hands staying in the air.
“Again? I’ve already doubled the dosage…”
Talia crossed her arms.
“Increase the dosage as much as it takes for not damaging his brain.”
Crane pouted his lips: the woman was nuts. How was he supposed to sustain
Wayne’s sanity increasing again the dose so soon? The clever doctor was certain
that something happened that spoiled her mood and finished her patience.
He snorted discreetly increasing barely the liquid in the needles: the bruises,
bites and scratches on Wayne’s face, neck and wrists indicated the reasons for
her satisfaction some hours ago but now what had changed?
Bruce knew but he wouldn’t show any sign in case Talia suspected his plan and
wanted to provoke him to admit it before unfolding. As the drilling of the
needles filled his foggy brain he clenched his teeth and imagined he did the
same with his hands because the pain was more than severe and Talia gawked at
him thirsty for even a tiny hint of discomfort and pain. Until her face
distorted in a thick cloud vanishing as he counted the drops of liquid
poisoning his brain.
One…Two…Three…Four…
He knew how to count; he was a big boy now, five years old. He knew how to
count and did it very carefully because his daddy wanted no mistakes on
counting. Or he doubled the strokes…of his belt or the heavy paddle.
It was difficult to keep counting after the paddle crashed his buttocks for the
tenth time and his breath was cut in his burning lungs. He was screaming and
when his mommy pulled his hair to slap him, he just swallowed his screams and
just whined saying aloud the number.
His buttocks hurt so much and throbbed and when the next hit sounded like a
blast Bruce didn’t manage to hold his scream or his piss that tormentingly slow
dripped to his mommy’s carpet.
“You filthy scumbag!” she screamed disgusted and the voice wasn’t his mommy’s.
“Double the blows, Thomas!”
“No, please…I didn’t want…please…” he whined but his voice drowned in his
throat when Martha slapped him in the mouth her nails scratching his cheek.
“Which blow was that?” his daddy’s cold, cruel voice asked.
His heart began convulsing like a dying fish cutting his breath. He forgot.
“I…” he mumbled “please, daddy, I won’t do it again!”
He was spread-eangled on his stomach on the square table of the drawing room,
his face reflected on the shining surface; he was bare naked, thick rope
crushing his wrists and ankles binding his limbs to the table’s four corners.
His parents dragged him there, ordered him to strip and tied him to the table,
discussing in front of him how severe his punishment should be.
His crime was that he kicked Lex Luthor, the son of one of his daddy’s
associates, when he began groping him. The 14 year old Lex was outraged and his
father threatened to call of the deal for the insult so Thomas and Martha were
enraged.
“Too late, scum! Which blow was it?”
Bruce let his face sank to the wood closing his eyes hopeless. His mind
stopped.
“Ten?” he whispered knowing that it was wrong answer.
“Louder!” Thomas ordered.
Bruce sobbed but repeated.
“Wrong!” his daddy sniggered. “We start all over…”
Bruce felt dizzy, his body shivering uncontrollably, his whines coming louder
only to be muffled by the paddle’s loud bang on his screaming flesh. He howled
as his head jerked from the pain and then fell exhausted to the table.
“He didn’t count” Martha said icy “repeat the hit!”
His small body writhed as the paddle stroke his flesh, sweat spurting; he
fisted weakly his hands.
“O…one” he said before his time passed and he was punished.
“Louder!” Thomas yelled hitting the paddle with all his anger.
“Two!” he screamed panting.
“That was one, you idiot! Again!”
Bruce cried and sobbed and screamed when the wood crashed to his aching
buttocks.
“One!” he howled.
Two, three, four, five…twenty…He was whimpering and pleading and begging for
the pain to stop as his buttocks felt numb, burning and wet.
Martha leaned.
“Decide: either you’ll have your ass broke or you’ll use it as you’re asked
to.”
The door opened and Lex entered, strutting as if the Manor was his, smug and
smirking his eyes relishing the spectacle.
“I discussed with your father, Lex. You can use him and we forget what
happened: he was punished.”
Luthor’s hands brushed his sore, throbbing ass.
“I see it” he cackled and punched his buttock making his body writhe and a cry
leave his salivating mouth. “Now I think I can consider myself satisfied and
fix the deal with my father.”
He punched once again Bruce’s buttock and unzipped his pants. Bruce’s heart
raced more than before but he could only whimper as Luthor grabbed his hips and
thrust in him.
Bruce felt fed up; exhausted; enough with this; he didn’t want to remember more
of his use from others: no, no, no! It wasn’t a memory – that never happened,
his parents never sold him to others. His father never paddled him, his mother
never… He didn’t want to see more of him being used. This must stop already!
His mind ached from these scenes.
“It was as good as Stark bragged…” Luthor exclaimed satisfied zipping his
pants. “Mr. Wayne, I think that my father have many more deals to propose.
Thank you, Ms. Wayne” he said and left the room whistling.
He was slumped on the table, almost unconscious praying to faint for the pain
and the burning in his throat to stop. He was just sobbing as silently as he
could to not infuriate his parents. He understood that they were appeased by
Luthor’s reassurance and that eased a bit his flickering heart.
The relief magnified when he felt his limbs being freed from the tight ropes.
But then he was put in his still shaking legs and his stretched anus adding to
his swollen buttocks screamed sending a searing pain to his brain; he collapsed
on his knees panting between sobs.
The sweat had frozen on his body as the fluids Luthor left him but his mommy’s
grip on his hair was colder. As her beautiful eyes on his tearstained, hurt
eyes.
“Tommy, you deserve some reward after the shame you went through because of
that brat…”
Bruce shook weakly his head unable to vocalize anything; his daddy was sprawled
on the big armchair and his dark eyes were focused on his son’s back side.
Bruce felt sick; his heart rebelling on that because it couldn’t be true - none
of these could be true… The hand that clenched his upper arm couldn’t be his
loving mommy’s neither these eyes glaring gleefully at him as she hoisted and
dragged him to his daddy. The shape, the color of her eyes was the same but the
way she looked, the coldness, the evil wasn’t his mommy’s.
“You can use ‘im, Tommy” she said to his daddy with a voice that wasn’t hers.
“Yeah, Julliano, him ‘s a slut; use ‘im!”
He heard harsh laughter, a man and a woman - he knew their laughter. And the
drawing room became the filthy kitchen in Dolcetto with the thrown all over
pottery and the heavy food smells that made his always empty stomach to ache
from desire to eat something, anything. It was futile to rub with one hand the
greasy floor trying to clean it; sweat wetting his face and body as fatigue
weighted his limbs and hunger ripped his guts.
“For a dirty scumbag he smells nice” Julliano said with a smirk.
Signora Bruna stood above him, looming threateningly, her hands pressed on her
thin hips.
“Chill isn’t a fool an’ he bangs ‘im twice a day at least.”
Bruce began shivering on that and hastily but clumsy headed for the door.
Signora Bruna caught him on that and pushed the door to shut with a bang that
made Bruce close his eyes and tremble more.
Signora Bruna clenched his dirty locks and dragged him to the chair Julliano
was sprawled cackling through his cigar. He stretched his arms and grabbed
Bruce from the waist to place him on his stomach over the thug’s lap. Bruce
knew better than try to resist: Falcone had absolute trust to Signora Bruna and
whenever she blamed him instantly led to Bruce being whipped.
So he did the only thing he could do those four years: close his eyes and just
endure letting his heart throb. He gasped when Julliano slapped his buttocks
and his body jerked reflexively causing the thug’s snigger and a stampede of
vicious strokes to his buttocks. Bruce knew that his groans and whines made
them laugh but he couldn’t help it; the thug’s hands were big and heavy and
didn’t stop to give him a breath.
“He’s skinny but his butt is nice!” the man chortled and Signora Bruna nodded
urging him.
“Really nice…”
Bruce was drowned with his own saliva when his pants and underwear were
abruptly taken off his pelvis and two rough hands began fondling him.
“Stupendo!” he exclaimed. “Bambino! Culo!”
Cruel hands pinched his buttocks and opened them, a finger shoved inside making
the small body twitch and the anal canal clench trying to stop the intruder
even after four years of foreign things entering him.
“Please…” his low voice pleaded involuntarily because Bruce knew that the thug
wouldn’t pitty him.
The finger withdrew and Bruce breathed a bit easier shocked that his plead had
a result. But immediately he screamed his lungs out when something burned his
insides , the adults chortling madly; tears flowed his face as the stinging
became worse as the cigar’s lit end remained sanked in his anal channel till it
was withdrawn to be replaced by three fingers simultaneously. Bruce’s legs
convulsed struggling to take the body away from the pain.
The man flexed his fingers inside Bruce who whined and sobbed, his torso
writhing desperately till Signora Bruna pressed the back of his neck downwards
stopping the feeble resistance. Bruce heard the sound before Signora Bruna’s
rolling pin crashed on his buttocks, his legs trembling hopelessly and the
cruel woman putting more pressure as her boyfriend hit him again. Bruce
screamed and sobbed feeling the fingers inside him scratching the burning of
the cigar.
His tearful eyes rose desperately to beg Signora Bruna as he felt the man’s
groin bulge but he was met with two pieces of ice; brown ice, no, his
stagnating tears blurred his vision - it was blue ice. Very familiar blue, his
mommy’s blue.
He felt his daddy’s hand clench his hips and hoist him to sit on his lap, the
drawning room slowly replacing the kitchen. He looked scared at his mommy, his
sore ass screaming on the abrupt movement but then every other terror dissolved
to give its place to the ultimate terror as he heard the so familiar sound of
the fly being hastily downed and the pop of hardened length.
His daddy’s wild hands clenched his thighs and spread his buttocks and Bruce’s
eyes popped out of their sockets. It can’t be! It wasn’t true! Not his daddy!
He stared pleadingly to his mommy but her eyes were greedy, relishing the
spectacle.
“Please, mommy… It’s not true...Tell me it’s not true…” his tears streamed to
his face and his small body writhed from sobs. “I know it’s not true!”
But his mommy sniggered and her perfect teeth shone as his daddy lifted his
pelvis a bit holding him spread and Bruce felt the worst of all pains in his
life as he was impaled in one swift movement. And he screamed not only because
that pain was shattering his lower spine but also because it drained the energy
keeping his body alive.
He was panting, his heartbeat frantic, all of his pains raging with the center
being in his pelvis: he was tired of his entire life being centered in that
area of his body. He didn’t want to open his eyes to be again in the Manor’s
drawing room; Bruce was aware that it was another drug induced experience but
an embarrassing fear clenched him that if he opened his eyes he’d see the same
thing. Because he still felt very young and small and helpless and his buttocks
throbbing from paddling and his lower spine… No…
He knew that what he saw wasn’t true but it felt as such; he wanted to rub his
sweaty face and the stinging spots where the needles drilled his head but his
immobile hands were stretched, bound at the two corners of the headboard;
another punishment added to the leash pressing his neck and forbidding him even
the slightest movement.
The flapping of the wings! He opened his eyes exhilarated to see his friend in
the pitch dark. But his eyes met two other eyes staring at him; two burning
black eyes.
She clapped her hands and hidden lights illuminated dully the room but still it
was too much for Bruce’s tired eyes that shut again. Talia cupped gently his
face and pecked his nose, her dexter fingers caressing his eyelids.
“I was barbaric” she whispered sensually brushing the discreet but still
visible holes Crane’s treatment left.
“You were yourself” Bruce answered coldly locking his eyes with hers.
She pressed her lips.
“I let my anger get the better of me; father would have been disappointed. I
was infuriated.”
“And now you’re not?” Bruce arched an eyebrow, his breath still a bit rasping.
Talia crossed his cheekbones with her finger.
“You destroyed League’s bases, neutralized our secret weapons and revealed
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s true face.”
There was no chance he’ll admit anything to her. Though the time must be the
correct he couldn’t be sure that the attack had happened and Talia wasn’t just
trying to extract info.
“What are you talking about?” he asked puzzled and Talia grinned.
“You won, Bruce: so simple” she massaged the bare flesh between the leather
pressing his neck. “You made me believe that I had triumphed while you had
perfectly set your paws and lieutenants and their movements to continue the
game even after the checkmate.”
Her finger caressed his busted lips.
“I was outraged but now I consider things differently…” her hands ran Bruce’s
shoulders pushing the two pieces of the tunic to reveal her captive’s chest.
“You gave me another proof of the diamond I have in my hands” her hands brushed
his pectorals. “With you in my hands I’ll create a new, perfect, unbeatable
League; you destroyed just my father’s League: structures, plans and weaponry.
It always felt strange: I had only inherited his creation but I prefer to
create my own - that certainly will be absolutely better than his” her grin was
wide and her eyes sparkled.
Bruce sensed something ominous.
“You opened me a new path: to start something new, something beautiful and
strong. With you I can manage everything.”
“I’ll never work for you” he retorted calmly.
Her fingers squeezed his nipples.
“You already belong to me; it’s a matter of time before Crane breach your
mind’s defences” Bruce’s eyes sparkled angrily “and then your skills and your
infinite prospects will be at my disposal…even before your submission.”
Her hands progressed lower to feel his abdomens unbinding his belt freeing the
fabric that she pushed to the mattress.
“You’re fooling yourself if you believe that I will contribute in any way to
your sick plans” he could see in her eyes that indeed the others had executed
the plan successfully but they couldn’t find him.
She smiled and slipped her hands under his waistband drawing down his pants the
cool air hitting his groin - since they didn’t grant him underwear - and
gradually his legs as Talia threw the cloth to the floor.
“You don’t like people stripping you, huh, Bruce?” she arched an eyebrow
“Except for the super-freak. But this will change, Bruce; you’ll learn to
worship only me.”
Bruce’s eyes flashed defiantly.
“Never!”
“Says the man who sobs in his sleep!” she snorted rolling her eyes.
His eyes narrowed.
“Then what do you want with someone who sobs in his sleep?” he snapped.
She jumped and straddled him, grabbing his chin.
“He will never take you back!” she hissed. “They’d never find you here: Ra’s Al
Ghul’s secret base that only he and I knew” she grinned gleefully. “He hadn’t
the location in the database you stole and deciphered: it was his last refuge
located to never be found by anyone. They might have eliminated S.H.I.E.L.D.
and the League but they won’t take the most important: you! They gradually will
stop searching believing you dead” she cocked an eyebrow. “Usual for Stark…”
She took the rim of her velvet skin tight blouse in ruby’s color and stretched
her supple torso throwing away the cloth and revealing her taut, sculpted
abdominals with a diamond cobra pin pierced in her belly button sparkling with
every movement. Her rich, round breasts fell gracious to stand proud on her
chest. She whipped her waist long raven hair on her back.
“I have the time on my side…” she said and unbuttoned her black leather pants
taking it off of her revealing her naked pelvis.
Bruce pressed his lips because he knew what was to follow. His captor cupped
his penis and with the other hand stuck Crane’s capsule in the middle of his
testicals releasing the stinging liquid stabbing the capsule with her nails.
Talia’s torso bent like a snake forward, brushing his torso till her lips found
and captured his. Bruce averted his face as much as the leash allowed but she
didn’t let go massaging with longing that reached brutality the resisting mouth
struggling to invade the cavity with her tongue that met clenched teeth.
Her heart was pounding from the excitement of the battle and was leading her
thighs’ soft insides to rub his groin, her hands roaming Bruce’s ribs and
abdomens. She craved to enforce some reciprocation from her stubborn property
and the more she didn’t get the more the fire in her groin flared up sending
more blood to her eager vagina.
“I’ll create the most powerful, terrifying army of the world; with you…” she
rasped as she mouthed his cheeks.
Bruce frowned and glared at her: that threat towering the discomfort from his
groin’s forced awakening. He jerked his head to avoid her rich, hot lips
ignoring the sinking of the leash in his neck only for Talia to delve her
fingers into his locks and yank his head violently upwards to gain access for
her mouth to his neck.
“You won’t achieve anything with me…” he growled feeling his length rapidly
hardening aroused by Talia’s hips.
She moaned satisfied feeling Bruce’s penis twitching and throbbing, requesting
her body. She bit Bruce’s neck where the pulse was audible and the scent
richer.
“You thought that you could defeat me” she rasped between sucking Bruce’s skin
that definitely would bruise. “But I still have in my hands the key to gain the
greatest and most horrific power on the earth – a limitless ancient power.”
Bruce’s eyes widened and his body tensed but Talia trailed his chest with her
tongue to reach his breast and swallow his nipple.
“Bagdana will do everything to have sex with you again…” she mumbled playing
with Bruce’s nipple and biting hard to lick the drops of blood. “I can give the
ancient demon his mate whenever I want and ensure his allegiance…” she moaned
as her hands massaged Bruce’s abdomens, her vagina trembling uncontrollably
along with her sweaty body as she used her hand to rub Bruce’s length to her
clit.
“You’re nuts!” Bruce spatted disgusted from everything, his voice uneven as his
hips writhed to meet Talia’s hips. “You can’t harness a demon!”
She rubbed faster his penis to her clit panting and then led Bruce’s length
inside her biting harder his nipple inside her mouth, her hips shaking
uncontrollably on his length. Faster, as Bruce’s hips moved involuntarily to
thrust deeper in her vagina.
“He’s horny…” she moaned and gasped as Bruce’s hips shoved his length deeper
“he’s desperate to enter your body…Not that I blame him…” she reluctantly left
Bruce’s bleeding nipple and raised her torso to move her hips to maximize her
pleasure. “My father controlled him into paying for your use… Superman will die
as a result - he’s weak and your planned attack certainly drained him” she
gasped and moaned her nails digging his underbelly as the pleasure in her
mounted. “So he’ll be ready for you to kill him for your Mistress!”
Bruce’s eyes flashed burned from the rage for what his body was forced to do.
“You’re not my Mistress and you’ll never be!”
She smiled ecstatic and closed her eyes arching her torso to change the ankle
of Bruce’s thrusts, moving slowly as if mounting a wild horse, and clenched her
vagina to enhance the result. Her rich breasts hoped on her chest along with
her panting and her locks caressed Bruce’s abdomen.
“You’re a demon’s descendant bearing her mark…” she grunted and Bruce gritted
his teeth to not do the same as his penis was flooded mercilessly by sensations
that made his stomach sick but his breath uneven.
“I’m not!” he didn’t want her to know that he knew.
Her palms pressed his breasts and she leaned her head to lick his face from the
jaw to his cheekbone.
“Lilith’s distant grandson: an irresistible creature as her. Bagdana was her
lover for centuries and when she died he searched through the ages to find the
one with her mark, with her DNA.”
Bruce’s eyes stared at her as looking at a crazy but Talia was shimmering, her
vagina muscles continued clenching and unclenching over Bruce’s length.
“Father saw your mark when you were just a newborn and years later when he
talked Falcone into giving you to him for training, Ra’s summoned the ancient
demon and gave you to him for copulating” Bruce shook his head in refusal
feeling his body being milked mercilessly from Talia’s ministrations. “You
forgot everything because father gave you the Oblivion Serum but your body
carrying the DNA of a demon absorbed Bagdana’s entire seed…” her voice vibrated
from enthusiasm as her groin; her eyes savoring the shocking revelation she
believed. “You don’t need a womb to give me the offsprings of yourself and
Bagdana! I bet that if I take a tiny bit of your flesh even now I can have
children of yours and his, children of Lilith and Bagdana!”
“You’re nuts…that’s monstrous…and will fail with dreadful results.”
“I thought about it: there’s nothing forbidding me from taking fresh semen from
Bagdana. I’ll summon him” Bruce glared at her with narrowed eyes “he’ll fuck
you, your body will absorb the seed and my scientists will have fresh material
to create my new army of demon soldiers with extraordinary human DNA!”
Bruce clenched his jaw.
“Imagine, Bruce: the fierciest army the world ever known with soldiers
beautiful as Lilith and you, powerful as Bagdana, some of them flying having as
their general your strategic genius!” her eyes were shining fervently and her
groin’s movements became frantic enhancing the pain that Crane’s poison had
settled on Bruce’s pelvis.
“That will destroy you” Bruce tried to reason with her staring at Talia almost
friendly; he shook his head. “You can’t do this! You can’t control such
powers…you can’t even know what creatures will be made; they will be
abominations; they won’t answer to you, they won’t answer to anyone except
maybe this Bagdana guy you say. Do you think that this demon will tolerate you
trying to manipulate and use him? He’ll strike you hard and if what you say is
true he’ll just grab and take me away. Listen, Talia, don’t play with these
things…”
Talia lolled her head to the side playfully.
“Is Batman’s hard used ass afraid of a demon’s dick?” she sniggered and Bruce
rolled his eyes. “I have Ubu: he was fully capable to hold him away all these
time and he’ll give me control over him through you.”
Bruce’s head ached worse than all these time: Ubu might have been able to
thwart the demon from entering their base yet when they’d summon him with their
will, his ire would be unstoppable. He remembered the demon telling him that
their proximity made the demon stronger.
“Talia, you’ll have a horrid end if you proceed with this madness…”
She cupped Bruce’s face and captured his lips that evaded her making more
arousing the kiss for her. She bit him hard and licked the blood moaning in
delight.
“You destroyed me, Bruce; but you didn’t defeat me because I still have you and
you will be my means of being victorious in the end and get my revenge!” she
hissed and her hips and torso slithered like a snake on Bruce’s aching body
till she clenched harder her vagina evoking Bruce’s ejaculation.
She gasped once and her neck bent backwards with her eyes glistening madly half
turned inwards her full lips half open moaning and grunting; sweat from the
middle of her aching breasts slithering rapidly to her navel and then slowly to
her Mount of Venus to end moisturing more her vagina. Her hands brushed
violently her own breasts and abdomens to replace Bruce’s hands that still
weren’t willing to touch her body and then her throbbing buttocks ending to
grope the pelvis of the man she had under her.
“I’ve got your sperm, Bruce, your precious sperm; offsprings of you and me will
emerge to rule the new world.”
Bruce yanked his head as much as the short chain permitted him and the leash
cut his flesh.
“I’m not a breeding stud!” he rasped, his spent body convulsing.
Talia caressed his bruised neck and lay her torso on his without releasing his
penis. Her swollen breasts brushed his pectorals and her mouth tasted slowly
his hot cheek.
“You are whatever I want you to be…” Bruce averted his face leaving her lips in
the void. “But I agree: you’re more than a stallion” she moved sensually her
hips to elicit new forced arousal – Crane’s drag lasted two hours and she
wasn’t filled yet, not that she expected to ever have enough of Bruce.
She brought her throbbing breasts over Bruce’s lips.
“I want to feel your lips on my breasts…now!”
Bruce jerked his head away but she fisted his hair with both hands and
slithered her breasts to his bleeding lips pushing her erected rock hard
nipples in – Talia moaned her lids half covering her eyes. Disgust boiled
aggressively inside Bruce’s stomach; his length was forced to a new erection
and feelings of enrage that weren’t his stabbed his mind.
“The first times I watched father fuck you mercilessly I wanted to grab a
Katana and tear you to pieces…” she breathed hoarsely elated from the flesh
throbbing again inside her. “But now I understand why father couldn’t stop
using you, couldn’t kill you; I understand why Ra’s was more vivacious, more
live: Lazarus’ Pit after so many uses didn’t have the same life giving effect
on him as from the time he began fucking you: he was revitalized, full of
energy, young. And I felt it too; after our first time…”
Bruce clenched his teeth as his exhausted pelvis began thrusting again, his
captor’s body dancing with energy he felt that was taken from him. He let his
head loll on the pillow, the throbbing of his head worsening from Bagdana’s
wrath who always watched. If Talia made the mistake to summon the demon Hell
would be unleashed…He closed his eyes urging himself to leave his body and fly
free from everyone…
 
Selina was prawling the small lake the lamberjacks talked about. Her heart was
beating calm and determined but deep inside impatience and agitation boiled.
She had caught the movements of those mysterious men who were definitely
League’s members; she followed them without being detected but she couldn’t
find where they vanished or how.
She knew that Bruce was near but she couldn’t approach him, take him to safety;
and Selina could feel his suffering and her teeth were gritted all the time .
It was like all these nights behind the huge garbage bin in the alley at
Dolcetto’sback door when she had Bruce beside her but was aware that she
couldn’t take him away.
Reluctantly, the young woman thought to call Tony and Superman to assist to the
search but crossed that out because not only they surely had already searched
the area but also if that bitch realized that they were on her ass would
transfer Bruce bringing her effort to zero. She was the one who must find
Bruce: if she didn’t manage nobody would…
Selina didn’t hear even a fallen leaf creech but she knew that a presence was
near her. However she didn’t feel threaten: the presence was familiar… The
young woman narrowed her eyes because familiar feelings filled her.
She turned with her eyes sparkling determined in the dark and stood the thick
bushes covering her and the presence; Selina crossed her arms staring
challengingly, one foot before the other stabbing her stiletto heel to the
soil.
“Greg…” she cocked an eyebrow though it was and wasn’t Greg. “Long time no
see!”
The huge thug was twisting her arms in the back struggling to muffle her
resistance and Selina stabbed her sneeker to his toes causing a scream and some
loosening in his grip that she exploited to elbow him in the gut and ran. But
she only managed to move her feet when a barrel was in front of her face and
she heard a menacing click followed by several others as the dark alley filled
with thugs - Falcone’s thugs, she knew all of them and gasped seeing that the
mass who stopped her was the Vulture.
Her eyes flashed but she didn’t make a move: Falcone’s henchmen killed people
everyday without any consequence even when witnesses were on the scene - who
was so stupid to speak against Falcone’s men? She looked for a way to escape
but they were too many.
The thug she hit approached limping.
“Ya bitch!” he growled and fisted her ponytail yanking her head upwards.
“She’s the thief?” Chill asked.
“Yeeeep! She’s been stealing from warehouses for months an’ I know she steals
wallets from boss’ clients.”
Selina bared her teeth and tried to free her head but Chill slapped her
bursting her lip. She growled and he yanked her chin with his finger.
“She’s too young...no more than twenty an’ really pretty; she can pay off what
snatched from boss...But first she needs a lesson!”
He touched his finger to her lips and she albeit the other thug’s grip bit him
with all her hatred for every time she watched him torture Bruce...and for
Hero…
Chill detached his bleeding finger.
“Ya lousy, litl’ slut!”
He jerked his hand to slap her again but she didn’t lower her stare - she knew
she’d come out of this alive because Selina swore to never abandon Bruce.
She was ready to take the blow that so many times witnessed Bruce taking but
Chill’s hand froze in middair held by slender fingers that looked like
belonging to a pianist. But they were made of iron because the Vulture couldn’t
escape the grip and his face distorted in pain as a crack signalized the
breaking of his wrist.
Chill’s friends hearing their leader’s cry of pain woke from their initial
shock and readied their guns to shoot. Selina was scared for the stranger but
in less than ten seconds the guns were on the ground and the men held their
wrists.  She blinked awed realizing that in a blur her savior had kicked the
guns out of their hands dragging all the time along the massive body of Chill
who goggled stupidly.
And then the man began twisting his tall, lean body and hitting like a mill the
thugs with kicks that sounded like stabs and...with Chill’s body that couldn’t
escape the grip on his wrist. Selina saw whistling the man’s palm fall
graciously on one’s neck like a blade knocking him out instantly… But the most
unfortunate was one who took a head butt right in the nose: he collapsed in the
filth of the alley with his face covered in blood.
Selina thrilled elbowed again the man who held her and jolted backwards her
heel to sink to his groin. The thug staggered screaming and scared from what he
witnessed ran for it. The girl crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow.
“Chicken!” she shouted behind him.
The man had forced Chill on his knees still grabbing his wrist; around him
unconscious or moaning men sprawled on the cement. The stranger who now Selina
noticed was dressed in an expensive, shining dark grey suit, raised his fingers
to the level of Chill’s infuriated eyes.
“I hate adults abusing kids…” he stressed each word with calmness that barely
hid deep aversion; his accent was definitely Asian and now she could discern
his skin, she was sure.
Selina relished the terror in Chill’s eyes: the bastard loved his littl’ life,
he didn’t want to die but made Bruce die each second of his life after his
parents died. She couldn’t restrict herself when Bruce’s cries from that night
in the alley came back: she stormed on the kneeled giant and clenching her
teeth began punching him everywhere. The flood of tears clouding her vision.
She felt the stranger taking her wrist gently and detaching her from Chill. She
hardly discerned him stroking Chill’s neck with his other hand knocking him
out.
She was still trembling from hatred that hadn’t blasted on the guilty and cried
more not realizing that the stranger hugged her comfortingly.
“We must leave now, child” his deep voice brushed her ears and she didn’t
digest the meaning until some minutes later she found herself in an enormous
but completely bare room.
He gave her a handkerchief and a glass of water that she didn’t take because
she was still too upset. The man touched his fingers on her forehead and
immediately tranquility warmed her mind.
“Who are you?!” she snapped at him with narrowed eyes.
The man who was completely bald smiled and it was an odd smile of someone who
controls himself.
“I’m Greg” he answered and though the man was stranger and a killing machine
Selina wasn’t afraid of him.
“You know Chill?” she walked towards him.
He shook his hands.
“Not much; I’ve heard of him and Falcone but my job doesn’t allow me to stay at
Gotham for long.”
“What’s your job?”
He let his eyelids half cover his eyes amuzed.
“The same as yours” he saw her eyes flashing. “A thief.”
“I steal to make a living!”
Greg nodded.
“And to help poor people...I admit I’m not as altruist as you… I steal to be
wealthy and if I may say it for myself: I’m an expert.”
Selina lolled her head and stared at him disbelievingly.
“You don’t look like a thief…”
He sat on the floor folding his legs and gestured for her to join him.
“And that exactly makes me an expert. You’re a clever girl, Selina.”
“You know my name?”
He grinned.
“You’ve got talent so I made my search on you.”
Selina crossed her arms angry.
“I don’t like people searching me.”
Greg stabbed her with his wise dark eyes.
“It’s for the best, child…”
Selina rolled her eyes but didn’t pout because she wasn’t a kid and it was cute
only on Bruce.
“Don’t call me ‘child’!”
“Forgive me, Selina.”
“And you definitely are not a thief.”
“I am but I have plenty of interests and definitely I’m not a common burglar
and a low rifler…”
Selina felt her cheeks reddening.
“I’m not a rifler!”
He nodded grinning.
“I know you have potential and talent and I can make you not only a master
thief and able to break street thugs’ bones but also able to help your loved
ones…” his eyes stared at her and Selina knew that he understood the clenching
of her guts and her hope on the last he said. “I can train you, Selina.”
But she wasn’t used to trust people so easily: she was born and raised - raised
alone - in Gotham and had experienced how ugly and cruel the world was.
“You...you said to Chill that you hate adults abusing kids…” she muttered and
the man became serious.
“I do. And I want them punished as much as you want it.”
Selina regarded him lopsided.
“And you don’t know Chill?” are you kidding me…
“I heard rumors.”
Selina sighed; she wanted so much to become strong and skilled like him to help
Bruce but she couldn’t trust Greg.
“And what a wealthy thief cares about an abusing monster and a vulgar like
Falcone?” her eyes never left his.
“I told you I’m a man of many interests…” his eyes looked deep inside her.
“And you can train me?”
Greg smiled.
“So it wasn’t a coincidence” she shook her head smirking “Greg…” his attire had
no relation with the suits she always saw him wearing during her training: now
he was dressed as a Buddhist monk. Her face became dead serious. “You’re one of
them, right?”
Ubu nodded.
“This explains you knew what Chill was doing to Bruce or about me. What’s your
real name?”
“Ubu, I was Ra’s Al Ghul’s right hand and one of Bruce’s trainers.”
Selina shook her head and jerked her arms.
“One of his tormentors!”
Ubu’s eyes flickered and he licked his lips.
“I tried to make things easier for him but I was just a soldier, a servant
bound with oaths, friendship and loyalty.”
Selina closed her eyes frustrated.
“Your boss tortured and exploited a boy and you helped him! You summoned a
demon to rape a poor boy! You’re despicable and even more because you brag that
you tried to make things easier for him!” she wanted to say more but her agony
to find Bruce was stronger. “Ra’s ordered you to approach me then?”
Ubu shook his head.
“No, he knew that you were Bruce’s only friend but I trained you secretly. I
wanted to train you because I knew that Bruce would need your help: you were
his valuable partner, his trusted friend and his asset now. I’m proud of you,
Selina.”
Selina crossed her arms, lowered a bit her head thoughtful and immediately
jerked.
“Cut the crap! Your lot snatched Bruce and you’re torturing him! And you
tolerate that again, Greg! Or Ubu, or whatever! You said that you approached me
to give me the skills to help Bruce and stop the League but now you’re
permitting them to resume their evil doing!”
Ubu bowed his head ashamed; he had already thought all these things and Talia
had already discussed her horrendous plan on pimping Bruce to Bagdana in order
to use the demon’s power and create his offsprings. She didn’t even consider
his objections and warnings; just ordered him to set things in motion.
“This is why I came to find you - I knew you were close searching for him. I
came to show you the way to reach him…”
Selina’s eyes shone enthusiastic but simultaneously fear bit her guts: she
could see the shadow in Ubu’s eyes hinting that something hideous threatened
Bruce and that really scared her. She clenched Tony’s communicator.
 
“Who fed ya, ya filthy brat?” Falcone kept repeating with each punch till the
last one sent him to crash on the floor.
His head was throbbing from the blows – no, it was Crane’s poisons – no, it was
the blows because his right arm was hurting like hell. His face felt red and
swollen, hot and pained; he had the familiar disgusting taste of copper as
liquid flew out of his half opened mouth, mixed with blood from his nostrils
which ended in his mouth.
Chill had started the hammering… The Vulture had dragged him to the cellar to
use him: Bruce had felt the terrifying bulge in Chill’s pants from the first
moment the man grabbed him. Falcone had sent the henchman on a confidential
mission out of town and Bruce was happy that at least he could be spared from
Chill’s twice a day use and savor somewhat easier Steve’s treats. But now Chill
was back and crearly he missed Bruce.
The giant immediately stripped him with frantic movements, freed his length
that already was fully erected and crushed him face first to the wall. His
eagerness was such that his enormous hands trembled as he clenched his skinny
thighs to spread him; his sweaty hands slipping the flesh that convulsed from
fear with the result stabbing his nails to still him. His rock hard penis
unable to wait pushed his half spread opening increasing the pain and Bruce’s
whines.
The Vulture growled delighted as his thrusts catapulted him from the beginning,
the deprivation burning the man so much that he fisted Bruce’s hair to thrust
deeper and stronger.
And then as his plummeting became manic and drilling his insides Bruce felt
Chill’s cruel hands inspecting his naked body and panic clenched his guts. When
the man cum the vicious hands were pinching his belly and holding him from
there Chill turned him to face the thug.
Bruce was panting both from the pain, the storm his body suffered and from
terror: he knew that Chill figured.
“Yar fat!” he growled though two chunks of meat in his bony body could hardly
be called ‘fat’. “Who fed ya?!” two slaps almost uprooted his head.
“Nobody, sir…” he whimpered but Chill wasn’t convinced.
“A slice of bread doesn’t add meat – which scum feeds ya?!”
 “Ya give ‘im yar asshole for food, huh? Ya hungry hooker!” Falcone fisted his
hair and roared in his bleeding ear; Bruce was hardly seeing him, his master’s
face horribly distorted from the tears flooding his stinging eyes.
“Nobody, sir…I swear…” he couldn’t betray Steve: they would kill him…for being
kind to him.
Falcone kicked him hard on the stomach jolting his body in the air and to bump
to the wall. Bruce cried weak. He could feel Chill’s evil eyes on him relishing
his punishment.
The sound of Falcone’s footsteps came closer and Bruce gathered slowly his good
arm to hide his head but this didn’t deterred his master who taking advantage
of the wall that thwarted Bruce’s body to jolt away from his hits began kicking
as if an inanimate sack was in front of him and not a writhing boy.
The mobster knew how to cause pain without killing so his kicks were bursting
flesh, bruising his stomach, belly and ass, or cracking his ribs but not
finishing him off. Bruce was taking the hits whimpering not even trying to
protect himself because five years in their hands taught him that was futile.
“I’m gonna pill the skin of yar bones if ya don’t speak!” the mobster shouted
out of breath when the onslaught stopped but Bruce didn’t have even the
strength to mumble something or open his eyes.
However he saw the light that flooded the grim room and then the pain and the
shame and the terror and the sorrow were gone. Bruce heard the calming sound of
water dripping and opened his eyes shyly.
He saw the marble engraved pond with the crystal clear water that the Goddess
was gifting for centuries to mortals to heal their illnesses and wounds; he
touched his fingers in the water relishing the energy and then gazed at the
Aegean Sea filling the horizon behind the marble doric pillars. He closed his
eyes and breathed the sea breeze, the seagulls’ cries and the sun playing
cheerfully with the sapphire waters. He knew the view so well that he didn’t
need his eyes to see it…
He lifted slightly his priest’s robe and took with his bare hands the burning
dried flowers to lay on the feet of the Goddess’ human sized marble statue that
protected with her winds the temble and her believers. Not for much…He thought
sorrowful and instantly berated himself for his cowardice.
He turned his sapphire eyes to the altar where the wings of the Black Butterfly
sparkled in the afternoon sun. He smiled; even if he died as the enemies of the
Goddess wanted the Black Butterfly would continue glowing and the Goddess
protecting those who believe in her.
“I don’t want your death…” a female stern voice filled the suddenly silent
temble.
He turned his head upwards because the Goddess didn’t want people bow to her
and he saw inside the marble eyes of the statue the emerald stars of Nemesis
glimmering.
“It’s my honor, my Lady, to die for you and your glory.”
“You won’t!” she retorted sharply and he lowered his eyes.
“Forgive me, my Lady, but I don’t want to abandon the temple, your believers,
you…” my fatherland. “I want to shed my blood for you.”
The emerald stars glinted impatiently.
“You shall leave the country…go far…change your name…never speak about me…live
and have children.”
His eyes bulged.
“No, my Lady, I won’t let your worship die…”
“If you do as I say my worship shall survive through the ages and your
descendants shall bring justice and health to people till one of them returns
to save my people and my temple. His son bearing the emerald stars…the friend
of my bats…and bats will guide him and he shall be the beholder of Black
Butterfly brandishing my sword on the iniquitus and the arrogant…from the sky.”
He was shocked, his eyes never leaving his Goddess’ emerald stars that led his
stare to acknowledge the letters on the temple’s cornerstones: Α Υ Ν Ε . And
then the black diamond forming a huge W.
His heart was shattered with grief…And he hid in caves to evade the hatred of
Nemesis’ enemies and fulfill his Lady’s commands…Live…And the air was thick and
heavy in tunnels Goddess’ showed him sending her bats.And his guts were
clenched from sorrow for what he left…The sun sparkling in the crystal waters,
the smell of salt from his Goddesses’ temple…Now the air was dump and
thick…Deep in the darkness…
And then he was lifted and he knew that he was taken away because the air
smelled of grass and rain - summer rain - and his heart felt at ease allowing
the exhaustion to take over and he was sleeping.
So warm...so secure...so safe spooned by a loving body...Fingers were caressing
his stray locks off his sweaty cheeks to kiss gently like a spring breeze to
not wake him up. His nostrils were brushed from the dense smell of plants, of
wood burning in a heater and oil lamp; the powerful scent of the man cuddling
him. The smell of happiness and the lips pecking his lips sucking the air
exhaling from his lungs made his battered heart rest beating calmly.
But then his stomach growled because he was hungry and he felt the lips on his
mouth stretching in a smile.
“Are you hungry, babe?” he knew the voice whispering in his ear but it wasn’t
the voice he thought, the voice he wanted. It was a woman’s voice. The woman’s
who had bound his hands and leashed him.  A smug, cold voice that was gently
jeering. “I punished you and I didn’t send my servants to feed you.”
He opened his eyes and he was lying on the blanket in the greenhouse.
Everything was as he remembered: the pots, the bench, the walls of plexi glass,
the stormy sky above, the screeching of the logs in the fire, the dull, warm
light from the oil lamp. But the body behind him wasn’t the body that should…
He hastened to close his eyes because this moment of his life must not be
violated too.
However two lean and strong hands cupped his face and turned him to look her
arrogant, uncaring face.
“You belong to me: I’m the only one to take care of you. There is nobody else!”
she hissed and her black, sparkling eyes felt as sucking him making the
dizziness a hurricane and the low drumming a crushing constant hammering.
He tried to escape, to take his head off her hands, to stop her before she
sucked everything treasured in his head. He bit his lips and the pain cleared
the fog.
“No!” he yelled and his head exploded, every lull pain in his body rebelling, a
nightmarish roar breaking his eardrums from inside as an earthquake demolished
the ancient temple; people in ancient robes screaming and the Black Butterfly
being broken in the middle.
And then the roar slowly ebbed and the agony left him; a sweet melody caressing
his ears as a caring soft hand cooled his burning face. His mother was singing
his favorite lullaby and taking care of his fever but he was afraid to open his
eyes although he desperately wanted to. He didn’t want to see her beloved eyes
filled with hatred and ice.
“Look at me, my little angel…” she whispered so sweet and sad that tears wetted
his stubbornly pressed eyelashes. “You know we love you…”
“I’m here, Bruce…” Thomas Wayne’s serious but warm voice reassured.
He opened his eyes to not let them leave and saw their kind, affectionate eyes
sparkle, his mother’s smile brushing her young face. But they were leaving,
vanishing in the air; Thomas’ baritone voice and child-like laughter, Martha’s
perfume, her lullaby and the pain of separation lingering.
Bruce gained slowly the sensations from the room and his restrained body that
ached and felt drained. Someone was brushing a soft clothe wetting his face
that burnt. Maybe his mother? Was his first spontaneous thought but he erased
it instantly.
He opened his eyes and saw Ubu brushing his forehead with an incredibly soft
cloth, its pleasant smell dispersing the fog.
***** Chapter 70 *****
Joker was sprawled on a high-backed pink armchair his legs bent on the armrest
hung loosely dancing with the rhythm of the latest US hits. His henchmen were
scattered to the vast warehouse playing cards, drinking beers or licking
lollypops. After the attack on Luthor and the police they remained under the
radar, quiet like a bunch of nuns. The men were agitated due to this stagnation
but seeing their boss unfazed singing the latest hits didn’t mention anything.
Except for a new recruited thug, Chechen’s gang’s member that decided to follow
the tide. He wasn’t the sanest of thugs and Joker’s gang was the ideal
environment for him. Only that they weren’t doing anything! They just sat in
this warehouse, watching TV, drinking and playing. Where was the action he was
promised? The chaos? The money? No, he didn’t complain on money…
He jerked his head, his unfocused eyes finding Joker - the shot of coke was
blurring the brick walls of the warehouse. He left the darts and marched to the
jester.
Joker immediately noticed his new goon coming but didn’t stir.
“Boss, when we hit banks?”
Joker turned slowly his head and acknowledged him puzzled.
“I don’t care about mo-ney…” he answered calmly and his older goons knew that
it wasn’t good so stopped what they’re doing to watch. “Do you have aaaany com-
plain about your um… wage?”
The man scratched his unshaved cheek.
“Nope, but what about creating havoc?”
Joker jerked his legs over the armrest and sat upright; he changed the channel
into GCN which broadcasted images from the outbreak of violence at some areas
of Gotham from Arkham’s runaways. They had set on fire some garbage bins and
low rank thugs took advantage of the madness to rob people. Police officers and
SWATs chased the culprits while sirens of police vehicles, fire brigade and
ambulance were completing the scene.
Joker’s eyes shone absorbed in the spectacle: no Batman… he had heard that they
saw him in some other locations.
“I’ve already wrecked haaaavoc” he raised his eyebrows “I let my huuuumble
subjects do the rest...Is what a considerate King does…”
The man slapped his hands on his dirty jeans and lolled his head.
“We could loot houses an’ stores! An’ we stay in that fuckin’ warehous’ rottin’
an’...”
The thug didn’t even saw the bare blade that flashed from Joker’s hand stabbing
his jugular. His bulged, crystallized in terror eyes stood for an instant at
Joker’s indifferent face and then he fell with a bang on the cement floor
gurgling in his own blood.
The lollypop stayed stuck in one thug’s mouth while another who had brought the
bottle of the beer to his mouth got wet as the liquid instead of finding his
mouth dripped on his blouse.
Joker lifted again his legs over the armrest and made to change the station
when break news interrupted the footage. He frowned: S.H.I.E.L.D., League of
Shadows, Avengers - he didn’t care much about these but Stark was also
mentioned and Superman. Something about a colossal operation against the
terrorist group called League of Shadows that had created S.H.I.E.L.D. to
infiltrate the major peace organizations and secure the trust and collaboration
of governments all over the world, with the purpose to establish gradually a
new world order. Boooring…What asshole would want to rule a shitty world like
this?
“They had at their disposal mass destruction weapons and they were ready to use
them globally to murder millions of people; however the world’s heroes…”
Joker arched his eyebrows sarcastic.
“…united managed to defuse the weapons on time and dismantle the terrorist’s
bases leading to hundreds of arrests and the elimination of the world’s most
dangerous terrorist group.”
Joker knew the one-eyed Afro-American talking to the press: he was in Brucey’s
office the day he had smashed the windows and made a pleasant surprise to his
spouse. Their first time… Well, the baldy had beaten his goons and that was
expectable since - Joker read the caption - he was Nick Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s
Director.
So Stark and Superman stopped searching for Brucey and chased terrorists! The
red and blue balloon stopped hovering over Gotham to find him - not that Super-
Goofy would have managed since the warehouse and the old industrial area were
filled with lead. He rolled his eyes: and he expects them finding his spouse…
Lousy super heroes! They left Brucey to the boring affair of world’s
saving. You can’t trust those bozzoes!
“So you and the Avengers were taking orders from terrorists?”
“Yes” the baldy answered unfazed. “Nobody could have imagined the plot.”
“How did you find out?”
Fury pressed his lips thoughtful; he wanted to pay tribute to Batman but he
knew the man wouldn’t want it.
“I can only say that it was an insider.”
“Is the League of Shadows the group who abducted Bruce Wayne?”
Joker stirred on his armchair.
“Yes. And this is their leader.”
Joker squinted to see the beautiful raven haired chick on the screen. He knew
her too: she was Morticia from Luthor’s office. So the League of… whatever
plotted with Luthor and that other guy to snatch his baby? Why? And the
director of S.H.I.E.L.D. went to Brucey’s office to do what? What relation had
a traumatized baby with the director of an organization occupying super heroes
and a terrorist group that made an entire plot to abduct him? Especially, when
the first and the later coincide?
And an insider unveiled those guys...and Stark and Superman left abruptly their
search for their friend to attack the terrorists - well, they were stupid super
heroes and that’s what they do… But it was like they were expecting it…
Joker scratched his sculp. He was thinking something… Ugh! How he’d have liked
Rachel being spying now…
“What will happen to the S.H.I.E.L.D.?”
“To the Avengers?”
“You’ll resign?”
“It’s too early to answer. Our priority now is finding Mr. Wayne and bringing
him back and erase completely pockets of the remaining terrorists – it’s what
our troops do right now.”
“Aaaaand I’ll be paaaatiently waiting to take what’s mine…” Joker whispered
gleefully “...and sooooolve the mystery.”
 
“Don’t touch me!” Bruce snarled at Ubu as the memory of Ra’s dark basement came
crashingly.
He jerked his head so violently that he was chortled by his leash’s pressure.
Ubu’s eyes widened and he hastened to take his hand.
“Relax, child…I don’t mean any harm.”
Bruce’s head was throbbing and a heavy drumming tortured his ears: he saw again
himself at his 14 years being tied on the floor of Al Ghul’s basement, the two
adults muttering reassurances as they prepared him for the demon. Sweat flooded
his body but he couldn’t resist.
Ubu pulled out of his robe a small ancient looking knife and cut the ropes that
bound Bruce’s wrists to the headboard and placed the youth’s hands on the
mattress. Bruce felt the blood rushing back to his hands and his scratched
wrists protesting; he wished he could caress his sore hands but since he
couldn’t do that he watched warily Ubu cutting the leather pieces constricting
his neck, air flowing freely to his lungs.
His former trainer brushed the bruises on his neck with the same clothe and
Bruce reacted though the feeling was more than soothing.
“I told you to not touch me especially with whatever concoction you have” his
eyes flashed angrily and he clenched his teeth.
Ubu lowered his eyes.
“I want to help you, child…” he muttered hesitantly.
“And you expect me to believe you? Why? Because you untied me?” he snapped.
“I’m paralyzed so big deal!” he was rasping and his heart was racing.
And Ubu didn’t like that; he touched Bruce’s wrist to listen to his heartbeat
and it was more than easy to discern his exhaustion and pain. He touched his
fingers to Bruce’s temples making soothing circles but the youth was too
stubborn and yanked his head increasing his pulse and migraine.
Ubu sighed.
“Let me soothe your pain…” his voice reached that low tone which always made
Bruce’s brain lowering to a pain relieving, soothing numbness.
And Bruce needed that so much…But then he saw Ubu taking a bowl from the
nightstand and bringing it to him. Instantly the numbness gave its place to
agitation and fight instinct though his body wouldn’t follow. He remembered the
same man giving him a lukewarm brew a few moments before he was violated by the
demon.
He rolled his head on the pillow.
“You shouldn’t have taken the leash off” he rattled his teeth “because I won’t
drink your poison!” he was angry, more than angry; everything he had
experienced in reality and in the drug induced world had filled his mind and
heart with something boiling like lava – something energetic but erosive at the
same time.
Ubu nodded pressing his lips.
“You remember everything…”
Bruce didn’t turn his face: Ubu knew how to dazzle you with his eyes and in his
condition Bruce didn’t want to risk it. After what Talia said he was sure that
Ubu would give him again the same concoction to ready him again for the demon.
“That you helped Ra’s Al Ghul prepare me for the demon you summoned? Yes, I
remember even though you obeyed your Master and gave me the Oblivion Serum to
forget because your Master was afraid that I’d try again to kill myself!”
Ubu inhaled deeply and let the bowl on the nightstand.
“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness…”
Bruce closed his eyes trying to control his breath and heartbeat; Ubu was
trying to fool him into trusting him as the boy did because he didn’t remember
the basement.
“I tried to talk Ra’s out of this” he said solemnly at Bruce’s turned to the
other side face “as I did a couple of hours ago with Talia. I didn’t want you
to be so brutally used: I was afraid that you wouldn’t stand the demon’s use,
that he’d destroy you.”
“But you collaborated with Al Ghul” Bruce snapped somewhat calmer.
Ubu closed his eyes.
“My sin will haunt the years of my life. I was a stupid servant blurring
loyalty, friendship and obedience to an insane man…” he shook his head. “Ra’s
Al Ghul was my friend, my comrade in battle against evil, my companion through
spiritual journeys” he arched an eyebrow. “Even then he was infatuated with the
legend of the first Ra’s Al Ghul, the one who slayed Lilith – I found it
reasonable and assisted him with his research even alone after his leadership’s
duties thwarted him; the heir to Ra’s Al Ghul’s mission and power…and madness.
He used Lazarus’ Pit too often and clear wanting to enhance his powers and be
what his name meant: the Demon’s head, the Demon’s slayer, the enforcer of
justice and punisher of evil as his ancestors. Gradually, he lost his path but
I was averting my gaze justifying his deeds, finding the right in the wrong.
Even when he decided to kill an infant – you: killing the enemy’s infants was a
common barbaric tactic of the League and though it was long abandoned I didn’t
condemn his decision.”
Bruce snorted.
“He saw your birthmark and his forgotten infatuation for the demons came back.
He wanted the boy to tame all this infinite power: to eradicate his enemies and
create a new world free of injustice and malice” Ubu shook his head, his eyes
focused on something that wasn’t there. “That evening when the demon…claimed
your body…Bagdana lost control and Ra’s knew that this was the sign he hoped
and expected. I was ready to run there to stop him but Ra’s held me saying that
we couldn’t stop it at that stage…”
Bruce closed his eyes; he remembered that Ubu was the first to enter the room
after the demon left. How he had nestled in the man’s arms.
“I thought that the Oblivion Serum would soothe your pain erasing the horid
memory…and then the potion after the demon’s second attack. I thought that
would keep the demon away but I understand now that you have encountered the
demon recently. Selina knew about the demon so I gather that he circles you.”
Bruce’s eyes widened.
“Selina?” they got her and now they would torture her to force him do whatever
they wanted. “You know Selina?” he closed his eyes “of course, you do: Ra’s
knew about her and he told you. Leave her out of this!” he shouted and his eyes
flashed.
Ubu raised his hand in a calming gesture.
“Please, calm down, Bruce. Selina is safe; she is here looking for you.”
Bruce frowned.
“Then how?” how she spoke to you?
Ubu read the questions.
“I know her since years. I trained her because I knew she’d help you to your
war.”
Bruce looked at him amazed.
“She told me that a master thief trained her…”
Ubu nodded.
“It was what she was being told… though I’m sure she always had her doubts.”
“You and Ra’s wanted to recruit her to the League?”
The older man half closed his eyes and touched again Bruce’s forehead.
“Inhale deep and exhale slow…”
Bruce felt as if he was again in the training room still clueless but trying to
delve into everything his teacher said. Ubu used to assist him to breathe right
to relax and he followed his instructions blindly because he knew that all
these would be crucial to his cause. But now he wouldn’t obey.
“Please, child” Ubu almost pleaded “I want to help.”
Bruce yanked his head to the side.
“Tell me what you did with Selina?”
“Nothing. I approached her without Ra’s’ knowledge. And I trained her to be
able to fight along you. Calm down now: she is coming to take you. I showed her
another path to come so we not being seen together.”
He wanted to not believe him however something inside him screamed to trust his
old mentor. He breathed easier and Ubu smiled. But then Bruce shook his head.
“She can’t. She is a very strong girl but I’m completely paralyzed and I won’t
be able to carry my burden. It’s better if she had notified Tony and waited
somewhere safe.”
“She won’t leave you even a second more in their hands now that she knows where
you are. Selina informed your friends yet you must be gone when they attack the
base because Talia will use you as a shield.”
“Where are we?” Bruce asked eager to assist things.
“Inside Mount Marcy.”
Bruce pressed his lips trying to think fast amongst the dizziness and the pain.
“If you remove the bullets I’d be able to assist Selina.”
But the older man shook his head.
“I can’t, child: a special surgeon is needed to not cause you a permanent
damage” Bruce pressed his lips acknowledging his hurting lower spine which
throbbed stronger as if to remind him its presence. “I would never risk
crippling you permanently.”
Bruce yanked his head and sighed.
“Then how am I to help her?”
Ubu took again the bowl with the brew and Bruce looked at it warily.
“It will restore some of your power and balm your pains…”
But Bruce’s heart still beat heavily as Ubu brought the rim to his lips: those
moments in the basement very intense. What if everything was a lie and Ubu was
giving him something to worsen his mind’s condition? He stilled his sparkling
eyes to Ubu’s eyes which were calm as ever and filled with agony. Bruce closed
his eyes, thinking Selina, and sipped the brew.
Ubu was honest, he thought as wonderful soothing feeling spread slowly all over
him numbing his pains and chasing the migraine for the first time since… he
couldn’t remember from when: it seemed forever. He gulped the brew greedily and
Ubu’s eyes shone when Bruce raised his head having gulped the whole thing.
“How are you feeling?”
“The pain leaves my body, my mind slowly clears from the dizziness and I don’t
feel exhausted. Th...thank you” he said still uncertain. “But I’m still
paralyzed.”
Ubu placed the bowl on the nightstand and looked at Bruce solemn.
“You need to use the strength in you.”
Bruce closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
“This is what I’m doing all this time! But this can’t move my hands and legs!”
“I don’t mean that: you already know how to use your soul’s power to the
fullest. I mean the powers hidden in your genes.”
Bruce frowned and clenched his jaw.
“You believe those things too…”
Ubu’s eyes were solemn.
“You don’t?”
Bruce shook his head.
“I’m not the descendant of a demon and…” he didn’t know if he should tell the
second supposed ancestor.
“Of Nemesis’ priest” Ubu nodded.
“You know?”
“I had my suspicions but I was certain when I saw Superman handing the Knife of
Justice. I knew that the Knife killed Ra’s using your hand serving justice and
saving you: its rightful owner.”
Bruce closed his eyes; he didn’t like all these legends and fairytales twirling
with him in the middle.
“You must stop denying your heritage.”
Bruce shook his head frustrated.
“I don’t deny my heritage: I’m the son of Martha and Thomas Wayne.”
Ubu nodded.
“And Martha was Lilith’s descendant as your father was the descendant of
Nemesis’ priest: your eyes have the Goddess’ emerald stars. If you accept and
embrace your true nature you will be able to overcome your wounds’ obstacles
and defeat your enemies.”
The older man reached in his robe and pulled out the dagger Bruce knew too
well: this knife’s hilt he had bitten with all his might to withstand the pain
when Ra’s Al Ghul broke his arm to mend the bones in the right place, the knife
with which Ra’s aimed his heart and he managed to divert to kill his mentor.
“It’s yours” Ubu said and his voice vibrated from emotion. “It belongs to you;
the Knife recognized you and accepted you as its master.”
Bruce eyed the Knife.
“You stole it from the Museum?”
“No, Talia had people steal it meaning to give it to you after your conversion
to serve the League.”
Bruce shook his head and raised his eyebrows.
“I have no control over my hands.”
Ubu pierced him with his eyes.
“You’ll find when you open up to your real nature and the Knife will come to
you. You will need the Knife” he put it to Bruce’s waistband covering it with
the cloth.
Bruce watched him tucking the Knife and found Ubu’s eyes.
“To face Bagdana” he said.
“He attacked you…” Ubu whispered awed.
“A couple of times” Bruce nodded.
Ubu brought his hands on Bruce’s face.
“So he is stronger… And you managed to thwart him?”
“Yes… thanks to the Black Butterfly but now I don’t have it with me.”
Ubu lowered his hands and held Bruce’s hand.
“It doesn’t matter, child; you are already connected with the Goddess’ sacred
diamond; you have the protection but he is strong” he inhaled deeply. “His
closeness with you increases his strength with every minute that passes” Ubu’s
face became grim. “If he manages to copulate with you for the third time...”
Bruce raised his head and looked him in the eyes.
“What will happen then?”
Ubu pressed his lips.
“He’ll be powerful again - whole, fulfilled, having found his mate.”
“But I’m not his mate.” Bruce protested.
Ubu looked at him with a deep aching regret in his dark orbs because he had
contributed to this.
“If he claims your body a third time you’ll be his, eternally…”
Bruce’s eyes widened and his tired heart gave a loud kick but the knife in his
belt felt like emanating warmth.
Ubu stood and placed his hand on Bruce’s shoulder.
“I hope some day you forgive me though I’m not worthy of that…”
He took the bowl and turned to leave but Bruce’s stare stopped him.
“Where are you going?” he didn’t want it but he sounded like the scared boy who
trusted Ubu and felt safe with him.
Ubu smiled and touched the youth’s forehead with his fingertips whispering some
words of blessing.
“I must go to drag off the guards; Selina will come at any moment. I’d like to
stay and be with both of you but my absence will alert Talia. You two have
nothing to be afraid of.”
He moved towards the door and Bruce after some quick thought pressed his lips
and stopped him.
“Ubu…”
The older man turned.
“I…I forgive you…”
Ubu bit his lips and his eyes were sad.
“You’re always too generous, Bruce…Your kindness is vast as your skills and
strength.”
He bowed with respect and left the room.
Bruce’s eyes wandered to the semi dark room; his guts were still clenched from
the torturous flashbacks. He sighed; embrace your real nature, Ubu had said but
Bruce’s entire existence despised all these myths. How was he to take strength
from what he didn’t believe? From the lies that defined his life because some
people believed them? How was he to believe that he was the descendant of a
demon and a Goddess’ priest when people had done all these horrible things to
him? If all these were true he wouldn’t have been Falcone’s sex toy all his
life neither Ra’s Al Ghul would have exploited him like that.
He wanted to rub his forehead but he couldn’t. He inhaled deeply: all these
were coincidences. The double DNA, the Black Butterfly, the Knife of Justice,
the dreams-flashbacks, Bagdana’s infatuation, his eyes, the letters in Nemesis’
temple…But his detective mind didn’t accept coincidences, especially so many.
He clenched his teeth; he needed to rest his mind from every thought but he had
to focus.
The flapping of wings. The bat! Nemesis’ bats… He sighed and looked at the
small animal perched on the corner. She looked back and Bruce shuddered: the
bat’s eyes were green…emerald…stars…staring at him solemnly, determined, strict
but also caring. He inhaled deeply. His mind was playing games…He blinked to
clear his vision but the animal was still there with the same eyes that weren’t
an animal’s eyes. A new energy filled his body.
The door opened and he snapped his head tense but his eyes melted discerning
Selina dressed as Catwoman rushing to the bed.
 
Superman was flying faster than ever in his life towards Mount Marcy. His
clenched fist in the air was so tight that could smash a granite rock. His
crystal blue eyes were dark and red shadows were waving as he gazed at the fast
approaching mountain.
His jaw had remained set, so clenched that even he felt a slight ache but it
was negligible compared with his other emotions. From the instant Tony received
Selina’s call Clark didn’t wait the billionaire; he took off to reach Bruce as
soon as possible, to take him out of there, to hug him again, to bring him home
in his secure arms. His eyes felt wet and wasn’t just the air’s pressure: he
was eager to see his Star but he also dreaded the marks of what they did to
him.
“What do you think you’re doing, big guy?”
He halted abruptly startled hearing Tony right beside him in the new glimmering
Ironman armor. He frowned at the billionaire who stopped his acceleration.
“How do you intend to find Bruce in a mountain full of lead deposits without
the diagram Selina’s StarkStell gives us?”
“I’ll tear the mountain apart until I find Bruce.”
Ironman shook his head.
“Very effective way!” he mocked him. “And they will use him as leverage or
worse… not to mention that your… method may kill him.”
Clark closed his eyes.
“Fine! You’re right… Give me instructions and I’ll smash them!”
Ironman mumbled his satisfaction.
“Patience: we’re almost there, the diagram it’s almost completed – we don’t
want our haste ruin Selina’s effort.”
Superman sighed.
“She’s an amazing girl…”
Tony closed his eyes for an instant.
“I owe her so much… Now even more…”
They were flying, Tony activating Ironman’s stealth shield that blinded every
radar or satellite extending its range to cover Superman too.
“In my haste to catch you I didn’t inform Alfred: he deserves to know” Tony
said hoarsely. “He suffered so much all this time in constant agony for Bruce…
and blaming himself for his kidnapping.”
Superman turned his gaze to Ironman: he meant to ask him to wait till they had
Bruce – to be certain, to not crush the poor man’s hopes in case something went
awry. But he erased any doubt haunting his heart: he wouldn’t let anything go
wrong – Bruce will be safe.
“Call him” he said and even through Ironman’s lenses saw relief; Tony waiting
his response suspensful as the same fears haunted him.
“Alfred, we found Bruce” Superman could hear through Ironman’s com the kind
man’s mixed feelings: joy, relief but also a lurking fear. “Yes…” Tony laughed
“Miss Kyle” he mocked Alfred’s voice invoking a scornful “Master Anthony”, “she
found him; she is alright. Alfred, we’re bringing Bruce home tonight” he added
serious and ended the call letting Alfred notify Leslie.
Superman looked determined the dark mass of the mountain before him: their
greenhouse was waiting them.
“Just let them to me” he growled to Tony accelerating: playing Batman just an
hour ago to clear the mess in Gotham still affecting him.
“Selfish! All the fun for yourself? No way, dude – I want their asses too!” and
sped to catch up with Superman.
 
Selina couldn’t hold her joy at seeing Bruce; her friend was lying on a bed
with expensive blankets covering him and considered it a sign of good
treatment. And that made her heart fly in her chest. She ran to him and hugged
him with all the despair of the last hours; she nestled his head in her
shoulder and caressed his hair with both hands. Then she lifted his head, a
flashing smile brushing his face and she kissed him in both cheeks.
“I guess you’re happy to see me…” he chuckled.
“I hated when you’re forcing me to abandon you!”
“You never abandoned me, Selina” he answered solemnly. “You just saved Alfred’s
life” his heart stung. “How is he?” his voice was heavy with concern.
But Selina was absorbed in something else; Ubu had warned her yet on her
enthusiasm she had forgotten that Bruce was paralyzed from the neck and down.
As she hugged him it dawned harshly to her the odd feeling of Bruce’s limb
body.
“I…” she tried to remember Bruce’s question. “I took him to Leslie and they
immediately moved him to the surgery; I guess he is alright because I left
right away to search for you. Are you in pain?”
He shook his head.
“I’m fine.”
Selina sighed.
“Which means that you are in pain…”
Bruce lolled his head amuzed.
“No, Ubu gave me something and I’m really fine. However I’m paralyzed.”
Selina bit her lips.
“I’m gonna kill that bitch!”
Bruce wanted to calm her but his hands were useless even to pat her shoulders.
“It’s alright, Selina… I’m just sorry that I’ll burden you.”
She took off him the blankets and put her hands around Bruce’s waist and
shoulders. She smiled reassuringly to him.
“You underestimate me, sweetie?”
“Never” he smiled and willed his body to become lighter for Selina as she
lowered his legs to the floor and made him stand.
He was breathing calmly imagining that he was light as a feather and that he
could support his weight.
Selina put his unresponsive arm around her neck.
“Are you ready, Bruce?”
He nodded pressing his lips and the young woman began moving both of them
realizing that Bruce was staring somewhere. She looked there and saw the bat
staring back at them.
“She should be outside hunting” she said to Bruce “but she stayed to accompany
her friend, huh?”
“Yes, she was here most of the time…” Bruce looked a last time at his companion
and followed Selina out of the room.  
The bat gave a jolt and flew right above them and in the dimly lit corridor.
“You know” Selina said “for a man of 6’ 1’’ and strongly built you’re actually
very light…”
“I’m relieved to hear it…”
But Selina wasn’t.
“Did they feed you all this time?” she gritted her teeth.
“It wasn’t so much time… And yes they fed me rather carefully until the attack
on their bases… Then they were so infuriated that decided to punish me not
giving me food. Ubu showed you the way through the mountain caves.”
She nodded.
“And thanks to your intensive lessons in Gotham’s caves I have no problem to
orient myself…” she twitched her lips and winked. “Actually, I have Tony’s
phone to guide me… not that I need it” she lolled her head. “But you know just
in case…”
Bruce grinned: he felt again as the years they were just the two of them, alone
against the evil, the pain and the fear. And although those years were filled
with terror and despair, their bond, the feelings they shared were heaven.
“The StarkStell has the sonar application that permits it to transmit signals
bouncing to the elements of the environment giving a detailed map of the route
you followed and sends Tony the data.”
Selina rolled her eyes.
“Exactly so they will attack those motherfuckers while we’re away. Smartass!”
Bruce chuckled.
“It’s Tony’s invention not mine…”
Selina couldn’t hold a warm smile: Bruce’s chuckle always made that to her.
“Yeah, but you had to show off your knowledge, huh?” she attached the
StarkStell to her breast and lowered the night vision goggles to her eyes
because they had to leave the dimly lit corridor and enter the caves.
“Tony would be doing twirls in the air if he knew where you placed his little
gadget…Ooops! Don’t tell me you have the sonar application still on? Sending
data?” he arched his eyebrows and laughed.
Selina glared at him and though Bruce didn’t have night vision goggles he felt
it and chuckled.
“You’re on a spree, huh, kiddo?” she snapped strictly but in the end her lips
flickered forming a big grin; if Bruce could chuckle he wasn’t badly hurt.
“Actually, we are the same age, Selina…”
“I know.”
Selina fixed again Bruce’s arm around her neck: he had no control and sometimes
his arm slipped but in other respects he didn’t feel like a dead weight as a
paralyzed man; more like the night she found him intoxicated. So she had the
suspicion that Bruce had found a way to make his body lighter – she just hoped
that this wouldn’t worsen his condition.
As they detoured to the darkness of the passage the League didn’t use, the
StarkStell illuminated like the most powerful torch and Selina deactivated her
goggles.
“Your current course is straight ahead; at five feet you’ll turn to the left at
the huge stalactite.”
Bruce’s eyes widened.
“Is this…?”
Selina rolled her eyes.
“Your buddy…”
Bruce laughed.
“He put his voice in the GPS system…That Tony! I’m sure this is a special gift
to his female fans.”
Selina shook her head.
“And I’m sure a hit in sales…”
It was strange for Bruce to be erect again though he knew that his paralysis
and grounding didn’t last more than three days it seemed like ages. He was
really elated to have Selina at his side and be free but his light talking also
meant to distract her from his condition. Bruce knew that Selina was stressed
and afraid for him not knowing what had happened so he put aside all the
dreadful experiences and focused on managing to drag his legs even a bit. It
required much mental energy but Ubu’s brew was helping along with… something
inside him.
He was sensing the bat flying near and watching them yet the warm feeling from
the presence of his animal friend was undermined by a cold feeling: some other
red-blood eyes watching greedily.
“This is my realm, Bruce.”
 
Talia dressed in her traditional ninja attire was watching the screen relaying
the world news; her lips pressed determined and his eyes shining. Bane stood
behind her with his arms crossed and his eyes grim: he was angry for what that
bastard did to his beloved mistress but he had the wild satisfaction that Wayne
would be used for the League’s renaissance and their revenge.
Every major news outlet played constantly updates on the revelation of
S.H.I.E.L.D. being actually the League of Shadows and how an army of super
heroes and agents of the S.H.I.E.L.D. led by director Fury managed to eliminate
the danger of the mass destruction weapons the League had. They didn’t need
Fury to admit that Batman revealed everything.
Talia slapped the bench before her and stood; she would accelerate Bruce’s
brainwash and submission. Crane would have to work harder and more often
beginning…right now.
She marched out of the control room heading to Crane’s lab but suddenly stopped
at her heels frowning. Those two were Bruce’s room’s guards! They were ordered
to never leave their post!
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” she hissed and the men paled. “Who is with the
captive?”
They goggled like idiots and then remembered to bow their heads.
“Nobody, Mistress. Master Ubu, told us to follow him…”
He didn’t manage to say anything else because Talia jumped on him and broke his
neck in one smooth, swift move. She snifted angrily; everything was clear. She
clenched the second man’s throat.
“Where’s Ubu?”
“I don’t know, Mistress Talia” he replied calm though he knew that she’d punish
him with death as his comrade; her nails already stabbing his neck.
But she let him go and stormed towards Ubu’s room.
Her teacher waited her poised, unfazed by her wrath and icy eyes that shouted
murder.
“You betrayed me!” she yelled. “You helped Bruce go!”
Ubu locked eyes with her.
“I didn’t betray you, child; what I did actually saved you from something that
would have killed your body and condemned your soul” he shook his head.
“Bagdana would have destroyed you and taken Bruce.”
But she purged her lips, grinding her teeth and snorting like a beast before
attacking.
“Bruce has captivated you with his charm! You betrayed me for his sake: because
he didn’t want to serve me! You only care about him! He enchanted you! You
fucked him too, huh?!”
Ubu’s eyes flashed angrily.
“You don’t believe what you say now, child… I always had your best interests in
mind…”
“Bruce’s interests! You backstabbed me to save him! I bet you did the same to
my father!”
“Your family has tortured him enough: I warned your father that what he was
doing to the boy was gruesome, unforgivable and that he will be punished for
that if he didn’t let him go” he hissed. “He didn’t listen to me and tried to
tame the boy with more cruelty…and the Knife of Justice punished him” he shook
his head and pierced his former student with his intense eyes. “I was deeply
sorry for your father but it was too late for him. I don’t want the same fate
for you, child…”
Talia crossed her arms and pouted her lips disgusted. She nodded.
“So you led our enemies here to take Bruce, ruin my plans and imprison me…” she
grinned evilly. “But you’re right” she continued calm “I won’t have my father’s
fate: Superman is weak and I have the weapon to kill him, Ironman won’t have a
chance, I’ll find Bruce” she shook her head “you failed: he won’t escape and
you won’t be able to betray me ever again…”
With a rapid movement that Ubu saw but didn’t do anything to stop she pulled
the hidden gun from her belt and shot the older man in the chest. She
approached the slumped on the floor man and looked at him.
“I won’t let anyone destroy me: I know where you hid Bruce. Goodbye, Ubu: I
hope you burn in Hell for your treason” her eyes were slits “I won’t do you the
favor to ease your death.”
Ubu’s sorrowful eyes followed her as she took the two Katanas from the wall and
stashed them to her belt. She left the room without a glance behind and Ubu
prayed for Bruce and Selina to be at a safe distance and for his former
student’s blinded by arrogance soul. He was dying but he had Bruce’s
forgiveness to gift him peace.
Talia marched the corridor puffing from boiling ire: there was no other way for
Ubu to keep Bruce hidden till his friends defeat them; Ubu had hidden Bruce in
the caves but she knew the cave route too and though there were many passages
leading to that labyrinth, she would find her property: Bruce was paralyzed,
stuck somewhere there, unable to go anywhere. She frowned: unless Ubu brought
someone inside to take Bruce before the morons attacked.
She pressed the button on the intercom’s kit on the corridor’s wall. Bane was
still at the control room.
“Ubu betrayed us; our enemies are on their way probably attacking at any
moment. Ready the Kryptonite to disable Superman: don’t finish him off, just
capture him – I want Bruce to kill him” and hearing Bane’s affirmation “Ubu
took Bruce to the caves; I go there to bring him back. You stay here and beat
Superman to a pulp – Ironman’s armor will be dismantled and Stark useless.’’
She ended the communication and gestured to every man she met at the corridor
to follow her.
 
After a couple of minutes walking in narrow burrows that hardly contained them
erect, Tony’s sensual voice through the gadget informed them that on their
right was the big cavern.
“Thanks for the info!” Selina jeered. “I remember that place - actually, the
entire route.”
“I know” Bruce replied “you have excellent orientational skills.”
Selina grinned at him.
“But still I feel better having your buddy confirming.”
“Tony is your friend too.”
Selina nodded and inhaled deeply as the air became cleaner, a huge, wide cavity
opened before them decorated by stalactites and stalagmites sparkling to the
dim natural light forming archs or teeth. Water was slithering slowly on the
mineral formations adding new material. Selina noticed how fascinated was Bruce
seeing his favorite environment though there was also something else in his
eyes that she took as fatigue.
There was an aggregation of stalactites emerging from the floor in different
shapes and heights; some of them were flat and Selina led Bruce to sit there
always holding him to not fall backwards. Bruce looked at her.
“You’re exhausted, huh?” he asked her sorry.
Selina brushed his face staring at him worried.
“You need some breaths” and seeing his protest forming “I know you’re doing
something, Bruce - something exhaustive. You’re paralysed below the neck but
you don’t give the sense of one…”
Bruce rolled his eyes.
“Forget it, Selina; I’m fine. We must leave the caverns.”
Selina pressed her lips.
“But you love caverns…”
“Not at the moment…” he felt Bagdana’s presence strong inside him and his voice
was muttering things in his mind that he willingly shut out in order to keep
his focus on easing Selina’s effort. But it tired him. He was hasty to leave
the demon’s realm in case he managed to overcome Ubu’s repellents that were
faltering.
“You’re pale…” now that her eyes adjusted she could see the marks from Crane’s
needles over Bruce’s forehead and temples; she caressed them with her
fingertips and then the bruises in his wrists while her eyes took in the marks
of straps on his neck. “Bastards!” she gritted her teeth.
Bruce closed his eyes.
“It’s nothing, Selina…”
But she yanked her head.
“It’s no nothing, Bruce! Why should everyone torture you? Why everyone causes
pain to you?! I hate it!”
Bruce did the only thing that wouldn’t need much energy. He touched his
forehead to Selina’s; the girl was trembling from rage and sorrow.
“I’m fine, Selina” he whispered. “We’re going to be in Gotham soon and Alfred
is waiting us: nothing else matters.”
His voice was soothing her though the pain throbbed in her heart. But she
smiled reflecting Bruce’s smile.
“You have a lot of things to tell me” she joked.
Bruce narrowed his eyes.
“About the greenhouse…” she winked. “I didn’t forget the details you owe me.”
“Owe?” Bruce protested. “You never talked about your romantic life!”
She rolled her eyes.
“Romantic? Innocent boy… I didn’t talk because we never had the time” she
didn’t want to say that she never spoke about these things because it was a
sensitive subject for him. “But now we have the time you’ll tell everything!”
Bruce lolled his head.
“I’m an introvert person, you know…”
Selina knew how to read his every tiniest twitch so she understood that he was
eager to go. So she placed his arm around her neck and hugged his waist heaving
him, still not feeling the dead weight she should.
“And a shy, delicate flower” she mumbled as they left the great cavern behind
“and I want to know if that super hunk behaved as he ought!”
“Trying to pass curiosity and gossip as caring?” he chuckled. “Shy, delicate
flower…For Goodness' sake!”he muttered mock exasperated.
 
Superman and Ironman entered the base smashing the huge metallic door hidden
behind rocks heavy with lead and minerals that Tony knew that blinded his
drones and sat signals.
Tony blasted the rocks with a missile and Superman smashed the titanium door
with a punch. They stormed inside both of them scanning the premises with their
ways.
“It’s suspicious that they didn’t send a welcome commitee…” Tony mumbled.
“They don’t know we’re coming but still they should have some guards” Superman
agreed.
“They expect us…”
Clark’s guts clenched from worry: if they expected them, then…
“Bruce and Selina?” he asked managing to tame his fear.
“No, Selina sent me the signal: Bruce is with her and I have the signal of her
StarkStell constantly in my monitor. They head for the exit of the passage.”
Clark closed his eyes relieved.
“There are one hundred men scattered in the premises and maybe more hidden by
the minerals” he said and Tony muttered his agreement scanning as well the
place. “The control room is at the end of that corridor: a man is there. We
take down the men and destroy the control panel…”
“A man is bleeding heavily at a room, a bullet wound in his chest. His vitals
are very low…”
Superman turned to him: there was no chance he’ll leave and abandon again his
Star.
“Can you take him to a hospital?”
Tony didn’t want to leave either but he understood Superman’s state: the Man of
Steel was deeply in love and his agitation had peaked so arguing about who
should take the man to the hospital would only delay them and the wounded man,
as Bruce, didn’t have the luxury of time.
“Okay; I’ll be right back.”
Ironman vanished in red and gold blur following the corridor to the room the
man was dying stupefying with his stunning waves whoever found in his path. He
was thirsty to smash those motherfuckers but now the man’s life was his
priority and coming back ASAP to assist Superman because he was sure that the
League had some nasty surprises for them.
He felt the slight pressure of a magnetic field; only this wasn’t magnetic - it
was the same wave Stane used to disable his armor in their last confrontation.
He rolled his eyes: PLEASE! They believed that he would fall for this a second
time? This was how they intended to stop him?
His armor was brand new reinforced to not be affected by this so he entered the
room. The man was dressed like a Buddhist monk and was breathing calmly as if
sleeping and not having a bleeding hole in his chest. His eyes were open with a
tranquility that amazed Tony who immediately took a cloth and sliced a long
piece. He kneeled beside him. He was sure it was that Ubu guy who guided Selina
inside; the same who was Bruce’s teacher.
Tony pressed the cloth on the wood and tied it hard to staunch the blood flow:
being Bruce’s friend obligates you to know first aids and MOST IMPORTANT: being
composed enough to apply them. And in this case it proved very handy.
The man turned his eyes on him.
“Talia knows…” his voice was admirably steady as if he wasn’t badly wounded.
“She chases them… and she is outraged… Help your friends and let me…”
Tony yanked his head.
“No way, buddy! Bruce will kill me…”
He hoisted the man in his arms carefully to not aggravate the bleeding and took
off, his mind on Bruce and Selina in the guts of the mountain.
Superman had the pleasure of meeting several ninjas with Katanas positioned
there to stop him from reaching the control room. It was a real pleasure and a
pressure valve to break the bones of the people who harmed Bruce.
Obviously, they believed that their sharp swords could wound him and used their
impressive techniques to confuse and hit him. Yet although trained they weren’t
Bruce’s class and Clark with his super senses could watch, predict and stop
them. And even when their blades found him they broke startling their owners.
Evidently, they were told that Superman would be vulnerable and each wanted the
glory of killing him.
Bruce’s captors thought that Superman was still under the substance’s effect
and the previous battles had drained him. For one more time, he felt grateful
to his Star and craved to see him again: it seemed like ages since the night
Batman sneaked in his small apartment to see him and claim his love.
As his fist sank in the guts of one and his leg broke the ribs of another he
roared letting his ire at last steam out of his lungs.
He headbutted a third cracking his skull and used his laser vision to shatter
three blades simultaneously before using his super human speed to attack all of
them at once relishing the sound of split flesh and cracked bones, the yells of
surprise and agony.
In a couple of minutes, the corridor was filled with knocked out ninjas with
cracked skulls, ribs and legs. Superman clenched his fists and drew a deep
breath; it seemed to him that he was in a mist till then with no connection
with the world. Only one thought flashing in his mind: these people touched his
Star; these people helped Talia hold and torture Bruce. He inhaled again and
closed his eyes relieved that he didn’t kill anyone in his trance.
He marched to the control room. There was no other person there except than a
giant taller than him and broader; his head was covered with black silken cloth
that let visible only his sarcastic glimmering dark eyes and eyebrows. He was
Bane; he recognized the man from that day after Bruce’s testimony in
Metropolis’ court when he saw him and Talia taking Ra’s Al Ghul’s body. Clark
that day came exactly on time to stop them from hurting Bruce. Later hearing
some things he figured that that man was Bane, one of Bruce’s trainers.
Bane was staring at him with his arms crossed: his arrogance and irony flowing.
The giant was waiting to challenge him, sure for his supremacy. But for Clark
one thing mattered, one thing hit like thunder his brain and he wanted to howl
and rip Bane to pieces…
Bruce’s enchanting perfume was on the giant, in the most private parts of his
body and Superman’s every cell sighed in lustful remembrance simultaneously
with his erupting ire. Bruce’s perfume didn’t have the quality of his pleasure,
his orgasm, his calmness or even his anger; it had the quality of anguish, of
deep pain and disgust - Bane had raped his Star! That realization hit him like
a taser of a million volts.
He roared and stormed against him, his fist aiming at his head though he just
wanted to rip his genitals that had the stressed perfume of Bruce’s tortured
insides. He saw Bane’s glee in his eyes as the giant enjoyed Superman’s
realization.
With a slight movement Bane evaded Superman’s attack and cackled. Superman’s
lethal fist smashed the control panel sparkles jerking all over with smoke. The
Man of Steel rattled his teeth and yanked his head to see his enemy that
Bruce’s violated perfume already told him he was behind him.
“His ass is awesome” Bane sniggered. “Especially when you take him while he’s
kneeled, by force, while he clenches his teeth desperately to not weep like a
brat: have you ever fucked him that way?”
The heat vision blasted from Clark’s eyes without even realizing it but Bane
rolled his body, the floor blasting from the rays, and escaped causing his
opponent’s grunt.
“Ire is the worst companion in a battle” Bane snorted. “But I understand you;
you’re just an untrained freak with super powers - nothing special. You never
learnt the superior art of controlling your emotions. However I understand your
wrath: Wayne’s ass creates a need of possession! Even men greater than you fell
to this trap; with your laughable skill you couldn’t resist.”
“You raped him, you sick bastard!” this time Bane didn’t manage to avoid
Superman who tackled him on the floor punching him in the groin which made the
giant gasp and then cackle.
“The boyscout plays dirty? That’s a surprise! But you’re not yourself lately,
huh? Weaker, slower, more stupid… You must be real stupid to consider what I
did to Wayne ‘rape’. He was used like this his entire life - he was born for
this, to be a heavily used whore: he doesn’t deserve anything more.”
Bane’s gleeful eyes stared at Superman’s eyes that had lost their blue color
for red. He grabbed Bane from the lapels of his military jacket and lifted him
ready to smash his ribs with his other hand. But Bane lowered his fist and
stopped Superman’s hand before contacting him and hammered the Man of Steel on
the ribs keeping him trapped holding his hand.
Clark kicked him hard on the ribs hearing the cracks and sent him to the
opposite wall but the giant though slumped on the floor was chuckling. He was a
real giant and Clark couldn’t stop himself from thinking Bruce restrained and
suffering the vicious thrusts of this beast aiming to cause pain; he shuddered
and then his stomach became a knot remembering Bruce’s newly healed S2-S4
section. His breath became uneven: he had healed the injury but still the spine
was sensitive – maybe not from common external blows but internal pressure and
especially from a giant like this… His Star needed to be handled with care and
softness not being pounded like a box sack.
“You know” Bane turned his head staying on the floor “I always hated Wayne but
I can’t deny that he is quite the fuck! I made him squeal and moan and whimper
like a cheap, street hooker” he arched his eyebrows “I brought his real self to
the front – he actually bled… And he shouldn’t because a veteran hooker like
him…”
But Superman was already on him, his eyes blazing like a high voltage naked
cable. He lifted him, pinning him to the wall and the giant’s eyes were
smirking as he revealed a green glowing rock with black veins, the lead box
laid open on the spot Bane was slumped.
Clark’s eyes widened.
 
“The second great cavern is at your left, turning on the huge stalagmite.”
Bruce could feel Bagdana’s presence strengthen inside his head and he knew that
that meant only one thing: Ubu’s repellents were losing their power.
“Selina, we must hurry” he said determined and she nodded.
“It’s not very far, Bruce” she replied as they crossed the great chamber as
fast as they could; Bruce actually managing to force his legs to slither.
“Enough!” a high-pitched, sarcastic order echoed throughout the big cavern.
Bruce turned his head to see Talia to the cave’s entrance under the stalagmite
they just passed. She smiled evilly and Bruce felt Selina vibrating with anger.
Talia smiled seeing Bruce’s defiance sparkling in his narrowed eyes relishing
the stray locks framing his forehead.
“You won’t get away, Bruce” she hissed shaking her head “I won’t let you go:
you’re my property” she arched her eyebrows. “And your attempt to escape not
only will fail but also you’ll see your friends dying! Exactly as my father
warned you but you chose to ignore him.”
Bruce shook his head setting his jaw.
“The game ended, Talia; stop this: there are more dangerous things that
threaten all of us!” he could feel Bagdana’s ire and lust beating in his head.
Talia grinned wryly revealing her gritted teeth.
“You and your friends are the only threatened. I took the King and I won’t let
him go: the game ended when I checkmated you!”
“Life isn’t a chess game…”
“Says the Pawn who defeated two Kings and became the King!”
“I had enough of her shit!” Selina snapped and let gently Bruce on the ground
stretching her posture to glare at Talia. “And I wanted so much to tell you
some things… up personal!” she lolled her head.
She crossed the cave with two rapid backflips and stood before Talia stabbing
her with her flared up eyes.
“You did too much harm to Bruce, bitch! You should have thought it more before
laying a finger on him!”
Talia sniggered and arched an eyebrow looking arrogantly Selina.
“I guess you were the one I ought to have thought? You’re stupid, my dear!
You’ve got no chance against me!”
Selina shrugged.
“Prove it, bitch!”
Talia set her jaw and began a stampede of punches that Selina easily thwarted
with her palms blocking Talia’s, a wry smile always at her face. Talia growled
and launched a lethal kick aiming at Selina’s head causing a gasp from Bruce
but Selina ducked casually and hit Talia’s inner thigh with the back of her
hand.
But Talia didn’t even flinch trained to withstand pain; instead she tackled
with her other leg Selina’s legs ‘cutting’ her calves. However Selina managed
to avoid most of the hit and jumped to the air making a somersault landing a
hard kick to Talia’s chest who staggered but took advantage of the blow’s
impetus to make a backflip and land on her feet. She shook her head.
“So you’re good…” Talia snorted and arched her brows. “Nice, I’ll enjoy more
your killing!” Selina smirked. “And I didn’t lay only a finger on dear Bruce”
she chuckled casting a longing stare at him. “He’s already my sex slave, you
know…”
Selina’s eyes flashed and she roared like an ancient warrior jolting to the air
and trapping Talia’s neck between her legs flipping her to the stone ground.
“Filthy scum!” she tightened her grip but Talia was smirking. “I’ll rip you to
pieces for what you did!”
“Big fucking deal! Because you jump like a monkey that doesn’t make you a
fighter…”
“Selina, be careful!” Bruce shouted but Talia headbutted Selina’s inner thigh
paralyzing her leg and then used her hands to twist Selina’s knees.
Freed from Selina’s grip Talia jumped to her feet jerking her head to restore
the blood flaw; her face glowed gleefully as she turned to Bruce.
“And that’s all from your lady friend, pet!”
“Don’t call Bruce a pet!” Selina said dryly, threat vibrating her voice as she
landed in front of Talia catapulting her to the stone wall with a kick in the
chest.
Talia was shocked not so from the hit as from the fact that Selina recovered
from her crippling grip immediately. She frawned on the realization.
“Ubu trained you…” she hissed because Ubu had taught that move to her as the
way to recover from it.
Selina approached her clenching her hips with both hands.
“Wow! Your insane head makes logical conclusions too? I’m amazed!” she jeered.
Talia jumped to her feet and yanked her head, some locks having escaped her
tight bun.
“You’ll be more amazed if you look behind you…”
But Selina had already heard the light feet that stormed at Bruce from the
other entrances of the cave. Talia’s men. She gritted her teeth and rushed
there.
 
 
Superman tensed seeing the special Kryptonite in Bane’s hand and his opponent
cackled.
“Your boy-toy will be your death…” he hissed gleefully. “His hot body that I’m
sure you were ecstatic to fuck weakened you” his teeth rattled. “Your toy made
your body sensitive to this Kryptonite and now you’re going to be defeated and
humiliated because of that bitch’s fantastic smelling asshole!” he smiled
seeing Superman’s frown. “At least, during your passing you’ll have beautiful
memories accompanying you!”
Bane jerked his enormous fist launching a blow at Superman’s jaw that were the
Man of Steel really affected by the Kryptonite, would have smashed his bones.
But Superman stayed still to take the full blow scorning at Bane whose smirk
vanished instantly when his fist was met with compact steel and his bones
cracked.
The giant held his injured hand in the air dumbfounded goggling at Superman,
the special Kryptonite loose at his other hand.
Clark was deadly serious, calm; even his raging anger at bay. He grabbed the
fist-sized special Kryptonite and keeping his eyes locked with Bane’s narrowed
eyes clenched his fist pulverizing the stone; flinching but determinedly
staying undettered as Bruce’s blood dripped to the floor freed from the rock.
He raised his fist and with an uppercut restrained just to not kill launched
the giant in the air to crash on the smoking control bench, blood splattering.
He had seen in Bane’s hand traces of Bruce’s flesh and blood a proof that the
giant hit Bruce while he was captive and restrained.
Superman strutted slowly towards Bane who staggered to stand at his feet;
Clark’s eyes were icy still focused on his opponent, the wrath having stilled
the blood in his veins.
“Bruce isn’t a toy: he healed what your devious dead Master did to me and
immunized me to that little rock” he arched his eyebrows. “You really thought
that you are smarter than Bruce?” he smiled.
Bane’s jaw throbbed as his already sensitive bones shattered from Superman’s
uppercut but his eyes didn’t lose anything from their irony and malice.
“Your toy will die unable to defend himself and you’ll fail, alien freak!” he
stormed at Superman clenching his fists and began hammering him as soon as
reached his body.
Clark actually felt pain from the enormous man’s blows and that made him cringe
on the thought of Bruce being tied and pounded by those hands. Probably the
savage battered him as Bruce struggled to stop his rape.
And that lit every fire inside his body erasing every other thought: only
thirst for well deserved punishment. He slipped from Bane’s uppercut and kicked
him hard in the thigh, breaking the bone; but the giant managed not only to
keep his balance but also kick with his good leg Superman’s kidney. Clark
clenched his teeth and blocked Bane’s punch aiming at his ear, hooking him at
his lever and then catapulting him with a cross.
The giant staggered dizzy but still raised his fists to hit again managing to
find Superman’s chest but the Man of Steel had had enough and the worry for
Bruce and Selina urged him to finish the job. He blocked Bane’s punching hands
which worked like a machine and began pounding him: in the ribs, in the
stomach, in the pelvis - he knew how much pain that pelvis caused to his Star
and probably damage. Bane tried to resist attempting to hit the pressure points
in Superman’s body yet Superman had learnt from the best. With his super speed
stopped Bane’s fingers crushing the giant’s finger bones.
When Superman stopped the giant fell on the floor unconscious and Clark knew
that he had broken most of his bones… and he didn’t feel any remorse. Because
he knew that Bruce’s pain was worse and more lasting than broken bones.
Now he had to find the two orphans: he could hear Bruce’s heartbeat at last and
it was as if new energy flooded through him.
“I’m coming, Star” he muttered and turned with red eyes at the entrance where
he had heard that more men waited to stall him.
The ninjas rushed on him but he blew and the might of the air sent the first
men to crash on the walls.
“Stark is here, baby!” Tony cried as he stunned with his energy wave the first
men he met as Ironman came from the opposite direction. “Save some fun for me!”
But something else caught his attention: on his right he detected a lab and a
human presence there. He pointed his finger to the lock and the mechanism
unlocked. He marched inside and saw a lean, small man dressed in a suit
gathering in haste his stuff in a suitcase.
Ironman’s data gave him immediately his ID: Dr. Jonathan Crane, former head of
the Arkham Ayslum and convicted for collaboration with Falcone, production of
illegal psychotropic drugs and experimentation to mental patients; Bruce had
told him about Crane. And Tony didn’t need his scanner’s report on whose DNA
was on Crane’s horrible stuff to know that Crane with Talia’s orders
experimented on Bruce.
His teeth clenched and his eyes flashed more than his lenses.
Crane raised his hands, trembling.
“I’m their hostage!” he yelled pretending the scared and innocent walking
towards Tony.
“You’re their mad scientist who tortured Bruce, sick motherfucker!”
On that Crane smiled evilly and stormed at Tony spraying his faceplate with
fear toxin: he knew that from there Stark should be taking air to renew his
supplies.
“You’ll feel the same terror as your petty friend, you arrogant spoilled brat!”
he hissed.
But he was unaware that Tony’s helmet had a special mechanism for neutralizing
any harmful gas and his eyes bulged when Ironman shot him with his electricity
beam sending him to crash on the working bench.
Tony was enraged: that worm had tortured his little guy and bragged about that.
He armed his grenades and raked the floor around the doctor with bullets that
although didn’t hit Crane created a hellish atmosphere with bangs and smoke.
The insane doctor hid his head.
“How it is to feel the terror you torture people with?”
He wanted to continue but heard Superman taking off so he blasted Crane with
his stunning waves and burst outside only to bump into Thor.
“What are you doing here?”
“I left the others because I felt Bagdana’s power unleashed: the place isn’t
protected anymore. The demon comes for your friend” Tony lifted his faceplate
feeling that he was suffocated and Thor gulped on the human’s deep worry. “I
came to help!” he lifted his glowing hammer suggestively.
 
Selina with two somersaults landed between the men who already had grabbed
Bruce; he had headbutted the first, the ninja staggering backwards startled,
but a second was attacking now the paralyzed man who dazed his attacker with
his eyes only to be chokeheld from behind by a third.
It was too much for Selina and she roared outraged: Bruce’s head was already
injured and these scum deteriorated his condition. Her stiletto heel found the
one choking Bruce right on the forehead sending him bleeding and screaming at
the rocks while she grabbed with both hands the other and twisted his neck
knocking him out.
“Thank you” Bruce told her.
“Don’t mention it, sweetie” she replied and left him to confront the others who
ran to them from the side entrance of the cave.
But Bruce couldn’t stay like this watching his friend struggling alone though
she was a spectacular fighter as her agile body bent graciously dancing lethaly
with her opponents. He closed his eyes cursing the bullets that burnt inside
his body and clenching his teeth dragged his body: if he managed to elevate
himself to the surface of the rock he might suceed to help Selina.
His back was grazed by the rough surface and his inability frustrated him.
Selina was striking two opponents at once with a reverse kick and a hit with
the elbow and before landing her foot she jerked it once again to an uppercut
that sent the ninja staggering.
Bruce smiled proud of her but then his guts clenched seeing Talia brandishing
two Katanas storming soundlessly at Selina who was too absorbed drawing her
opponent’s head to her jerked knee.
His eyes found the emerald eyes of his bat and locked with them.
“Help me…” he uttered the rarest words for him and he saw Lilith’s eyes
mingling with the emerald.
He was astounded to feel his body doing what he had sketched in his mind. He
was behind Talia as her swords lowered to slay Selina. He caught both blades
between his bare palms and stopped their rapid descent; it was difficult,
draining him but he made it.
Talia frowned shocked unable to understand who stopped her; her eyes bulged
seeing Bruce and grunted trying and not managing to take her swords from her
captive’s grip.
“So you decided to embrace your demon side, huh, pet?” she tightened more her
grip on the Katanas’ hilts trying to free them even if severing Bruce’s hands.
“Your new quality will be highly appreciated in our next sex session with
Bane!”
Selina turned flustered and her eyes widened seeing Talia behind her with two
swords aiming at her and Bruce upright holding the blades between his palms;
her friend’s face was sweaty from the superhuman effort to save her. The young
woman pressed her lips and kicked Talia on the ribs, the Mistress of the
Shadows staggered dragging with her one of the Katanas the other clattering on
the rocks; Bruce was collapsing to the ground but Selina caught him in her arms
before crushing. And Bruce using her support willed his leg to hit the ninja
storming at Selina launching him and along the second coming.
“Thank you” Selina mumbled “but please don’t worsen your condition. Stay down.”
She had hardly placed gently Bruce on the base of a small stalagmite when Talia
rushed again at her with eyes flashing madly. Bruce formed the mental image of
his hand grabbing the Katana beside him and willed his hand to catch it; the
emerald eyes of the bat flashed and Bruce feeled as if he was in a dream but
was glad the Katana was clenched in his grisp.
Selina was dodging Talia’s glimmering blade but there were also ninjas
attacking her and she had to fight in two fronts.
Talia’s blade lowered rapidly to hit Selina but a loud clad stopped it for the
second time and she grunted outraged.
“It’s cowardish using weapons when your opponent is weaponless!” Bruce snapped
at her trying to balance in his legs and hold Talia’s force.
“But you’re not weaponless!” Talia yelled manic and detached her sword aiming
this time at Bruce who managed to block again the Katana.
Selina’s heart raced urging her to defend Bruce but ninjas had engaged her in a
battle she couldn’t escape; her despair for Bruce transformed in fierce blows
at her opponents. Where were those boys? She shouted in her mind.
Bruce was fencing with Talia grateful to his bat and Lilith for giving energy
to his paralyzed body. He felt pain but he was used to ignore it even though he
knew that later he’d pay the price. He stopped Talia’s blade with his elbow and
sliced her rib with his own: he could have killed her but he wasn’t a killer.
However Talia raised her leg and kicked him in the spot where the bullet in his
waist throbbed - Bruce screamed and his voice echoed inside the cavity stopping
Selina’s heart and breath.
Bruce lost his balance and crashed on the floor hardly managing with his Katana
to block Talia’s blade aiming at his head - the woman’s eyes sparkling evilly
and her teeth rattling as she pressured more her property’s trembling hand.
“Checkmate, Bruce!” she cried as Bruce’s hand bent.
An earsplitting sound rocked the mountain and Talia was thrown from a green
wave of energy at the cave’s deep end and the ninjas at the surrounding walls.
Selina looked around startled searching for Bruce who slumped on the ground was
staring at the giant who emerged from the split earth’s guts.
Selina gasped; he was more than nine feet tall and broad like a bulding, his
naked torso covered with bulged, perfect granite colored muscles. His face was
human but instead of hair he had silver spikes leading to two horns ejecting
from his forehead. His eyes were two red-blood cat-like slits and but for two
steaming nostrils he didn’t have any nose. Bagdana had come for Bruce! She felt
blood oozing from her stinging heart; demon or not she won’t let him take her
friend.
Bagdana stabbed Bruce with his eyes, his presence looming over the slumped man.
Bruce was sweaty, covered with blood, his hair messy and his breath uneven from
overexertion but his human vulnerability was incredibly appealing to the demon.
“That’s the end, Bruce: I won’t let humans torture and kill you!”
He turned slowly his head watching Selina as she reached Bruce and sat beside
him cuddling her friend as she was doing all these years behind the huge
garbage bin at Dolcetto. They were just the two of them again.
“Move away from him, human! Your friendship was insufficient.”
Bruce’s eyes flashed and he set his jaw determined.
“I’m the only one to decide that! You’re the one who should get lost!” his
heart was racing painfully, Ubu’s warning drumming in his throbbing head: if he
claims your body for a third time, you’ll be his, eternally.
Bagdana’s wrath was visible in two small explosions in his eyes, his fists
clenched from his wayward mate’s dismissal but he restrained himself.
“Tell her to move away or I’ll blow her!” he roared at Bruce who narrowed his
eyes angrily but determined to push his friend away to not get hurt.
But Selina realized and tightened her embrace.
“Never!” she spat at the intimidating demon and her eyes spit fires.
“As you wish, foolish human!”
“I won’t let you!” Bruce shouted clenching his jaw and pushed his body in front
of Selina.
Bagdana roared frustrated.
“Stop being stubborn, Bruce! Today you’ll come with me!”
“He won’t go anywhere!’’
A rush of air crossed the cavern and Superman tackled the demon and Bruce’s
eyes stayed on Clark fearful: the Man of Steel was a demi-God but they were in
the demon’s realm. Selina didn’t hesitate; jolted to her feet dragging Bruce
along.
“Take Bruce and run!” Superman yelled catching her move with the corner of his
eye as he was rolling on the ground tangled with the gargantuan demon.
“Let’s go!” she said to Bruce clenching her teeth.
“No!” he retorted stilling his legs.
“You stubborn brat!” Selina hissed and dragged him to the cavern’s exit.
Superman began pounding the demon’s body which dissolved with every punch only
to reemerge right away as if he was hitting water or air except that his fists
ached as if hitting granite.
The demon chuckled and pressed Superman’s chest to remove him but the Man of
Steel grabbed Bagdana’s throat and sank his fingers inside…whatever the demon
was made off and turned his eyes in laser vision piercing the demon’s eyes
which instead of getting damaged absorbed greedily the beams.
“I told you, idiot alien, that fire is my element!” he sent the laser he
absorbed back to Superman’s eyes and Clark tried to turn the demon’s head to
the side to not get hit, for the first time in his life finding it impossible
to overcome the resistance. “You’re nothing!” Bagdana roared and his lasers
almost hit Superman’s eyes when the demon turned his head to Bruce and Selina
moving.
He made a movement with his head and the two humans were tossed away from the
exit. Superman’s eyes widened in dread and he struggled in vain to escape the
demon’s grip to save them but he saw something like a cloud forming under Bruce
protecting him from the rocks and the youth pulled Selina with him not letting
her crash.
Superman taking advantage of Bagdana’s absorption in Bruce blew frozen air to
him immobilizing the demon and kicking him in the guts. He rolled the demon
clenching his teeth and headbutted him hearing satisfied a grunt of pain but
immediately Bagdana jerked his arms and legs breaking the ice and launching
Superman to the wall shards of ice scratching his body.
Bagdana rose and stretched his terrifying posture looking arrogantly at the Man
of Steel.
“Humans consider you a God but you’re nothing but a worm with overestimated
powers… Powers…” he sniggered. “Fireworks to impress little humans!”
The demon charged to smash Superman but he clenched his fists and stormed to
meet him at full speed; their collision shook the cavern as if an earthquake
hit and Bruce with Selina could see only a blur of fists smashing invulnerable
bodies and blasts from eyes that more often than not hit the stalactites.
Bruce’s heart was racing, his breath caught, terrified for Clark. Selina was
anxious about Clark but also struggled to get away from the cloud that glued at
their limbs holding them put.
Bagdana rolled Superman under him his palm pressing his throat choking him
while his other hand jerked to the air, his six inches nails glimmering like
blades lowering to Superman’s heart.
“No!” Bruce yelled and recruiting again his courage and the strength his
protectors gave him dismounted from the cloud; Selina trying in vain to catch
him. “Don’t harm him, you bastard!”
Bagdana turned to his mate and smirked.
“I’ll bestow you his heart!”
“No!”
But the demon jerked startled from a blast of energy from Tony’s both soulder
cannons.
“Time to go back where you came from, dude!”
Bagdana without letting Superman’s throat turned to hit Ironman only to see
Thor hitting his hammer on the ground blue power running the distance rapidly
twirling around the demon and twisting him to the air.
Superman freed took a breath and made to reach Bruce: he felt his Star’s body
too cold, under the normal human temperature, and his heart beating arrhythmic.
But Bagdana turned his eyes to Bruce and a golden bubble enclosed him.
Then the demon stretched horizontally his arms and Thor’s energy shattered.
Bagdana stared at the glaring norge God.
“Thor of Odin with Mjolrin” he roared. “You think you can defeat me with your
toy because you happen to be a second class god?” he sniggered.
Thor gritted his teeth and raised Mjolrin to the air.
“Go to the Tartarus, Bagdana!” he shouted and little thunders surrounded the
glowing hammer before the blond god turned it to the demon launching full
length and power thunders to hit him.
Selina closed her eyes and ducked her head crawling to the ground towards Bruce
who was jailed in the golden bubble.
Superman fired his laser vision against the demon simultaneously with the
thunders and Tony launched everything he had. A huge fire the size of the demon
emerged and all of a sudden the demon emerged his power radiating and hitting
his three opponents sending them to crush in the wall.
“You’re not Zeus, little Thor and your toy was forged by me in the guts of
Olympus thousands of years before Hephestus played with fire and metal! I’m
older than the Earth: you and entire Azgard can’t touch me! I have my mate by
me and I’m powerful” he turned his softened gaze to Bruce who glared daggers at
him. “And in a while I’ll be whole again!”
“This will never happen!” Bruce growled and Superman stood strengthened.
Bagdana was smirking at Bruce so the wave of frozen air from Superman’s lungs
took him by surprise; Tony’s eyes flashed and he launched the cryogenic rockets
that released liquids freezing instantly the target. Thor pointed Mjolnir at
the demon unleashing hailstones and frozen air.
Selina smiled and rushed to Bruce’s jail in hopes that the confinement
weakened.
Superman charged at Bagdana hammering the frozen giant trying to pulverize him
now that the ice incapacitated him. He was so angry, so desperate to eliminate
the danger for Bruce that he felt tears flowing on his clenched face muscles.
Tony hovered over the demon spraying him with the special freezing foam he had
for quenching chemical fires in order to extend Bagdana’s immobility while Thor
hit his hammer on the ground opening a deep crack to shove the demon back to
the Tartarus.
Bruce’s heart pounded in his chest; he craved to fight along with them and
simultaneously he had a dreadful feeling.
“Only the Knife of Justice can send Bagdana back…”
He sensed the Knife safely stuck in his waistband but his teeth clenched
hearing Bagdana’s self confident laugh in his head.
“Look out!” he yelled.
But Bagdana with a roar that made the entire mountain shake and several
stalactites shatter catapulted his attackers to the walls taking again his
granite texture. He cackled and walked towards Superman who felt real pain in
his back which had cracked the stone; the Man of Steel glared at the demon and
fisted his hands to attack again – his anger mightier than the pain.
“Worm from Krypton! You thought that you could steal my mate?”
“I’m not your mate, you sonovabitch!” Bruce shouted.
But Bagdana continued unfazed lolling his head.
“You had the stupidity and the audacity to claim my mate and now you think you
can defeat me! I’m the master of all minerals!”
He began glowing, his body taking the texture of ruby, blue topaz, citrine,
amethyst, sapphire, emerald and a realization dawned in Bruce’s racing mind.
The spectacle was amazing and intimidating but Superman rushed at him clenching
his jaw. And then Bagdana’s body took the texture of something evilly green and
glowing and Superman gasped collapsing to his knees, rasping. Kryptonite!
Bagdana’s laughter shook the cave.
“Some God! Your demise depending on a cheap mineral!” chains from Kryptonite
wrapped Superman.
But his laughter was cut by Tony’s and Thor’s attack, both of them flying to
tackle him yet the giant irritated moved his hands and human and God were tied
in chains made of an unknown metal.
“Stop it!” Bruce shouted at him his eyes flared up. “You’re killing them! I’ll
never become what you want! You can’t force me, you can only kill me as you
killed Lilith! Because you don’t love” he yanked his head proudly “you don’t
know to love only to possess and kill! Lilith found the true love and you
killed her!”
Bagdana’s teeth rattled shaking again the cave and he stormed at Bruce’s cage.
“Bruce, no…” Clark whispered and Tony’s eyes bulged with dread as Selina’s
breath stopped.
But Bruce looked at his demon defiantly, his eyes never leaving the demon’s
burning red eyes as the first time the demon violated him.
“You can kill me but I’ll never be yours!”
“I never killed Lilith!” he roared hurt and outraged. “Her choice killed her as
yours will!”
And suddenly Bagdana was inside grabbing Bruce’s upper arms bruisingly and
lifting him – everyone thought that he was going to kill the young man but the
demon cupped Bruce’s face with both hands and yanked it.
“Humans tortured you your entire life; humiliated; used you; they almost killed
you – I won’t let your love for these people lead to your death again. I’ll
take you to my realm where you’ll be safe and will regain your full strength
and powers…along with me. We’re going to rule and create new worlds again!”
“I’m not her!” Bruce yelled his body in the demon’s grasp had become again
completely limb, the strength he felt during the confrontation with Talia lost.
Bagdana nuzzled Bruce’s face, his burning lips sucking his bent neck.
“But you are: her blood runs in your veins, her flesh, her perfume…”
Bruce yanked his head.
“Don’t touch me!”
Bagdana jerked his hand and struck Bruce’s cheek; Bruce’s head lolled to the
side and Bruce wondered how it wasn’t detached from his body, his cheek in pain
as if it had burned.
The demon closed his eyes and breathed calmly; he brought his mouth above the
burnt human flesh and blew gently restoring the damage. He caressed tenderly
the healed cheek and cupped again Bruce’s face bringing the youth’s eyes to
lock with his.
“You’re going to remember! And feel!” he roared and his mouth captured Bruce’s
mouth, his thick, rubber-like tongue thrusting inside, reaching his throat.
Bruce was choking, the air ending rapidly making his head spin.
He saw white glimmering horses galloping to the dark sky, their snow white
manes flapping. He could see that they had one horn at their beautiful
foreheads: Unicorns! Exactly as in the fairytales of his childhood! And in
their head, the proudest of all, a silver Unicorn who galloped in front of the
new moon, a naked woman stood on his back, her waist long, raven-blue hair
dancing in the air sending sparkls around. A small leaf on her shoulder.
Suddenly, a giant appeared before her and he was Bagdana, his face softened and
glowing with lust. And she embraced him bringing him on the flying horse, their
bare naked bodies immediately united, their mouths locked in a kiss that seemed
like a passion storm. Bagdana and Lilith.
Lilith’s porcelain white arms roamed greedily Bagdana’s enormous deltoids her
neck bending to get more of his burning sucking; three pairs of male hands
giving pleasure to her body as the enormous length already impaled her body
making her gorgeous back shiver and dance sensually and manic to enhance her
pleasure. Their moans and grunts made the sky shook but the horses kept their
pace; the silver Unicorn hosting the coupling of the two rulers of Earth.
And then Bruce could see Bagdana’s fervent eyes reflecting his mate and he
shuddered: it was Bruce in Bagdana’s irises with closed eyes enjoying the
demon’s ministrations, his messy sweaty locks short, his tense muscles bulging
as he writhed in pleasure…
The sky dissolved abruptly and Bruce saw Bagdana’s confident grin. He was
hovering held by the demon and suddenly his clothes tore in shreds falling from
his body leaving him completely naked; Bruce heard with dread the clang of his
dagger but thankfully Bagdana was too absorbed to notice. His legs were grabbed
and brought around Bagdana’s hips, the demon’s monstrous length fully erect and
dripping, a third pair of hands stretching him.
“Stop this…”
But Bagdana’s hard as stone length was already pressing to enter.
“Our third union will be in front of them to show them you’re mine! Let’s show
Superman to whom you belong!”
Superman weakened by the Kryptonite was watching horrified like everyone else.
He could see his Star’s back marred by lashes, two bullets in his spine; but
the most horrid was that Bagdana was violating him and Superman couldn’t do
anything.
Bruce gulped his shivers.
“You can take the form of every gem and mineral except one…”
Bagdana was shaking from lust, the time of their final and eternal union a
breath away but he listened curious.
“You can’t take the form of the diamond” Bruce calmed his breath. “The diamond
is too pure, too adamant for you to bend…You didn’t create the diamonds…You’re
afraid of diamonds” it was difficult maintaining the steadiness of his voice
when Bagdana’s penis was pressing to enter him. “Diamond can kill you and
there’s one diamond that is the strongest of all: a diamond that has every
diamond’s color in it – the black diamond!”
Bagdana frowned and his hot breath grazed Bruce’s face.
“Nemesis blocked your powers with a black diamond and enabled the gods to
defeat you.”
Bagdana smirked.
“I’m honored you made such research for me – that indicates you’re interested…”
But Bruce unfazed by his taunt glared at him determined.
“The Black Butterfly. Can weaken you.”
“It’s useless in a lousy Museum; its twin forever lost.”
Bruce yanked his head.
“I’m the owner of the lost Black Butterfly” Bagdana narrowed his eyes. “This
was what thwarted you every time you tried to violate me.”
Bagdana smiled wryly.
“You don’t have it with you now…” he dragged his words.
“I don’t need to have it with me…” his hands were still numb, the dagger lying
on the floor; he searched with the corner of his eyes the emerald eyes…and
found them looking intense at him: please, give me the strength! He yelled
inside his head. “I’m connected with the Black Butterfly because Lilith’s is
not the only DNA in me: what you couldn’t see was the DNA of Nemesis’ high
priest!”
Bagdana saw the emerald stars in Bruce’s eyes sparkling and his mind returned
thousands years back to two other emerald stars that sparkled before draining
his powers and casting him helpless to Zeus’ attack. Bruce was Nemesis’ chosen?
“No…” Bagdana muttered. “This is why you petted the bats as a child… Why the
bats were guiding and protecting you…Why you became…”
Bruce felt the dagger touching his hand, his fingers closing tightly around its
hilt.
“No matter… You’ll be mine, you can’t stop that: I’ll erase Nemesis’ effect on
you down in my kingdom! Lilith’s blood will be the only in you!” Bagdana yelled
and made to thrust in Bruce.
Bruce clenched his teeth and felt again the Knife driving his hand and stabbing
Bagdana’s back at the center of his spine.
The demon cried and his roar of pain made the mountain tremble; his eyes were
filled with outrage and…hurt as regretful caressed with his eyes Bruce’s face
 the same time his enormous body began vanishing and crawling rapidly to the
crack Thor had opened. He saw Lilith’s eyes staring at him disapprovingly; you
won’t hurt any of my children…
Tony, Thor and Selina yelled with relief and joy as the demon evaporated but
Superman saw his Star falling rapidly to the ground and jerked his arms
smashing the chains to storm there; he took him in his arms, the sense of
Bruce’s frozen but still sweaty body revitalizing his and filling him with
exhilaration.
He tore his cape from his shoulders and wrapped swiftly Bruce’s naked body
storming to the cave’s exit.
“Wait!” Tony yelled. “You selfish alien!”
“I’m taking him to Leslie” Superman told them hastily and Bruce yanked tiredly
his head to smile at his friends.
But Superman sped again.
Thor freed from the demon’s chains as Tony walked to his comrade.
“Who is really your friend, Tony?’’ he demanded benevolently. “He is Batman,
right?” he whispered.
Tony deactivated his battered faceplate and glared at the Norge God.
“God or not if you speak I’ll kill you!” he snarled and their stares locked in
a combat before both of them erupted in good heart laughter.
“I’ll never betray such a warrior as him and a friend like you” Thor placed his
hands on Tony’s shoulders and he lolled his head to the side twisting his lips.
“The thing about the warrior can be attributed to me as well?”
But Selina had approached them rolling her eyes.
“Boys!” she huffed exasperated and pressed her index finger on Tony’s chest.
“You, handsome, owe me a ride.”
Tony grinned and shook his head looking at her playfully but with immense
gratitude.
“I owe you much much more, pretty” Tony said solemnly and Thor nodded.
Selina yanked her head.
“You owe me nothing but a ride to Leslie’s clinic…”
Tony nodded.
“My pleasure, My Lady!” he saluted military style and wrapped his arm around
her waist and Selina arched an eyebrow at his arm.
“Careful with that hand, big guy…”
Tony shook his head cocking his eyebrows.
“I wouldn’t risk it…”
“I’ll stay here to shut the hole and gather those” Thor said.
“Nice, blondie; you’ll find a lab and a scum stunned there: we’ll need him”
Tony said and tightened his grip on Selina’s waist taking off.
 
“This is my second favorite attire…” Bruce said looking at the red cape warming
a bit his trembling from exhaustion body; Autumn’s cool breeze brushing gently
his face since Clark hesitated to speed.
“What’s your first?” Clark asked smiling relieved.
“Batman’s armor…”
Clark chuckled: of course.
“Me too…”
“You too, what?”
“My cape on you is my second favorite of your attires.”
Bruce grinned.
“Your first?”
Clark smirked.
“Your bare skin…”
Bruce arched an eyebrow.
“You’re too naughty for a boyscout…”
Clark blinked feeling his eyes sparkling from happiness.
“Only for you and… I’m blushed but you don’t see it because it’s night.”
Bruce closed his eyes and smiled – though his body ached everywhere and he was
exhausted, it was nice to be safely held in a warm hug heading home.
Clark had X-rayed his Star’s body and was aware of how exhausted and hurt he
was.
“How am I always ending up in your arms?” Bruce chuckled staring at Clark’s
eyes; Superman’s face was smoked, dirty and bruised but Bruce found it
beautiful.
“Because I’m the fastest” he frowned “are you complaining?”
Bruce drew a deep breath.
“Of course not – I missed you…”
Clark closed his eyes and sighed.
“You have no idea…” he whispered and his gaze fell on Bruce’s hand that was
still clenched around the Knife’s hilt – damn it! He forgot it.
He caressed Bruce’s hand.
“Let me have that, Bruce: it’s over now.”
Bruce moved with difficulty his head and saw the Knife with the diamond blade;
he couldn’t move his hand but it felt as if it had melted and merged with the
hilt.
“I’ll give it to you later…” Clark promised softly believing that the younger
man felt insecure about detaching from the dagger that saved his and everyone’s
life.
“I can’t move my hand or my entire body” he said as if ashamed.
Clark cupped the human hand that trempled in his and kissed it, unclenching
carefully the cold, numb fingers one by one. He took the dagger and stashed it
in his waistband watching Bruce letting his head loll backwards, his eyes
closed, his breath even but faint. Clark’s heart bled and howled. He nestled
Bruce’s head carefully in his chest and kissed his cold forehead, his eyes
taking in the marks of Crane’s sessions and he clenched his teeth.
Bruce sensing his anger looked at him and Superman’s anger became ire as he
noticed the almost undetectable holes in his Star’s gorgeous eyes. They had
experimented on him! They tortured him! And he had already seen the marks in
his wrists and neck. His breath became a rasp and his eyes red.
“I’m gonna…” he rasped and his arms that held tenderly Bruce tensed.
Bruce blinked.
“Put them in jail…” he completed calmly.
“I want to kill them for what they did!”
Bruce’s eyes flashed.
“You’re not a killer…”
Superman avoided Bruce’s eyes.
“Times like this I wish I was…”
Bruce closed his eyes and his head lolled on Clark’s chest making the Man of
Steel curse himself for what he told. He caressed the human’s locks and
tightened his cuddling to warm him up.
“The League is over?” Bruce asked without raising his head.
“Yes.”
“I wish I had fought with you…”
Clark kissed his locks.
“You fought harder than all of us together…”
Bruce smiled unwilling to depart from Clark’s heart’s calm beat and warmth.
“You exaggerate…” he sighed.
“I know I don’t” Clark sighed. “You’re exhausted, Star…But now you’ll rest…with
me…in our Greenhouse…”
Bruce half raised his eyelids and chuckled.
“With you in our Greenhouse? I doubt I’ll rest…” he snorted.
Clark smiled.
“In my boyscout’s honor, I’ll just sleep spooning you for as long as you need,
you want…” to overcome what they did to you: he remembered Bane and then Talia
who had the same raped perfume of Bruce.
Bruce felt that he ought to tell him: he didn’t want any secrets between them
even if that new use sent away Clark.
“Clark, I’m sorry” he said determined and Clark frowned, his smile vanishing.
“They…” he sighed, he hated the word rape. “They raped me” his eyes locked with
Clark’s and the Man of Steel touched his Star’s burst lips with his mouth.
“I know, Bruce… I smelled it on them…I broke most of Bane’s bones.”
Bruce licked his lips feeling the throbbing in his lower spine worsening after
the adrenaline slowly ebbed.
“My spine…I mean the injury you healed, I think it’s again hurt.”
Clark knew already and it pained him as much as it pained Bruce but he smiled
reassuringly.
“Leslie will fix everything and I…” he chuckled but the sound was muffled with
tears of relief, joy and sorrow for the new pain he failed to protect Bruce
from. “I’m Superman, you know!”
Bruce smiled and let his eyelids half cover his orbs, the sparkling from the
irises clear. Superman glued Bruce’s body tighter to his as Gotham’s lights
came to view.
***** Chapter 71 *****
Montoya and Bullock stood over Gordon’s bed at Gotham’s General Hospital taking
orders: Stark had informed Dr. Thompkins that Superman was bringing back Bruce
Wayne and she notified the police as was obliged. Barbara who was visiting her
husband watched worried.
“I want Dr. Thompkins’ clinic a fortress: men guarding every entrance not
letting anyone without ID in; officers and undercovers patrolling the clinic’s
premises and the entire area; put snipers to the buildings around ready to
shoot. I want helicopters hovering over the area and entire Gotham. Joker is
still free and I don’t want that madman get near Bruce now that Superman is
bringing him home.”
His Lieutenants nodded and saw startled their Commissioner push the blankets
off him, rip the IV from his hand and grab the crutch that was leaned on his
nightstand.
“Jim?” Barbara narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing?”
Montoya supported her superior as he took off his robe. Jim looked at his wife
determined but understanding.
“I must be out there to have a better impression and management of the
situation…” he opened the nightstand’s drawer, took the holster with his gun
and wore it. “Bruce Wayne has suffered too much and they just rescued him: I
won’t risk anything happening to him now that he needs tranquility to rest and
recover.”
Barbara stood up.
“But Superman will be with him and Mr. Stark is Ironman; also, you already sent
a small army to protect him. You need rest, as well, Jim!”
Jim cupped her face and looked her in the eyes.
“It’s my job to protect civilians: civilians are my priority” he widened his
eyes “even in Falcone’s reign, remember? I’m fine and I’ll have time to rest
when Joker returns to jail. Stay with the kids.”
He kissed her softly on the lips, put on the jacket Bullock was holding for him
and nodded to his Lieutenants.
Barbara sighed watching them leave the room.
 
Lois rushed inside Leslie’s clinic and as she expected met a controlled
upheaval. One of her sources called to tell her that Ironman brought to their
hospital at Saratoga a heavily injured man. The man was Asian dressed as a
Buddhist monk and had a bullet in his chest; also Ironman seemed too hasty to
leave.
And that rang the bell for her: the man was Asian which suited the League of
Shadows and Ironman was hasty to leave in order to return to a battle. Plus,
Clark didn’t answer her calls though he had returned in Gotham after the attack
on the League’s bases. That told her one thing which made her insides writhe
from enthusiasm: they found Bruce! And if they found Bruce there was only one
place they would take him for - hopefully, only - first aids: Dr. Thompkins’
free clinic.
She left her hotel and turned her car to the Narrows though it wasn’t much time
since she came back from there covering the riots. Maybe she was wrong - though
in the vast majority of the cases she wasn’t - but she didn’t want to miss the
chance to see a beaming Superman bringing back his baby.
In the clinic’s foyer, people were running and police officers asking the staff
information in order to take their places; at the nurse station, the
receptionist was taking orders from Leslie whose face was agitated, determined
and clenched despite the hint of relief in her bespectacled eyes which created
a bad feeling in Lois. Alfred was listening eager absorbing every word - the
old man was pale and his hand was in a sling.
Lois understood from her experience with relatives of missing people that when
they learn their people are heading home the initial reaction is shock and
disbelief and they need to see their loved ones to realize and express their
joy. She noticed Leslie’s and Alfred’s eyes on her and she blushed, especially
when the doctor marched towards her, Alfred at her heels.
“Dr. Thompkins, Mr. Pennyworth” she greeted them.
Leslie crossed her arms and scowled at her.
“The moment isn’t for the press, Miss Lane” she snapped but Alfred intervened
to smooth her words’ impression.
“Miss Lane, we would appreciate it if this very emotional personal moment
didn’t reach the media; Master Bruce needs peace after his new ordeal. You’re a
splendid, acknowledged reporter who doesn’t need this exclusive to boost her
career.”
His voice was poized but Lois felt the man’s agony for his son and his
pleading. She shook her head and addressed both of them.
“I assure you I’m not here as a journalist but as a friend…” both of them
looked appeased. “I was anxious to hear news about Bruce and see him well…” she
stopped abruptly as their eyes were unreadable. “He’s alright, isn’t he?”
Leslie fixed her glasses on her nose.
“We need to see him first…”
Then Lois remembered another info which at first didn’t seem to have some
connection but now it dawned.
“My Goodness!” she lowered her voice. “He’s injured! This is why Pepper Potts
took Stark’s jet to Metropolis? To bring a special doctor?”
Leslie yanked her head.
“How deep your connections go, Miss Lane?” she asked sternly, irritated.
“Nothing is certain, Miss Lane, so I’d like to ask from you to not divulge
anything.”
Lois felt frozen: Bruce was injured… So these monsters didn’t hesitate to
torture him… She imagined Clark’s state: poor Clark!
“Of course, Mr. Pennyworth, please don’t worry…”
She nodded to Leslie and the doctor turned and rushed towards the examination
rooms to settle things. Alfred greeted her politely and left; the shadow of
uncertainty and concern cast over his face. Lois bit her lip and wished Bruce’s
injury wasn’t so bad.
 
Superman was seeing Leslie’s clinic now and lowered to land on the roof’s
helicopter pad. Bruce raised slightly his head recognizing his beloved Gotham
from the sounds, the scent of the air and mostly from his heart’s jolt. Clark
smiled seeing the fondness in his Star’s eyes.
“You’re home, Bruce…”
Bruce closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the air of Gotham that most people
considered unhealthy was reviving for him. But still his body screamed in
protest tired, unbelievably tired and in pain - thankfully, his head was
somewhat better, relishing the knowledge that he was finally home and Superman
held him. In a moment, he’d see Alfred and Leslie again.
He stretched more his neck and kissed gently Clark’s swollen lips enjoying
Superman’s happily surprised look and his sparkling eyes staring at him.
“Between Leslie dragging me to exam rooms and Alfred’s care I won’t have the
chance to do it later…”
Clark’s grin lighted his face; he cupped the back of Bruce’s head, carefully as
handling the finest, priciest porcelain and locked their lips in a deep,
passionate kiss tasting the rare cinnamon of Bruce’s lips. The sapphire-emarald
eyes were watching eagerly Clark’s crystal blue eyes and Clark didn’t close
them even if the pleasure he was feeling urged him to do it.
He broke the kiss because he didn’t want to exhaust Bruce’s lungs.
“You’re right” Clark agreed and Bruce chuckled letting his head loll on that
chest of Steel that was so amazingly soft and warm.
Clark landed lightly as a cat on the rooftop where Leslie, Alfred, and…Lois
were already waiting and ran immediately to meet him dragging a gurney. He saw
their startled expresions on Bruce’s “attire” and Lois’ smile which ended up to
pressed lips when she realized that Bruce was bare naked and the cape was a
choice of need.
The gurney was laid in front of Superman obviously waiting Bruce but Clark
didn’t want to acknowledge it; anyway it seemed too cold to receive Bruce’s
frail body. Bruce’s eyes locked with his and Clark didn’t want to lose the
feeling of the human in his arms in case this turned up to be a dream and upon
laying him on the gurney he woke up to realize that Bruce was still lost.
Leslie looked at him with understanding but still firmly.
“Young man, you can lay Bruce on the stretcher; we’ll take over from here.”
Superman locked eyes with Bruce and Lois almost cried from the tenderness and
love that stare had: she understood why they didn’t want the press around.
Superman’s enemies would be eager to use his love against him targeting and
hurting an already tortured human being.
Bruce gave a tired nod and Superman placed him on the gurney gingerly as if he
was ready to shatter. His lips were pressed and his eyes reflected the
torturous void left in his arms but remained glued on the pale human whose body
trembled a bit having lost the warmth, physical and emotional.
And then Alfred unable to keep his cool anymore rushed to his young master
hugging him with his good hand that was enough to bury Bruce in his chest.
“Alfred!” Bruce yelled like a child, relieved to see his butler healthy after
the fears for him that accompanied him during his captivity. “Are you alright?”
But Alfred was feeling that his young master’s body was unresponsive, numb and
his battered face revealed everything. He laid Bruce on his back to caress his
cheeks and the youth gulped a grunt from his protesting body.
Alfred for the first time in his life was in a loss for words and he was acting
as a good butler would never act: he was caressing his young master’s battered
and dirty face and actually kissed his forehead. If it was some other instance
he’d have berated himself but now he didn’t care. One thing mattered: he was
relieved and happy and grateful that Bruce was returned to him.
“My precious boy...My good boy…” he kissed again Bruce’s forehead and the young
man felt wetness from the older man’s eyes.
Superman had always one eye focused on Bruce but simultaneously he turned to
Leslie, his distress for the first time visible. Leslie locked eyes with him.
“Two bullets are stucked in his spine: on his nape and waist; they whipped him,
they… they experimented on his brain, they…, his S2-S4 section is injured
again” he whispered in one breath and then stopped abruptly: he needed to tell
it to someone trustworthy but he found it difficult to utter the words - and it
was shameful to be so coward while Bruce was so brave. “Leslie, they… they
raped him…”
Leslie felt the pain that vibrated in Superman’s voice and flowed from his
eyes. She patted his upper arm and pressed her lips: what he said broke her
heart too, especially when she heard Alfred expressing his relief and joy
unaware of what happened.
“We’ll scan him and take care of everything.”
She turned hearing the sound of Ironman’s landing and saw him as battered as
Superman: it must have been a hell of a battle. Tony held Selina who jumped on
the roof before he touched down. She rushed at the gurney the moment Alfred
whispered to Bruce his apology.
“It was my fault, Master Bruce: if I haven’t left the Manor they wouldn’t have
captured you.”
Bruce smiled.
“It’s not your fault, Alfred… Please, don’t think like this…”
The fatigue was clear in the depths of his voice even though he tried to hide
it. Superman turned slightly his head taking in the signals and then addressed
Leslie.
“Please, help him sleep without nightmares - they tortured him through his
mind” Leslie nodded. “And… painkillers - he did incredible things but now his
body suffers.”
Leslie clenched her jaw.
“Don’t worry…”
She walked to the gurney determined to at last take Bruce inside, Selina and
Tony having joined Alfred.
“Time to go inside, son” she told Bruce. “But first we need to change your
attire: Superman’s cape on you will make quite the impression…”
Alfred brought the bag with the hospital gown and Leslie carefully began
unwrapping Bruce’s body; Superman flinching because his cape being taken off
his Star seemed as if taking away his protection and actually Bruce’s battered
body reacted, slightly trembling from the cold night breeze and the loss of
Superman’s perfume but Leslie immediately wrapped him with the isothermal
blanket.
Lois approached Superman who attached the cape to his shoulders taking comfort
from Bruce’s aroma the fabric had absorbed.
“He’ll be fine…” she muttered to him and he smiled to her nodding.
“Shit!” Tony exclaimed and Leslie scowled at him. “Steve calls for help:
there’s a knot of Leaguers still fighting and they are in a nuclear reactor at
Siberia threatening to blow it: they have hostages. Thor is occupied with
gathering the villains from Mount Marcy.”
Bruce’s eyes flashed and Clark jerked.
“I’m not going anywhere!” he said. “I’m not leaving Bruce again!”
Leslie was very happy that she didn’t bring paramedics with her.
“Me neither” Tony agreed. “They can cope.”
Bruce looked at Alfred and the butler patted his hand.
“We can’t risk it” Bruce’s eyes darted from Tony to Clark. “They have hostages
and we know they are fanatics. Avengers we’ll need every help they can get.”
Selina crossed her arms and looked at Tony and Clark.
“And I’ll be with him all the time” she lolled her head. “Believe me: they
don’t want to mess with me.”
But both Superman and Ironman had their arms crossed and looked at him gloom
aware of what Bruce was asking - ordering - and declaring their common denial.
“C’me on, guys, you can’t be serious! There are people in danger and you want
to stay with the ‘Damsel in Distress’?” Bruce’s bloodshot eyes sparkled with
energy glaring at them.
“We’ve got officers guarding the clinic in and out and snipers scattered to the
area.”
They turned startled to see Jim Gordon approaching leaning on his crutch. Only
Selina had hidden having sensed someone coming.
“If that gives some reassurance…” the Commissioner cocked his eyebrows to the
heroes and Bruce sank to the gurney.
“Of course it does, Commissioner” Bruce affirmed. “Thank you” and looked at
them suggestively. “Off you go!”
Clark locked his eyes with Bruce’s and the younger man grinned.
“Little guy, make sure you’ll rest” Tony touched Ironman’s fingers to his
shoulder.
“I will, Tony” he nodded and watched Ironman taking off still looking at Bruce.
Superman sighed; he should go too… but he didn’t want to: for the first time in
his life, being the protector of humanity felt like a burden: he rather being
only Bruce’s protector. However, Bruce’s expression became stern and the Man of
Steel raised his fist in the air ready to go. The younger man smiled to him and
Clark drew a deep breath leaving.
Leslie took the gurney’s handles and began pushing.
“We spent a lot of time with these, young man, and you need to be examined.”
Bruce sighed and closed his eyes lolling his head on the mattress. Alfred
smiled and patted his hand.
“You’re a very brave young man, Mr. Wayne” Jim said looking Bruce in the eyes
as the big lift descended to the clinic’s main building.
Selina cast a sideways glance to her friend from her hideout and Bruce
acknowledged her and smiled shyly to Jim.
“I’m still trembling, Commissioner, and I’m sure I’ll need many sedatives to
manage a good sleep. But…I know that some things come first. Besides I’m
heavily guarded by you and I have bodyguards and Alfred and Leslie so I have
nothing to fear.”
Jim patted Bruce’s shoulder.
“A brilliant young man…”
Bruce blushed but suddenly frowned – he wanted to ask that from the moment Jim
appeared.
“By the way, not that I’m complaining…but why all these security measures?”
Jim looked at him and pushed his glasses on his nose, gulping uncomfortable.
“Joker is free…”
Bruce’s eyes widened in fear, as the doors of the lift opened but inside, his
mind was racing.
Thankfully, the clinic’s foyer had its normal activity without reporters even
outside the building. As a nurse came to help Leslie with leading the gurney to
the MRI room Alfred following closely, Jim stayed behind limbing out of the
clinic to his officers.
“Are you sure I should be put through radiation so soon?” Bruce asked Leslie
and she glowered at his effort to avoid medical examination. “There’s a limit
to the quantity of exams’ radiation someone should get in a given time…” he
kept his head constantly raised in agitation as they proceeded on the
dreadfully familiar corridor.
“And there’s a limit on the abuse someone can put his body through…” Leslie
cocked her eyebrows sternly and pressed gently her stubborn patient flat on the
gurney.
Bruce sighed and closed his eyes causing the amuzed smile of the nurse.
When they came out of the MRI room Bruce felt relieved and incredibly tired –
the clinic used a type of MRI that didn’t cause problems with bullets in the
patient’s body yet Bruce came out of it agitated.
But his upset evaporated as a young nurse approached the gurney with an
impressively sensual gait. She winked at Bruce.
“Does my patient need anything?” she said slickly.
Bruce locked eyes with her and grinned.
“Only you…”
Leslie rolled her eyes.
“Whelps! You’d be a very effective nurse…” she mumbled to the new nurse and
waved to the other nurse to leave as Alfred came to meet them.
“Nice outfit, Miss Kyle” the butler said coyly and arched an eyebrow “a change
of career?”
Selina pouted.
“Nah…Though the costume could be useful…”
Bruce widened his eyes.
“The cat outfit doesn’t suffice you anymore?”
Selina gave a crooked smile and winked.
“Of course it does but in some other fields some…variety is a good thing…”
Bruce flashed realizing the meaning and immediately began laughing carelessly
elevating Alfred’s and Leslie’s mood.
Selina patted his shoulder mock patronizingly.
“You have a lot to learn, kiddo!”
“Time for a nice sleep, Bruce” Leslie leaned above him pushing slowly the
gurney.
Bruce looked at her and then at Alfred’s elated but still drained face.
“Mmm… I think I’ll appreciate that…” he nodded letting his eyelids cover his
bloodshot orbs.
Alfred’s composed and even sometimes scornful face flooded with tenderness;
suddenly, the sling felt suffocating because it thwarted him to tend his young
master as he wanted. Leslie smiled reading his expression.
“It seems, Mike, that Superman’s heart of steel melted for our gorgeous Prince”
 Vicky Vale’s triumphant voice bursted from the flat TV at the nurse’s station.
Everyone turned towards the station where already people had gathered curious
to see. Bruce snapped his eyes open and stretched his neck; it was
preposterous. Even Lois who was sitting at the waiting room rushed there
outraged.
“That filthy slut!” she spat but nobody noticed because they were absorbed in
what GCN was broadcasting.
Lois remembered that Vale was at her hotel’s foyer chatting with the manager;
probably, the scum saw her leaving hastily, suspected and followed her. Damn!
She acted like an amateur and now Superman and Bruce were exposed.
Bruce saw himself wrapped in Superman’s red cape being held tightly in his arms
in bridal style, his head nestled in the hero’s chest as the Man of Steel
landed on the clinic’s rooftop; Clark’s hesitation to let go of Bruce was so
evident as the love in his eyes when looking at him that Bruce flinched.
“There’s no information about Bruce Wayne’s captivity or his medical condition
but the sure thing is that we have a cute super love story here: the love of
the century…”she continued as the same scenes replayed - obviously, she heard
Ironman coming and was afraid of being caught so left the scene.
Leslie pushed annoyed the gurney.
“C’me on, Bruce; there’s no reason to listen more bullshit…”
But suddenly the high definition image of Vale reporting was replaced by shaky
image from an obviously amateur camera. Bruce’s eyes widened seeing two huge
red lips capturing the entire screen that opened to slowly reveal the familiar
white painted face with the Cheshire smile formed by two grotesquely sewed
scars; ending up showing the jester’s entire body, his arms opened wide.
“That, my beeeeLOved audience, is caaled director magic! Diiiid you miss me? I
knoooow you did!”
People around the station gasped and Leslie bit her lip and pushed the gurney.
“No!” Bruce told her and his eyes narrowed angrily.
Joker scratched his greasy, green curls puzzled.
“Whaaaat was that bimbo showing? Nooooow I’m hurt.... reaaaally hurt” he
slapped his heart dramatically.
A stupid laughter echoed from somewhere inside the vast warehouse and Joker
rolled his eyes and with a rapid movement he conjured a gun and shot at the
laughing man who screamed and then a bang indicated that he fell from a great
height.
But what made Bruce’s aching spine shiver was the screams that accompanied the
goon’s: children.
Joker lolled his head both sides, fixed his hair and turned towards the goon’s
body.
“It waaasn’t a joke, you IDIOT!” he inhaled deeply and turned to the camera.
“Weeeeell, my deeepest apologies for that interruption buuut live programs have
their…mmm…unexpected happenings… AND figuring out that youur lawfully wedded
wife cheats you with a super powered jerk iiis..! I’m sure you know the
feeling…”
He turned his eyes upwards in a dramatic way.
“Sooooo myyyy preparations are perfectly suit now… Hmm… As you can see…”
He gave a sharp smack at the cameraman’s nape and the camera abruptly turned
upwards showing a big square metallic cage on the upper level of the building
where sixty children of various ages were crammed, the older kids cuddling the
younger and more scared to console them.
Bruce recognized among them Billy, the youth who had gifted him the painting
with his parents; he knew most of them. They were children from the Haven.
“As you can see I managed to gather the best guest stars out there to surround
my personal drama” he pretended to take a tear from the corner of his eye and
throw it away. “Weeeell, I want myyy privacy to shed the tears of the treason
soooo I’m wrapping up.  You know how this goes…” he rolled his palm in the air.
“The boys and girls of the Wayne’s Haven will go a travel without return in the
sky exactly in two hours unless Batman brings my naughty wife at the Chicky’s
factory in the ooooold industrial area… I’ve got to teach Brucey some things
about family law…”
He made to turn and leave but stopped abruptly and looked again at the camera.
“Ohhhh! Aaand of course no police or screw the deadline and the children go
KAAAABOOOM!!!” he shook his head and twisted his lips regretfully. “ I was
gonna send you kisses but I’m too pissed right now!”
Leslie assisted by Selina finally took the stretcher away and in the room they
prepared for Bruce. Alfred closed immediately the door and the two women placed
Bruce on the bed but he was upset unwilling to stay down only his paralysis
keeping him flat.
Leslie already readied an injection and her eyes were narrowed and strict when
she turned to him. Meanwhile, Alfred sat beside him and took his hand to calm
him down.
“You need to sleep” Leslie told him as if nothing had happened and Bruce’s head
jerked angrily.
“No way! I can’t sleep now…” his eyes darted to Alfred and Selina for support
but they were just swallowing hard. “What are we saying now?!”
“Master Bruce…”
Selina crossed her arms and looked sympathetically but still firmly at him
pressing her lips.
“Bruce, you can’t do anything” her voice was stern but pleading too “you have
to let police handle it.”
Bruce closed his eyes and puffed.
“You heard him! If he sees any cop will kill the kids! He wants Batman!”
“And Bruce Wayne” Leslie said “which either way is impossible so the only thing
you can do is forget it and sleep.”
Bruce’s face was sweaty and tense, his eyes in a staring battle with Leslie.
“And then what?! Taking sedatives for the rest of my life to forget what I
did?”
Alfred touched his young master’s forehead and brushed his messy hair.
“Master Bruce, please, you can’t do anything; you’re exhausted, injured…”
“Two bullets are inside your spine paralyzing you from the neck and down!”
Leslie snapped, her eyes sparkling.
Selina was watching gloom, her eyes never leaving Bruce.
“Master Bruce, you have to let the officers manage alone; Master Anthony and
Master Kent will return and help. Please, you need some sleep…”
“I need to help those children: they are all kids from the Haven! We don’t have
the luxury of waiting Clark and Tony and Joker will be infuriated if Batman
doesn’t go to him. Selina knows that I can make my body fight despite the
bullets and if you, Leslie, just remove the bullet from my nape it would be
easier” his eyes widened in emphasis.
Leslie shook her head.
“Superman told me that they messed with your head and now I see they did a
helluva job!” she raised her voice without even realizing: Bruce’s stubborness
enraged her because she was scared for him and was determined to stab her nails
to not let happen what he was proposing. “I’m not a neurosergeon and your
wounds are too complex: it’s not only the bullets, it’s your lower spine - I
can’t do it!”
Bruce closed his eyes and lolled his head on the pillow.
“Then I’ll do it without the bullet being removed!”
“Master Bruce, you can’t! It’s suicide! Please, stop being stubborn!”
“Victoria have taken Tony’s jet to Metropolis and Dr. Thomas Elliot who is an
acclaimed neurosurgeon is coming to operate you” Leslie huffed.
“A neurosurgeon… Like my father…” Bruce muttered distracted for a second and
Leslie nodded.
“We have just to wait! He’ll operate you and then we’ll sketch a therapy plan…”
she softened her voice.
Bruce looked her in the eyes.
“Leslie, it would be much easier if you just remove the bullet from my nape…”
but she shook her head in denial.
“I won’t help you commit suicide.”
“Leslie! There are sixty kids a horrid death hanging over their heads; you know
each of them - you had the medical care of them” the doctor closed her eyes.
“They are scared and their hearts are kicking panicked as we’re talking about
my comfort! They tremble in terror knowing that their lives are ending because
of one man whom you insist on pampering! So the true question you ought to put
to your conscience is:  does one life worth the lives of so many innocent, poor
kids?” his eyes were intense, upset and pleading.
Leslie opened her bulged eyes and Alfred frowned. She jerked her hand and
slapped Bruce in the face sending his head on the opposite side of the pillow.
Bruce bit his lip leaving his head there and Leslie’s blank eyes stared at him
– her chest heaving.
And suddenly the doctor stormed and hugged him tightly raising his half body
and kissing desperately his hit cheek. She cupped his face with both her hands
and her eyes were tearful when locked with his.
“I’m sorry, son, I’m sorry… Don’t ask me to put in the scale your life and
theirs…”
Bruce’s eyes were filled with love.
“I hate what you’re put through, Leslie…” he licked his lips nervously seeing
her wiping her tears, “But this is reality… And… and I’ll make it, Leslie” he
pressed his lips and looked at Alfred’s also wet eyes. “Selina knows that I can
manage: nobody has to be hurt. And if this bullet is removed my odds will be
even better.”
Selina determined but expressionless like a statue made a step forward.
“I’ll be with him.”
Bruce shook his head.
“No, Selina, you’re tired…”
Selina glared at him and her eyes were slits.
“Do you want a punch this time? I don’t have two bullets in my body and I
wasn’t tortured for days!”
Bruce didn’t press the matter; he looked at Leslie who still sat on the bed.
“Will you remove the bullet?”
Leslie turned her gaze to Alfred who was frozen and Bruce sighed; he didn’t
want to cause pain to him.
“Alfred, you understand, right?” he asked for his approval and forgiveness and
the kind man locked his eyes with Bruce’s. “You know, that this is the only
way: you love these children. And we can get them safely back…”
Alfred swallowed hard; he always was bringing cookies to the orphanage’s
children and later at the Haven. These children were the only comfort for his
tormented existence during Bruce’s long captivity – when he knew what his boy
suffered. And he was aware that Bruce would never overcome it if anything
happened to these kids. But still his heart ached on the thought of his heavily
injured master going to confront Joker. This was madness! This was out of any
reasoning! He was just given back his kid; Bruce couldn’t be taken away from
him again!
Bruce’s eyes searched desperately Alfred’s eyes.
“I have your promise that you will be back tonight?” the kind man asked
hoarsely.
Bruce pressed his lips sensing his second father’s agony that accompanied his
consent.
“There’s nothing I want more, Alfred” he smiled. “I’m sorry for all the agony
and pain I put you through – I’m truly sorry but if I don’t go, Joker will kill
the kids and who knows what else after…” Alfred gave a nod but his eyes were
sad. “I swear when I come back I’m gonna surrender myself to your care without
any objection” he grinned. “Does this suffice you?”
Alfred caressed Bruce’s cheek while Leslie rolled her eyes.
“As if!” she sighed and Alfred raised his eyes to her.
“I’ll help you remove the bullet” he said determined and pulled off the sling:
his arm wasn’t healed yet but his use would be auxiliary.
Leslie uncrossed her arms and rushed out to bring the stuff for the operation
she dreaded.
Selina approached the bed and held her friend’s shoulder; Bruce turned his eyes
to her smiling.
“Thank you…” he whispered.
Selina tilted her head; her eyes hadn’t their usual playfulness.
“I’ll never abandon you, kiddo: you know that.”
Bruce pressed his lips.
“And I’m grateful…”
“Master Bruce, remember what you promised me” Alfred captured the youth’s eyes
and twitched an eyebrow “I’ll have cinnamon biscuits waiting both of you.”
Bruce chuckled.
“You have no idea how I missed them…”
Alfred jerked at his feet embarrassed.
“Of course! Oh, my! How foolish of me, sir! You must be starving… Forgive me!”
And startling them, he run outside to return in ten minutes with a tray with
meal for two. He laid the tray on the nightstand and gestured to Selina to sit
down and start eating.
“The clinic’s cooking staff is very good” he settled the bed's back in half
erect position, touched his young master’s back to the pillow and stuck a towel
in Bruce’s gown’s neck before beginning to feed him carefully. “I had the
chance to test their food all these days: it’s not home made but as close as it
gets” he brought the fork with the roast beef to Bruce’s mouth and the youth
laughed.
“I feel like a baby…” and mouthed the bite.
“Yes…” Alfred mumbled remembering the rare times Martha let him feed her
precious baby.
Leslie returned bringing a trolley with medical supplies and stared at the
scene; Bruce widened his eyes.
“Don’t tell me I shouldn’t eat before the operation… We won’t use anaesthesia –
I need my mind clear of painkillers and sedatives.”
She nodded.
“Eat your food, Bruce” a sigh left her “you’ll need your strength and you too,
young lady” she turned to Selina patting her shoulder. “I’ll give you the
restorative – strengthening drug we test along with Lucius; the results are
impressive in strengthening tired organisms” she lolled her head and twisted
her lips “of course, your condition surpasses everything we faced till now
but…I hope it’ll be enough for your suicide mission. And you should take it
too, Selina: you’re as much tired.”
“I appreciate everything you do, Leslie” Bruce said between swallowing the
latest forkful and mouthing the new.
Leslie grunted and Bruce hastily ended his food and milk eager for the
operation.
Selina helped Alfred strip Bruce’s torso exchanging horrified looks for the
state of his back that Leslie already knew; her stare frozen while
straightening her medical mask over her mouth and proceeding to ready the
tools. She knew things about Bruce that Alfred didn’t know and Leslie was happy
that didn’t have to tell him.
“After Selina and I leave the clinic using the caves under the building, you
should inform Jim that you’d move me to the Manor to protect me from Joker”
Bruce explained to them while Leslie cut carefully his flesh on the nape. “Jim
will offer to help and set some guard around the Manor: Alfred, you must
reassure him that my security will do the job discreetly without causing
Joker’s attention if his spies watch police’s movements” Alfred wearing the
same mask and goggles as Leslie used a gauze to absorb the blood from the cut
as his friend sank the pinchers in the spot; her goggles getting live image
from the wound’s inside from the nanocameras in the pinchers.
Selina rolled her eyes and admired her friend’s ability to speak for these
things casually when Leslie exscavated his nape.
“Eliminating the possibility of a sudden attack at the Manor – which after all
has the most security there is – and leaving police free to focus on Joker and
any possible distraction he might have planned.”
“Rest assured, Master Bruce” Alfred cocked an eyebrow as Leslie’s pinchers
moved carefully and graciously between the little bones and the nerves. “My
serve at the royal diplomatic corps have left me with many useful skills.”
Bruce chuckled.
“You’re an unexplored treasure, Alfred.”
“I’m obliged, Master Bruce. Always happy to serve you with my unexplored
skills” he drew an inaudible breath as Leslie caught the odd bullet.
 
Bruce opened the hatch that was hidden under a big square that gave the same
impression with the tiles on the floor in Leslie’s room.
Selina already dressed in Catwoman’s suit was constantly watching him with
agony that struggled to keep hidden but ready to catch him if he showed even
the slightest sign of fainting. But after the bullet’s removal Bruce felt much
better; his mind finally getting free access to his weak body transmitting the
power of his will as Ra’s and Ubu had taught him.
Furthermore Lucius’ experimental drug Leslie gave him created a pleasant wave
of revival and renewed energy in him and Bruce was elated for another reason:
the Water of Immortality was working even in subtler ways. Of course he knew
that without proper treatment and rest the drug’s effect wouldn’t last for long
so he wanted to end the job as soon as possible.
They were crossing the system of caves to Bruce’s first cave of operations and
he enjoyed the special air and coolness of his favorite caves especially when
the only eyes he felt on him were of his bats and his protector. The sense of
threat from Bagdana’s stalking had vanished and Bruce was relieved though a
bitter feeling lingered in his guts.
The demon attacked and would have killed his friends and inprisoned him - and
that made him angry - yet he felt sorry for the lovesick demon who had lost his
mate and desperately searched throughout the generations for her, his pain and
need vibrating even from his wrath and malice.
Bruce knew that stabbing him with the Knife of Justice was the only way to save
all of them and perhaps the world from Bagdana yet along with relief he felt
slight remorse - which was stupid because the demon wanted to enslave him.
However he still wished that the demon in his Tartarus prison would find
something to soothe him.
His legs trembled a bit because he lost his focus and Selina rushed and caught
him from the waist. He looked at her and pressed his lips.
“I’m fine just lost my concentration.”
Selina stared at him.
“Bruce, it’s madness… How much you think you’ll last?”
He sighed.
“Till Joker is under custody and the kids safe” his friend rolled her eyes. “We
have to act fast.”
Selina nodded and Bruce patted her hands before continuing unassisted.
Upon arriving at the cave Bruce used the laptop there to call the Tumbler to
meet them in an alley and began putting on his armor.
“I’m sure he has wired the cage with the kids and has the detonator inside his
desk-jacket.”
Selina who watched with her hands clenching her waist frowned.
“Desk - jacket?”
“His official jacket is a portable center of operations” he replied. “You can’t
imagine what he carries in his pockets: knives, blades, grenades, detonators,
handcuffs, maps…”
Selina lolled her head.
“I remember in Dolcetto: you wore his jacket and we managed to defuse the
explosives…” she said.
Bruce nodded.
“Rachel had put the jacket on me to protect me from the cold” he wore the cowl
and immediately felt at home as if his captivity hadn’t intervened and along
all these horrible things that kept locked and forgotten at the deepest ends of
his brain in the way he had perfected all these years. “Actually, the fact he
carries so much metal with him gives me an idea... “
Selina beamed and followed him to the closest grate leading to the alley where
the Tumbler was to arrive at any minute.
“How are you feeling?” Selina asked once more.
It was so nice seeing Batman with his real eyes since he hadn’t activated his
lenses yet.
“Don’t worry about me, Selina; I’m Batman now. Just focus on the job; we’ll end
this fast and return to Leslie and Alfred.”
The humming sound of Tumbler’s stealth movement notified Bruce even before the
monstrous vehicle entered the alley. Its hatches opened as soon as its sensors
found Batman and Selina jumped inside following Bruce.
“Joker has certainly set distractions in the surrounding area and booby traps
in the factory.”
Selina looked at him.
“Thankfully, the area isn’t inhabited so no civilian will be in danger” she
huffed.
Gotham’s old industrial area was as big as the modern industrial area and
loomed as a ghost city made of metal, dirt, rust and wastes, common and toxic.
This area was so polluted and dangerous with the half derelict buildings that
even junkies and gangs didn’t approach anymore.
 
Jim was listening to Alfred and Leslie explaining to him that Bruce would be
safer if transferred to the Manor protected from his security men and the
estate’s safety measures. Furthermore, it was Bruce’s wish to leave so his
presence there wouldn’t endanger the patients.
Jim pressed his lips and frowned tilting his head: he had already given orders
to his officers to be in high alert all over the city since Joker might have
set nasty surprises for them. Also, he ordered a helicopter to hover over the
area near the industrial area but not approach. He definitely would need every
available man in the Chicky’s factory but still he didn’t want to let Bruce
Wayne unprotected though their suggestion was reasonable and he couldn’t forbid
them if they insisted.
He darted his eyes toward Harvey and the DA’s arched eyebrows told him exactly
that: Harvey could estate a warrant but he wasn’t sure if their plan was better
than Bruce’s suggestion.
“I’ll grant you a team to accompany the transfer and stay guards at the Manor”
Jim said finally.
Alfred shook his head.
“Pardon me, Commissioner, but Master Bruce believes that police accompanying
him would draw too much attention and will make his protection more difficult.
Master Wayne has his bodyguards and he doesn’t want valuable police officers
absorbed in him while the children are in grave danger – Master Bruce is
distraught: he knows every child Joker holds…”
Harvey sighed; he had just informed Rachel and his father that Bruce was safely
back and he didn’t want anything go wrong.
“I understand Bruce’s feelings” he said “we’re doing our best.”
Jim shook his head and began saying something but the vibration of his cell
phone alerted him for a new message.
“I’m at the industrial area – be ready to surge the place on my signal but
don’t approach sooner. B.”
Alfred and Leslie figured from who the message was and Jim looked first at
Harvey, his eyes conveying everything. He nodded at Bruce’s family because
Batman would occupy Joker till Bruce reached his home safe.
 
As the Tumbler came closer, the tall chimneys extinct more than half a century
ago created a deep melancholy to Bruce. The area seemed so sad in its
abandonment from people and it was more depressing when imagining the deserted
loitered streets filled with the ghosts of workers. Bruce made a mental note to
set in motion a project of reviving the area.
Chicky’s huge factory was at the east end of the area, more factories and
warehouses to the front. He gave the vocal order to have a detailed diagram of
the area, scanning the buildings for human presence and explosives, Selina
leaning interested. To the amazement of both the buildings weren’t trapped with
explosives.
“There are no people to harm so there’s no reason to blow the buildings…”
Selina said and Bruce nodded.
“He wants to focus on our confrontation: the factory is made a fortress” he
pointed at the zoomed diagram. “Joker’s armed goons guard every entrance and”
he pointed at the red beeping spots “there are several explosive devices.”
Selina showed at the center of the building on the upper level a square
formation with many people inside.
“The kids… with five thugs having their guns turned on them” her index finger
travelled to their heat figures.
“And the bars of the cage are drenched in nitroglycerin” he pointed at the
different color in the heat projection.
Bruce stopped the car outside the industrial area to not risk being detected.
He didn’t intend on keeping his presence secret since Joker asked for him but
he wanted to choose the time.
He jumped outside and Selina followed, both of them mixing immediately with the
shadows of the narrow alleys between the buildings till they could see the
factory.
Bruce activated the lenses.
“They guard every entrance except the old trap door on the roof: there are
goons on the roof but not at the right section behind the big chimney because
this door wasn’t in the blueprint of the building: they probably built it later
and didn’t register it.”
Selina nodded.
“I’ll enter from there.”
Bruce looked at her and set his jaw.
“Be careful because we don’t know the passage’s state. Don’t engage in battle
with them till the children are safe. I don’t want him know about you. I will
enter from the front: he expects me.”
Selina touched his upper arm concerned.
“Don’t exhaust yourself…”
“I won’t; I’ll use the sedative batarangs to knock them out. I’ll distract
Joker while you will approach the main premises where he and the cage are -
I’ll try to talk him into sending the kids away so you free them and lead them
outside. I have already texted Jim and they will be waiting at a distance: they
will come as soon as I give them the OK.”
He felt a slight dizziness and although he didn’t show anything Selina
tightened her grip on his upper arms. Bruce nodded.
“I’m fine” he opened a compartment of his belt and gave her a flask.
“What’s that?”
“Freezes the nitroglycerin: empty it on the roof of the cage and it will spread
instantly disabling the explosive. Even if Joker presses the trigger nothing
will happen.”
She took the flask and stashed it in her suit.
“What about the other explosives?”
“Joker likes simple explosives; I’ll defuse them before showing myself. Be
careful, Selina” he rubbed her upper arms before she turned to leave.
Selina’s eyes were wild and loving at the same time.
“Keep reminding that to yourself, sweetie - you gave a promise…” she cocked an
eyebrow suggestively.
Bruce pressed his lips thinking of Alfred’s sorrowful but brave eyes, Leslie’s
desperate slap and Tony’s and Clark’s reluctance to leave him.
“I know, dear…”
Selina turned to leave but stopped abruptly, turned and kissed Batman on the
visible part of his cheek.
“I’ll hold you on your promise” she shook her index finger warningly and left
though she didn’t want.
As soon as Selina was out of his sight, Bruce closed his eyes behind the lenses
and meditated in the way Ubu had taught him using diaphragmatic breathing. He
was feeling fairly good in comparison with his body’s real condition but on the
other hand he was painfully aware of some pangs all over his body and of the
fact that his mental energy could take advantage of Lucius’ medicine for a
limited time.
He brought Clark in his mind and Superman felt like a sun of power drenching
him with his rays and real warmth showered him along with a needy nostalgia for
him. At least, he knew that Tony would be safe fighting alongside Clark.
He clenched his teeth which trembled a bit from an inner tremor, fisted his
hands letting his mind’s will flow in every cell of his battered body and
ordered his legs to move.
He used as always the darkness to his advantage to reach the right entrance
where two goons outside and three inside guarded holding rifles. The first
explosive device was wiring the doorstep but thankfully he had met it again and
he had the software to block it. He pressed his wrist and the electromagnetic
waves from the Tumbler hit the device driving it useless without the goons
noticing anything.
Bruce thought that Joker didn’t want to kill him with his bombs because the
jester knew that Batman was going to scan the place for such booby traps and
was an expert in defusing that kind of devices - he had done it again at the
Opera House. The madman wanted him inside.
Of course, Bruce was going to defuse all of them since once cornered, Joker
wouldn’t hesitate to blow up the place and the people inside. And Bruce didn’t
want any casualties; the cops at some stage would flood the area and them and
Selina with the kids would be in danger since the explosive material was
powerful enough and the buildings’ condition could lead to a domino effect.
He threw his sedative batarangs finding the necks of the two thugs knocking
them out immediately. Their partners from inside didn’t hear a thing and didn’t
manage to do anything before sinking to the ground when Batman after entering
from the broken window – having disabled the laughing gas bomb there - threw
his batarangs at them. Batman handcuffed all of them and dragged them to the
alley. The process was testing but he needed this entrance clear in case of a
desperate escape.
Once inside the building he reached each one of the explosive devices defusing
them either cutting the cables or programming the Tumbler to send the right
waves. Then he used his batarangs to knock out the rest of the thugs and walked
towards the main sector of the factory where Joker was waiting; the cage with
the kids on the second level.
“Sel, where are you?” he whispered in his com.
“I’m in, heading to the main sector.”
“Thugs and bombs out - I’m heading there too - wait for the right moment.”
“OK.”
He could see now Joker dressed in his favorite purple suit with his purple
leather gloves and green vest. He looked to the ceiling singing aloud. And
Bruce smirked thinking the iron with which the roof was dressed; all the
buildings in the area were rich in lead too which explained why Superman
couldn’t locate Joker while the rust and the decaying assortment of metals and
toxics created a shield which blocked Tony’s means of scanning.
Joker looked at his wristwatch making the tick-tack noise; the set time was a
breath away.
“Wheeeere aaaare youuuuu, ho-ney? The clock is ticking…”
Bruce clenched his jaw and walked confidently towards Joker hearing the sobbing
of the younger children and the encouraging words of the older who became
thrilled seeing Batman. Bruce’s heart clenched for the poor kids, some of them
mentally handicapped – he wanted to break some Joker bones albeit his
statements that wouldn’t exert himself. He tightened his fists.
Joker jumped in the air whooping on the sight of Batman while his henchmen
armed their guns – of course, they didn’t know that Bruce had already disabled
their guns with transparent electromagnetic beams.
“Whoaaaaa! Batsy-dar –ling! I knew you won’t disappoint though” he lowered his
voice secretive “our latest date courtesy of LexiLu…hmm…it wasn’t bad buuuuut
there waaaas something A-miss.” He frowned.
Someone of his friends dressed as Batman to stop Joker who apparently attacked
Luthor after his kidnapping. His friends wanted to erase any suspicions
Batman’s absence would raise. Bruce made the mental note to thank them.
“Don’t misunderstand me” he waved his hand in the air “I’m not judging – I’m a
maaaaaan of under-standing” he pouted “may-be you were expecting your pe-riod”
he tittered. “That would deeeeefinitely ex-plain the swelling of your body.”
Definitely Clark, Bruce thought.
“Let the children go, Joker” he growled unfazed and indifferent to his
babbling.
Joker pouted his lips.
“Always in business matter…Whewww!” he sighed. “Buuuut” he stretched his index
finger “I aaaaasked both of you: the bat and the kitten. Where’s myyyy kitten?
Meow?” he shook his head and let it loll in his shoulder rolling his eyes
“Though we can’t use possessive pronouns for our wives, huh? You never know
whose really YOUR wife is… Looook at me: I made all these to get intimate with
my lawfully wedded wife” he winked “we never managed to…” he pouted “knew each
other’s ‘inner world’ – anyway, I made sooooo many sacrifices for this marriage
aaaaand what I find?!” he slapped his thighs. “That Super – Goofy diddles
myyyyyy kitten! I guess you’ve heaaard the newwws? Ugh! I became Gotham’s butt
– with ‘u’ because Gotham’s bat with ‘a’ is you.”
Bruce’s tormented head screamed with all these endless babbling. He glared at
Joker.
“Wayne isn’t your…wife!”
Joker closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Another marriage wrecker!” he licked his lips agitated. “Don’t take me for the
po – ssessive type: I wouldn’t say noooo to a nice, pure homemade threesome
with you buuuuut thaaat alien freaaaaks me out!” he howled.
“As if you need help for that…” Batman snapped struggling to keep his stoicism
when Joker’s rant worsened the pangs throughout his body.
Joker’s eyes widened and suddenly he began hopping and tittering.
“Ugh-ugh-ugh! Hu-mor!” he shook his finger mimicking DeNiro at ‘Analyze This’.
“I knew you haaaad it in youuuu, baaaabe!”
Batman set his jaw hardly restraining himself from punching the jester.
“Let the children go…” he growled stressing each word resolutely.
Joker stopped abruptly laughing and his flashing eyes stabbed Batman.
“I aaaasked you to bring Bruuuucey!” he shouted and the children who till then
were watching silently whined.
Batman bared his teeth.
“No way!” he uttered icy.
Joker’s scars stretched to a gruesome, wittly smirk.
“Because it’s tooooooo difficult the two of you to be in the same place the
same time, huh?” he asked slyly launching the suspicion that had worked in his
mind for hours.
Bruce frowned but stayed completely unfazed. Obviously, Joker wasn’t fooled by
Clark’s performance and he suspected - Joker was a genius mastermind and came
too close to him, too many times…
“There was no chance I’d bring a civilian to you…” he snapped.
Joker rolled his eyes.
“Un- less you’ve got him always with you, huh?” he stared at him lolling his
head.
“Cut the crap, Joker! What do you want?”
The jester made a whole circle with his head and shrugged both shoulders.
“I wanted a threesome buuuuut I graaaadually realize that the threeeeeesome of
my dreams will stay a dream – it’s praaaactically im-possible” he sighed
dramatically and then narrowed his eyes some hope sparkling. “Of course,
banging Bru-cey will be like banging both of you, right? WOW!” he scratched his
head. “Thiiiis surpasses even me! Myyyy twooo loves in one package! Having sex
with one man aaaand fucking two! Whoa!”
“You’re hallucinating!”
Joker shook his finger rebuting.
“Naaaah! I might be loony buuuuut a reasonable loony… Wait!” he looked at
Batman. “Does this make sense?” Batman shook his head and Joker hopped in the
air. “Oh! Baby! I contra-dict even myself - UHAUHAUHAHAHAHA!”
Bruce didn’t have time for all these.
“Let the children go!”
Joker sobered at once and locked eyes with Batman’s lenses.
“I didn’t develop my reasoning…” his voice was incredibly stable. “The first
time I met Batman I stabbed him in the stomach aaaand during our first time
with Bru-cey, my baby had a scar exactly at his stomach; he told me that
Falcone did it buuuut” he gestured to himself “am I looking like a fool?” he
eyed Batman’s grim look and lolled his head “Don’t answer that… Well, that same
traaagic night as I was ready to perfect our blessed union some marriage
wrecker hit me in the head and took Bru-cey away. Bru-cey said that Batman
saved him buuuuut I know that my dear Rachel did it - Batman couldn’t save Bru-
cey because he was tied on my bed: Bru-cey was tied on my bed not Batman buuuut
in the end, Bat-man was tied there too…” he slapped his forehead. “Ugh! Babies,
you’re going to make me schizophrenic!”
Joker cast a hesitant look at Batman’s glare.
“Not that I neeeeed much help… Anyway - aaaaand then comes that Fury guy in
Bru-cey’s office aaaaand today I learn that he is a super-hero collector aaaand
what a super-hero collector wants in Bru-cey’s office? Huh? Any suggestion?
Nahhhhh! Aaaand I also learn that a group of terrorists that created the
organization where Fury works kidnaps myyyyy baby: what a group of terrorists
wants with a poor, hurt babyyy? Aaaand I also learn that an insider revealed
the terrorist’s bases; to whom? Guess… Stark, my baaaaby’s best friend and
Superman, my baby’s lover.”
He narrowed his eyes and pretended to hold a pipe like Sherlock Holmes.
“Me thinks… Stane, Luthor and Morticia plotted and plotted and plotted to
snatch a traumatized baaaby?” he frowned. “Me thinks…” he clanged his teeth on
the imagined pipe. “Maybe that traumatized baaaby is not only a traumatized
baaaaby buuuut a traumatized insider aaaand these loonies wanted to take him
baaack to not betray their secrets? Mmmm? AND! While Bru-cey was off and I
tried to doooo with Luthor my duty as husband…” he stopped abruptly and licked
his lips “nooooope: that sounded completely wrong… Anyway… Batman ran to the
save as it’s his duty as a… whatever. Only that Batman feeeeelt… ummm… off as
if someone tried desperately to cover the void of the true Batman… All in all…”
Batman knew that those in the second level didn’t listen to Joker’s babbling
but he had had enough.
“Why should I care for the spy movie you watched last night? Now, let the
children go!”
Joker tilted his head on the side and eyed him with fascinated eyes.
“Pull off your cowl…” he demanded calmly.
Batman found the opportunity he was asking for.
“First let the children go!”
Joker grunted.
“I asked to pull the cowl off nooooot your briefy - briefs!” he cackled. “Youuu
expect me to let go of my leeeverage?”
Bruce cocked an eyebrow and though the cowl covered his face it was audible to
his tone.
“And you expect me to uncover my face in front of the kids and your thugs?”
Joker let a laughing shriek and rubbed his lips.
“I can’t deny that you’ve goooot a point…” he lowered his tone. “After all, I
waaaant some quality intimate time with you - even without that threesome…”
Bruce rolled his eyes: Joker was going to be tormented all his life from that
eluding threesome. All this time, he was fighting the nausea only the mention
caused him bringing memories of what Talia and Bane did to him.
Joker pulled out of his jacket pocket the detonator and showed it to Batman.
“My boys will take the brats out buuuut if youuuuu detour I’m going to help
those kids meet their real nature: HEHE! Becoooome angels!”
Batman glared at him and Joker gestured to his henchmen who began pushing the
cage away till it was out of sight and Bruce brushed discreetly his wrist to
give the signal to Selina for her attack.
Joker jerked his eyebrows suggestively.
“Baaaaaby, taaaaake off your cowl? Reeeeal fast?!” he sang the famous tone
albeit like screeching tires.
“I don’t think so!” he brushed his forearm button turning the iron in the
ceiling over Joker’s head to a magnet which immediately swapped the detonator
off his hand; Joker narrowed his flaming eyes just a second before he was
launched to the ceiling too, dragged from the metal he had inside his jacket.
“Youuuuu CHEATED!” he yelled. “You’re an adulterous, filthy cheater!”
Batman pressed the button in his wrist transmitting the signal to Jim for
storming the industrial area and yanked his head upwards.
“Goons off”Selina said in the intercom. “I’m getting the children out.”
“You’re going to jail!” Batman snarled to Joker and took an explosive batarang
from his belt, hitting the detonator which melted slowly and harmlessly.
Joker clenched his teeth enraged.
“Not SOOOOO easy, babe!” he writhed and slipped out of his jacket landing to
the second level.
Batman grinded his teeth and ran after him; he had hoped that it’d end fast but
on the other hand he was sure that Joker would conjure something. And although
he managed to run he sensed his body protesting. At least, Joker didn’t head
for Selina and the kids which created a nasty feeling in Bruce for the jester’s
backup.
He was approaching Joker but suddenly the jester jumped the entire staircase
landing at the basement to the storage at the far end where the electricity
generator was as barrels with spare fuels and big oxygen bottles.
Joker stormed at the back door leading outside which was unguarded and Bruce
felt relieved to leave that place. But suddenly he frowned seeing a henchman
entering dragging a boy; a knife pressed to the boy’s cheek. Joker stopped
abruptly and took the boy and the knife while the goon pulled a gun and locked
the door.
Batman stopped at his heels: it was Richard Grayson - his guts clenched. Not
that poor boy again!
“AHA! Youuuuu thought I wouldn’t have my reserve?” he sniggered.
“Let the boy go, Joker!” he snapped clenching his fists.
“You have a soooft spot for him, huh? He reminds you of soooome-body?” he
caressed violently the boy’s locks; the boy’s eyes sparkled wild but
emotionless.
“Don’t touch him!”
Joker narrowed his eyes.
“I’m tired of youuuuu aaall the time giving orders! I GIVE THE ORDERS NOW!
Aaaand if you don’t want little pooor Brian’s brother meet him in the heaven,
youuu’ll take off your cowl and the belt and do what I order you!”
But Bruce jumped on Joker grabbing his wrist detaching the knife  from Dick’s
cheek and the boy gave a hard kick to the jester’s calf diving with a backflip
behind the barrels to be shielded from the battle.
Batman and Joker rolled on the floor, the goon unable to find target to shoot
Batman.
“UUUUUUUUU! Baaabe, a sneak preview of our bed time!” Joker shrieked and gave a
hard kick to Batman’s pelvis and Bruce just couldn’t hold his scream: the pain
was excruciating and shattering his entire body. “Ow! I huuuurt you, baaaby?”
he cackled “I can kiss it to mend.”
But Bruce, his eyes dim from tears of pain found an opening and struck Joker’s
jugular to the pressing point knocking him out. Batman tried to find his breath
but he heard the click of the thug’s gun and jumped at him grabbing his hand to
stop him from shooting there, ignitable and highly explosive materials flooding
the place.
The goon struggled and Bruce’s strength quivered but he clenched his teeth and
pressed the right points on his wrist causing instant numbing. However before
the gun fell from his hand his finger tangled with the trigger and raked the
opposite wall with bullets; the old electricity generator emanating sparkles
and fumes.
“Damn!” Batman growled and snapped the goon’s neck knocking him out.
He clenched his fists and though his legs disobeyed him stood up and stormed at
the generator taking out of his belt special foam to stop the fire. But to his
horror some of the bullets had pierced the barrels that contained fuels and who
knows what else, flames already erupting. He rushed there pouring more foam
when the barrel exploded launching him to the floor.
Bruce breathed grateful that the explosion wasn’t strong enough though his
spine didn’t appreciate it even if he managed to land on his trembling knees.
He jolted upright to quench the fire but it had spread to the other barrels.
His eyes suddenly found Dick cuddled between the barrels.
“Get out of there!”
The boy jerked surprised and looked confused around, an explosion to his right
panicking him. Batman rushed to grab the boy but Dick ran towards the inner
building; he made to follow him but remembered Joker and his thug unconscious
between the raging flames and the choking smoke; they surely would die if left
there.
He grunted frustrated and stashed a small grenade to the door’s lock, the
explosion destroying the lock and letting the door hanging. In other days, he
would have grabbed both of them and shoved them outside yet now his strength
was limited and he had to find Dick after. The fire was spreading rapidly with
explosions that ignited the old cables and pipes which ran the entire building.
So he grabbed first the goon who was closer to the door and dropped him to the
alley outside; he did the same with Joker and jumped to the upper level to save
time ignoring his body’s screams.
“The kids are safe out” Selina said to the intercom “police is coming; where
are you? I see smoke and I hear explosions. Get out of there!”
Bruce took a deep breath, the air already bearing the first indications of the
spreading fire.
“Joker and his thug are at the alley on the back; take them to the police. I’m
taking Dick and coming.”
“Damn!” Selina cursed.
Bruce turned his lenses to scan mode and it wasn’t difficult to find the boy.
The first flames licking the walls since the factory was half made of wood -
old wood that was highly inflammable due to the industrial oils -, thick black
smoke filling the place causing shock to Dick who froze up. A beam was
screeching and moaning ready to fall on the balcony and the boy; Batman jumped
and grabbed the boy just before the beam crashed and landed on the ground level
grinding his teeth and pushing the pain in the basement of his brain.
He caressed the boy’s locks.
“I’ve got you - everything is fine” he rasped - the smoke already affecting his
voice and covered the boy’s head and body with his cape rushing to the exit.
His heart raced fighting the pain, the smoke and his agony for the boy but he
thought of his protectors and the beat normalized. He remembered where his
emergency exit was: the window he entered the building. Also, he was relieved
to see in the building’s projection from his forearm that nobody else was
inside.
It took only a couple of minutes for the old building to become an inferno of
fire, thick smoke and explosions: it seemed that the factory after its
abandonment served as the lab for many shady business and many dangerous
materials had remained there added to the oxygen bottles and the old fuels.
“Don’t be afraid, Dick; we’re almost there…” he said calmly to the boy as
running through flames and avoiding falling debris and bottles that launched
like missiles.
He was hearing the burning beams grunting and howling nightmarishly and pushed
his convulsing legs to move forward. He heard the sound and pushed the boy away
just an instant before the upper level fell on him crushing his body to the
floor.
He felt his spine shattering, everything shutting in his body leaving his mind
alone. He felt his heart writhing like a dying fish trying to urge the trapped
body to escape but managing only to madden his constricted breath. It was over,
he knew it; but what mattered was the boy.
Who stood there with shocked still eyes; his hands hanging numb at his sides.
The poor boy was in a state of stupor not thinking to move towards the window.
And the roof was trembling ready to collapse having lost the supporting
pillars.
“Dick, listen to me…” he said with steady voice. “There’s a window straight
ahead, only twenty feet away - police waits outside… Go.”
“I’ll stay with you” the boy mumbled streams of tears cleaning his dirty face.
“Till they save us…”
But Bruce knew that they couldn’t enter the building because the doors were
blocked by debris and even if they tried to clear them, the building would
collapse soon. The only available exit was the window and even if the officers
came they would die trying because they couldn’t lift the mass of debris and
free him. Only Superman could but he was too far away…
 
“Sir” Jarvis’ poized but slightly distressed voice managed to reach Tony’s
helmet.
They had just managed to capture the last remaining Leaguers and secure the
nuclear reactor and the hostages. However the reactor’s construction for
blocking radiation also blocked any long distance communication so Jarvis was
able to contact his master only when Ironman began heading to Gotham along with
Superman at ease for having finished the job and soon would be with their loved
ones.
“Speak, Jarvis.”
Clark turned to him.
“Batman saved the children Joker held hostage at Chicky’s factory in Gotham’s
old industrial area.”
Clark’s eyes widened and Tony gaped.
“Batman?” he asked dumbfounded. “Little guy, this time, I swear I’ll..!”
“Gotham’s police radio transmits that the building is burning and explosions
are heard…”
Superman wasn’t listening anymore speeding fastest than he ever imagined he
could, leaving back Tony who was unable to keep up with him. Bruce donned the
cowl to save children…and he shouldn’t have: his body was already battered. He
hoped against hope that Batman was safely out of the building but his guts were
a knot.
 
“No, Dick, you have to listen and go: I’m Batman, I’ll manage…”
And then in the raging howling of the fire and the distant explosions Bruce
heard but more sensed Selina running there and that made him happy because Dick
would have help but also sad because he had to…say goodbye…
Selina realizing the scene in front of her halted abruptly, a pained gasp
leaving her chest: a mass of debris, a large piece of concrete surely weighing
several hundred of pounds, heavy beams, metallic pipes and bricks had created a
small hill over Bruce’s body and only his head was visible; his sapphire-
emerald eyes uncovered by the ruined lenses found her maintaining their power
and resolution.
But she didn’t; she slumped on her knees and leaned to him with her breath cut.
“Take Dick and go” he said and his voice was steady as if he wasn’t under a
tone of debris.
“Stop giving me that fucking order!” she shouted but sobs choked her voice.
Bruce caressed her with his eyes, her pain piercing his heart.
“I’d never order you, my dear… just asking… the boy… has to get out…”
She cupped his face and kissed his jaw that was bleeding from a deep cut. Bruce
felt her tears.
“I won’t abandon you!” she gritted her teeth but the sobs still escaped – she
knew that if she left now there was no chance seeing him again.
Bruce closed his eyes trying to draw enough air to his preesed down lungs
through the burning hell, aware that the flames were rapidly approaching.
“You never abandoned me, dear… and you won’t abandon me now…”
All the nights he found her waiting for him at the garbage bin in the filthy
alley behind Dolcetto passed in front of his eyes warming and stinging his
heart: Selina’s hugs that wormed his battered, cold body, her words, her
sandwitch that filled his aching from hunger stomach – the hope that
accompanied him throughout his torturous days that he will see her. Bruce knew
that he was going to lose his friend… He clenched his teeth.
“But you have to…get Dick…out…please…Sweetheart…”
Selina closed her eyes and shook her head stubbornly in denial – tears streamed
her face.
“No! No!”
She began frantically taking debris from the huge pile that trapped Bruce; he
knew that it was futile but his friend was grunting and throwing away concrete
and metal bars. Bruce felt tears wetting his eyes; Selina’s pain a burning iron
stabbing his heart pumping more blood to his smashed body and his open wounds.
“There’s no use!” he shouted seeing her gloves teared from the debris. New
explosions shook the building. “Please…save the boy…as we saved…Beth’s baby…
remember?” his eyes locked with hers sharing images of a beggar mother cuddling
tightly her starving baby; their children eyes watching tearful from their
hideout behind the bin.
Selina wiped her eyes and cupped his face.
“I’ll take the boy outside and return with help…Remember: you promised!” he
pressed his lips and nodded grinning reassuringly.
She stood up and walked slowly to the stunned boy, hoisting him in her arms,
her eyes never leaving Bruce’s who watched them distancing fast. Selina turning
her head to look at him as if her eyes could give him more time; even a second
before she was so far that couldn’t see him.
But this time she couldn’t save him…Bruce knew that she wouldn’t manage to
return because the roof would collapse at any moment.
“Please, Bruce, don’t return to that horrible place… I don’t want you beaten
ever again!” the little girl thought that her stubborn voice could hide her
tears. “C’me with me! I’ll hide you!”
But he knew they couldn’t.
“They’ll find us, Sel; they won’t stop till finding me and will hurt you…”
She gritted her teeth angry because she realized it was true.
“I won’t let you!” she screamed with a low voice and dragged him to her warm,
trembling chest, caressing his messy, dirty locks, knowing that he’d leave her…
And Bruce wanted to go with her… always wanted to follow her but he knew that
he couldn’t…
The smoke was choking him along with the blood from his pierced lung; he was
coughing and the blood spurt violently out of his mouth. The heat was around
him and he already felt burnings at parts of his body since even Batman’s
reinforced armor couldn’t take so much pressure and chemical fire. At least it
would be over soon…
His eyes found his bat perched at the corner right opposite staring at him with
her emerald eyes; Bruce smiled tired.
“You should leave now too…” he whispered. “But you can’t die, right?”
He closed his eyes as he heard the roof screaming like a horrible monster. He
only wished he had a couple of minutes with his loved ones…to tell them how
precious they all were; how much he loved them; how desperately he wished to
have spent all his life with them; how sorry he was that he couldn’t keep his
promise to Alfred; to hear Tony’s careless laughter, Leslie’s loving scowl,
Lucius’ caring advice, Selina’s teasings. Clark’s love words that didn’t need
to be spoken: how he wished to see them again! Only once…
He felt the crushing weight leaving his body and he knew his attachment with
the material world ended just before the final blow. Everything darkened and
ceased as the horrifying roar of the collapsing roof was the last lingering
sensation from the world…
 
Selina ran with Dick to the patrol cars encouraged to see officers already
rushing to the building.
But before they even approached she heard the deafening howl of the roof and
the bang of the crash. The world stopped around her and she turned her bulged
eyes to the building which was half demolished: the gargantuan mountain of
burning debris and broken concrete and metal exactly at the spot where Bruce
was buried deep under them.
“No…” she whispered, her dread killing everything inside her and draining her
strength along with her voice.
And then he saw a red and blue figure rising from the debris caring in bridal
style a limp body dressed in black; her eyes flashed with hope and new tears
streamed her sooty face.
 
Clark had managed to smash and heave the debris that were crashing Bruce’s body
and snatch him just when the roof collapsed using his body to protect the
unconscious human. But as he held him floating over the demolished factory the
realization pulverized his insides: Bruce’s body felt odd not only unconscious
but also…limp without any vital energy.
He looked adoringly at Bruce’s closed eyes and took off the cowl easily since
the hardship had destroyed its safety measures; he threw away the cowl to the
burning mass and sped faster than he could towards the only place Bruce could
be saved. He wouldn’t let his Star to humans.
Bruce’s raspiration was so weak that seemed inexistent; as his heartbeat was
painfully different from his usual proud, strong beat. Blood was flowing from
his slightly open lips and his nostrils and Superman knew that he was bleeding
internally; his lungs pierced from broken ribs. Almost every bone in his legs
was broken or cracked and in his spine was only the bullet in the waist. He saw
that the bullet in the nape had recently been removed obviously to permit his
mind control his incapacitated body.
Clark’s body was trembling from pain and agony, his jaw clenched as his fists.
He held Bruce’s body tighter burying it to his broad chest to protect him from
the cruel whipping of the frozen air. Trying to do now what he failed to do…
He was feeling Bruce’s life leaving his body and his eyes melted in tears which
freezed with the polar air as they entered Arctic.
“Hold on, baby…” he whispered and his voice shook.
The aurora borealis’ brilliant colors stabbed his heart: he intended to bring
Bruce here to see it – Clark was sure that his Star would adore it: he had seen
so little of the earth’s magic…
His tearful eyes caressed tenderly Bruce’s battered face which was beautiful,
his burst lips moving so imperceptibly to draw any air they could to his
suffering lungs. He kissed softly those lips sending oxygen to help his
raspiration, staring at the velvet eyelids blanketing his mesmerizing irises.
And then…
The long eyelashes stirred and the eyelids flapped stoping Clark’s heart – he
could see the sapphire-emerald seas reflecting the colors of aurora borealis.
“So beautiful…” Bruce’s voice was hasky, tired but tranquil as his eyes
wandered to the sky.
“Only because it’s reflected in your eyes!” Clark answered encouraged from his
awakening but speeding because Bruce’s condition needed immediate care.
But Bruce turned his eyes to him because it was impossible to move his head.
“Can you stop?”
Clark frowned.
“We need to hurry, Bruce – we’re almost there.”
Bruce let his eyelids cover his orbs for a second trying to gain strength,
gulping a groan and then looked again at Clark.
“I want to see…” he drew a deep breath “aurora…borealis.”
Clark’s breath became pressed and he had to inhale deeply.
“I promise you, Star: we’ll be seeing aurora borealis every night until you get
bored…” he chuckled but a sob constricted his throat.
Bruce sighed and coughed as his own blood choked him.
“I don’t have…every night…”
And that admission from Bruce himself shattered Clark’s insides, suddenly
unable to keep flying.
“Please, Bruce, don’t say that!” he pleaded and Bruce smiled tiredly.
“My body is broken, Clark…” he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw to fight a
wave of pain but immediately looked Clark again and grinned. “Don’t tell me…you
didn’t…scan me…” he winked and some blood trickled from his cut eyebrow.
“Will fix everything…”
Bruce tried to draw some air but this time the cough turned to a bleeding fit
and Clark captured his lips pumping oxygen.
“You…are a god…but…even gods can’t defeat death…”
Clark shook his head.
“I can’t defeat death…but you can! You survived all these years, you prevailed
over your enemies, you…you just defeated a demon!”
But Bruce just closed his eyes and knitted his brows worn out.
“I’m…exhausted…Clark…”
Clark held him tighter and touched his forehead to Bruce’s which was cold as
his entire body.
“I know, baby, I know” he struggled to not burst in tears. “But I’m here now
and…you’ll rest…I won’t let anyone disturb you…but…but…don’t speak about…death”
he chuckled. “Will you?”
Bruce stared sadly in Clark’s eyes right above his.
“Humans die, Clark…”
Clark rubbed gently his nose with Bruce’s.
“But you’re my Star, Bruce…” he sobbed.
Bruce’s eyes darted to the brilliant blue, red, green, golden waves streaming
the sky.
“Stars die too…and we see their glow even years after their death…before they
fizzle out forever…” he coughed and gazed again at Clark’s sorrowful eyes. “I’m
sorry…you…had the misfortune to see the last sparkle of a star
which…died…eighteen years ago…”
Clark glued Bruce’s cold body to his tightly to give him warmth.
“It wasn’t misfortune…it was a blessing…it is a blessing…” he couldn’t
articulate anything more.
“Please, tell Alfred and Tony…” he gulped; the air he had insufficient to utter
everyone’s names “I…wanted…to keep my promise” he chuckled “to eat Alfred’s
biscuits…” a moan escaped tearing Clark’s heart.
But Clark raised his head and swallowed his sobs – he had to give courage to
his Star as Bruce would have done for him.
“No, buddy, you won’t escape so easily…” he chuckled and Bruce smiled. “You
tell them” he shook his head. “Oh! I’ll enjoy Leslie and Alfred berating you…”
Bruce laughed but he paid it with cough that spurt more blood to his jaw. Clark
wiped the blood, trembling.
“I…don’t regret it, Clark…If I hadn’t gone…Joker would have killed the
kids…Don’t cry…You’re so beautiful…and your smile…is like…the sun… Smile again,
my sun…”
Clark squeezed his heart, grinded his teeth and ordered his mind to replay
Bruce eating greedily the donuts he brought him; the morning they spent at
their greenhouse. He had to smile for his Star. And he did it when he saw again
himself taking with a kiss the vanilla cream that covered Bruce’s rosy lips.
“I spent years…without seeing the sun…without his warmth…until you came…”
Clark’s eyes were two unstoppable waterfalls as Bruce’s hand feebly managed to
move and touch Superman’s cheek; half of the glove was torn so Clark could feel
Bruce’s soft fingertips. “You…gave me your infinite love, you taught me how
beautiful love making is – thank you for everything, my love… For giving me
your warmth…”
Clark clenched his jaw.
“You’re not melting…” his voice was hoarse.
Bruce smiled bitterly and closed his eyes which made Superman sped up.
“Please…not so fast…”
His Star pleading with him was unbearable because it made him think the
countless times little Bruce begged his tormentors to stop hurting him; only to
be treated with more cruelty.
“I’m sorry I cause you discomfort, Bruce; but we’re close now…I’ll be able to
save you there…” his heart was drumming in his ribcase.
But Bruce closed his eyes; he was feeling life slipping from his shattered body
and he didn’t want to waste his last moments in blurring images of the man he
loved.
“Please…” and Superman bent slowing down; his Star’s eyes watching fascinated
the celebrating sky. “I never imagined it so beautiful…I always…believed that
I’ll die…strapped on a table or bent in a bench…alone…in cold…in pain…in
shame…in filth…but now all this beauty…your beautiful face…your love warming
me…you made me the greatest gift…”
Clark couldn’t mumble anything; he held tighter Bruce’s unresponding body
feeling the waves of pain reaching Bruce’s brain. Clark nuzzled his Star’s
cheek.
“You can’t leave me, Bruce…you can’t leave me all alone…”
Bruce’s eyes were tearful as they absorbed Clark’s face.
“You’ll be never alone…Oh! You’re so beautiful…” Bruce whispered.
Clark touched his face on Bruce’s: it wasn’t true; it was just a nightmare and
he’d wake up to see his Star sleeping beside him nestled in his body…careless,
happy, without pain…
“Can you kiss me?” his shy Star asked and Clark’s throat burned from the sobs
he stubbornly kept jailed.
“You didn’t have to ask that…” he rasped.
He cupped Bruce’s jaw and locked their lips massaging gently the burst human
flesh, Bruce reciprocating with what Clark sensed was his last drops of
strength; Bruce’s tongue dancing with Clark’s which tasted the copper from his
ruined lung. Bruce’s intoxicating perfume taking a new quality, the quality of
farewell. But Clark kept his eyes open absorbing the mesmerizing sapphire seas
which reflected Bruce’s calmness and happiness and pain for losing the man he
loved and for causing to that man so much pain.
The air was ending in his lungs and the blood choked him but Bruce didn’t want
to depart from Clark’s lips’ warmth, sweetness, kindness. Yet Clark sensed that
he was choking and blew an extension of life in him unlocking their lips to
ease his breath. Bruce knew that was futile.
He locked his eyes with Clark’s.
“Once…you told me” he closed his eyes trying to control the raging pain and
bring some normalcy to his panicked heart which tried to fight so many fronts
to do what she ought: pump life.
Clark began to fly again; his refuge of the imposing glistening pyramid made of
intersected white and blue crystals visible.
“That my eyes…were…the most…powerful…kryptonites” he opened his eyes to see
Clark’s crystal blue eyes staring lovingly at him.
Clark nodded pressing his lips.
“They are, Star…”
Bruce willed for the last time his hand to caress Clark’s tear – soaked cheek
relishing his Sun’s warmth.
“I’m…happy…you won’t…be … threatened…from…them…any…more…my love…”
And Clark’s bulged eyes saw Bruce’s velvet eyelids cover his irises softly,
gently as if he was lulled to sleep, his heartbeat stopping abruptly and his
head lolling backwards.
Clark’s howl was louder than a million sirens as Bruce’s lifeless body burned
his trembling hands. The veins in his neck bulged as his deafening,
heartbreaking scream of unimaginable pain passed the planet’s frontiers.
Several glaciers cracked and began dismantling but he didn’t care.
His eyes were squeezed shut, his breath and heartbeat stopped as his Star’s
only that he wouldn’t die from that… like… The realization exploded in his
mind: Bruce was dead.
He glued the tortured, boneless body to his body and buried Bruce’s beautiful
even in death - no, not death - face in his shoulder kissing the closed eyes
and lips. He didn’t manage to save him; he nibbled desperately his cheek
wetting him with his tears: Bruce was tortured all his life and the most
powerful bozo in the planet didn’t manage to save him even once. Even now.
His heart burst in a crazy, painful heartbeat, the sobs making his chest
heaving, his head throbbing. And then he sensed something and tucked Bruce in
his cape, settling his head carefully in his chest. In Bruce’s body there
wasn’t any sign of life but his brain…his brilliant mind had still some faid
waves.
“Hold on in there, babe” he said using all the speed he could. “You have so
many things to live…the entire life is before you…and I’m with you…I won’t let
anyone take you from me…Please, Star, you never gave up: don’t now…”
The Fortress’ peak opened sensing his approachment and Clark landed without
letting his legs touch the shining floor wanting to win some time. He cuddled
Bruce tighter.
“Prepare the medical chamber!” he roared to the Fortress “And call Jor El!”
He flew through the endless corridors seeing only Bruce’s ashen porcelain face.
“Hang on, Star!”
He stormed inside the sterilized medical chamber, several robots following him
and he looked hopefully at Jor El’s hologram who had settled on the great
cylindrical blue crystal over the medical bay. His biological father had his
arms crossed and frowned at him and the human he held in his arms; Clark’s arms
clenching Bruce even closer to his body. His voice cracked the chamber’s
silence and hurt Clark’s ears.
“Why did you bring a dead human in the Fortress?”
***** Chapter 72 *****
Chapter Notes
     I'd like to thank all of you for accompanying me to this journey,
     reading, commenting and leaving kudos.
“He is not dead!” Clark yelled at Jor El and caressed Bruce’s locks bringing
the human’s head to nestle under his chin; he kissed the cold hair. “There’s
brain activity…”
But Jor El shook his head eyeing his son disapprovingly.
“It is the last departing activity: it doesn’t mean anything.”
Clark grunted and opened Bruce’s mouth capturing it with his own pumping some
oxygen even though he knew that his lungs couldn’t use that gift, not
functioning at all. And then he glared at his father.
“You don’t know this man’s brilliant mind: if there is even the slightest
activity in his brain he can fight this and live. For Rao’s sake! Bruce
defeated a powerful demon just a few hours ago!”
“His human body is dead, mangled: you should let him rest” he frowned at Bruce
obviously interested from the demon info. “You ought to be aware by now that
humans die.”
Clark’s arms clenched Bruce protectively. His eyes were red when glared at his
untouched father.
“Bruce is not dead! We have the means to revive him since his brain is still
active and...and” tears streamed his face but his voice roared from the agony
that boiled in his chest. “We have the liquid I brought you when you asked me
how my powers were restored. And you know something?” he narrowed his eyes.
“This human was that gave me that medicine to save my life!”
Jor El’s eyes stirred interested at last and stopped at Bruce. Clark nodded.
“He saved my life more times than I can remember: weren’t for Bruce, I’d be
dead now! I can’t let him die; I won’t let him die… Because if he dies…” He
jerked his head and inhaled deeply unable to express sufficiently what he was
feeling.
But Jor El didn’t need any words to understand; he nodded.
“I didn’t know that he is so precious…”
Clark kissed tenderly Bruce’s forehead; he still sensed the brain waves.
“He is.”
“Lay him on the medical bay, Kal El. If he is so remarkable to cause your
admiration then he might have some chance.”
Clark’s heart began beating again at his father’s reassurance that he was going
to at least try. He knew the kind of a fighter Bruce was and he needed only a
little assistance. He brought his mouth to Bruce’s ear.
“Nothing ended, Star - I’m always with you…” he whispered and kissed his lobe.
He placed carefully, gently Bruce’s body on the bay and caressed his pale
cheeks.
“Take off his armor” Jor El ordered the robots but Clark yanked his head and
gestured to the robots forbitting.
“No!” there was no way he’ll let the robots touch his Star’s frail body; Bruce
needed softness and warmth.
He began unclasping the armor’s parts fast but gingerly as the night Bruce
sneaked to his apartment seeking his body and love. It really pained thinking
that night when in his haste to touch Bruce’s naked body managed to undo the
complex armor fast and without hurting him: he admired his own skill that
precise moment. That night that seemed like ages ago
But now he hadn’t the mind to admire his nerves of steel as every piece of the
armor he detached revealed more of Bruce’s horribly battered body. His entire
torso was blue indicating heavy internal bleeding; some broken ribs protruded
and some others Clark knew that had pierced his lung. His pelvis had several
shattered bones which continued to the thighs and calves. There were also
burnings in his back since the heat and the hardship was so grave that neither
the cape nor the armor was able to protect him till the end. Clark painfully
realized that Bruce’s splene was ruptured.
His eyes watered again failing to stop the scenes and the sensations from
Bruce’s breathtaking, porcelain white, lean and perfectly sculpted body
writhing completely naked under him; the comparison ripping his heart in
shreds.
He felt Jor El’s intense stare on him and looked up.
“I told you that it’d be better if you let him die and be free of the pain.”
Clark frowned and narrowed his eyes. He bit his lips hard.
“No! Bruce was never afraid of pain - he lived in grave pain from his childhood
and he fought through it coming out victorious. And now he sustained the pain
to save innocent lives. He must live, father!”
Jor El closed his eyes.
“He captured your heart and holds it…” he opened his eyes and eyed the naked
human. “Get out, Kal El.”
Clark’s eyes bulged bloodshot; his face was sweaty.
“No, I’ll stay with him all the time! I won’t abandon him - I want him to feel
me here with him!”
But Jor El was adamant as he gestured to the robots to approach.
“Your current condition won’t help the reviving process” he arched a
reprimanding eyebrow “and I doubt if you can handle it…”
Clark didn’t want to leave Bruce yet now he sensed that his father was
dedicated in saving him he knew that it was for Bruce’s best to obey. Jor El
was one of the best scientists in Krypton and his wisdom was respected. And
Clark didn’t want to waste more time.
He touched his cheek to Bruce’s cheek and kissed him softly, the faint brain
waves indicating that his Star lingered to hear his voice a bit more before
departing; like a sweet lullaby to the eternal sleep.
“I want you to use your amazing will to fight a little more. There are so many
people who wait for you… and me among them… And you have so many things to
live, to live with me… I know it’s difficult but you thrive in difficulties…
Please, babe… Now I must leave you but only for a while and I’ll be near…” he
kissed his lips and caressed his locks once more before standing up and walking
towards the door his eyes on Bruce.
The door slithered upwards in his approach but Clark was still trembling, still
unwilling to part with Bruce in case he lost him. But Jor El’s eyes following
him all the time were determined and Clark stepped out, the door shutting
behind him; the last glimpse he got was of Fortress’ pale blue light wrapping
Bruce’s body.
 
Tony gulped the third glass of scotch trying not looking at Alfred’s slumped
form on the armchair, his cracked face and sank eyes so unusual for him that
Tony couldn’t stand it. The butler was staring with dead eyes the porcelain
oval plate with the delicious smelling, fresh baked cinnamon cookies waiting…
Like all of them…
Alfred’s crushing pain made the realization more devastating for Tony: Bruce
was lost. They lost him again. He rubbed his face. He had kept his agony and
pain at bay for a while because he needed to settle some urgent matters as
Bruce would have wanted…
He yanked his head and inhaled deeply. He called Pepper to inform Dr. Eliot
that for the time being Bruce’s condition didn’t permit such surgery - he
trusted Pepper with using any decoratives to gratify the doctor. Pepper asked
him what happened and he hardly uttered the words. His voice unrecognizable
even to him.
And then he had to inform Jim Gordon that he took Bruce in a special
rehabilitation center in Malibu to be safe.
Thankfully, only Selina and he saw Superman taking Batman from the demolished
building but still a rumor spread in Gotham that Batman died saving the
children Joker held. The jester was securely stashed back into Tony’s special
cage.
Selina who was perched at the arched window looking at the dark Palisades had
her forehead pressed on the cool window. She was still wearing Catwoman’s suit
and her face bore the marks of the devastation: dust, smoke, scratches and
lines formed by her tears.
She jerked from her place determined and walked to Alfred to hold his shoulder.
The older man raised his eyes which were filled with love for his young
master’s best friend.
“Don’t lose your hopes, Alfred; Superman took him and I’m sure he did it
because he had a plan. He won’t let Bruce die” she smiled trying to comfort the
kind man as Bruce would have wanted.
Alfred patted her hand and grinned to her.
“You were there, Miss Kyle; you know better…” he clenched his temble. “Oh, my!
How uncaring of me…” he said with a shaking, tired voice that he struggled to
make composed. “You and Master Anthony should be starving… I…” he stood but his
shoulders were unusually slumped and Selina bit her lip. “I’ll prepare
something for you to eat…”
Tony looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“I’m not hungry, Al, thank you. You should rest…”
Selina nodded but Alfred shook his head.
“You two should rest; I’ll prepare one of the guest rooms for you Miss Kyle” he
moved towards the arch shaped exit but stopped his gaze caressing the biscuits
Bruce loved so much and gulped a torturous knot in his throat taking his
decision to ask what his fear didn’t let him till now. “Master Anthony, please
tell me everything: that remarkable sensors of your armor must have managed to
scan Master Bruce’s body even from a distance…” his voice was cracked from
agony.
And Tony sighed pinching the bridge of his nose not sure if he wanted to utter
or share it with the suffering Alfred because he sensed that Selina figured
already. After all, she was with Bruce till almost the last moment.
“When Superman heard Jarvis informing me that Batman saved the children from
Joker and Chicky’s factory was burning, sped up so fast that even in my most
speed I couldn’t catch him. However when he freed Bruce from the debris and
took him before the roof collapsed I managed to see him even from a distance. I
yelled at him but he didn’t answer – probably, he didn’t hear anything in his
state…” he lowered his eyes. “I tried to follow him but at some point my
sensors lost him and that goes for the satelites I have access.”
Alfred made the question that Selina hesitated to ask; the question he dreaded
but he must do.
“Was he alive?” his broken eyes locked with Tony’s to force him answer honestly
without any adornment.
Tony cast a lopsided glance to Selina’s bloodshot eyes and Alfred rebelled.
“Master Anthony, please tell me the truth” Alfred’s features were strained but
brave. “I need to know the truth” he gulped “even if this truth isn’t…pleasant.
I assure you, I can handle it.”
The two young people doubted whether Alfred would stand losing Bruce for the
second time especially after he managed to get him back but the butler frowned
in a stern scowl and Tony licked his lips.
“Bruce’s vitals were very faint…” he answered in a hasky voice.
Alfred bit his lip’s inside but looked the younger man in the eyes.
“You mean he was dying…” his voice was steady but in the last word almost sank.
Tony pressed his lips and took in Selina’s sparkling eyes that were as
demanding as Alfred’s.
“I’m afraid that…” he ran his hand in his hair pulling them backwards. “His
vitals were too faint” his mouth twitched. “Yes, he…he was sinking.”
He immediately turned his back to them facing the fireplace; he couldn’t stare
at Alfred’s brave but blank eyes neither Selina’s pale drained face. He punched
the marble.
“If that freaking alien had brought Bruce to us, we had given him the Water of
Immortality; at least, we’d have reinforced his organism to fight, he’d have
gotten some strength to last…Bruce saved my life with  that medicine…If that
alien had permitted it I could have done the same…But his selfism..!” he
gritted his teeth.
Alfred placed his hand on the younger man’s shoulder blade.
“Maybe it wasn’t selfism, Master Anthony. Maybe Master Kent chose to take
Master Bruce because he knew that our means couldn’t save him. Maybe he has
more advanced and effective ways to keep him alive and then he brings Master
Bruce back.”
Tony closed his eyes; he was happy that Alfred hadn’t lost his hope – even
though he suspected that the kind man kept a brave face for their sake and
would break down when left alone. However Tony couldn’t sustain even that hope:
he experienced Superman’s paranoia and now under these circumstances he was
afraid that the Man of Steel took Bruce to have him for his self… even dead. He
couldn’t share that macabre suspicion with them.
So he just nodded and forced his lips to form a line turning to Alfred and
Selina.
 
 
Clark was pacing outside the medical chamber hearing the humming sound of the
proceedings inside, horrific images tormenting his frantic mind, of cold, sharp
medical instruments piercing and penetrating Bruce’s already tortured body.
And the hours dragged tormentingly, endlessly; his heart was drumming in his
ears and his mind dizzy and foggy constantly replaying the image of Bruce’s
horribly battered naked body as he undressed him. Could he last all these and
wake up? Maybe he was too idiot to expect that?
He felt exhaustion cutting his knees and suddenly the need to sit down for the
first time in his life became crushing so the Fortress conjured an armchair for
him. He slumped and hid his face between his hands. Bruce simply couldn’t die;
it was unthinkable: all this beauty, all this intelligence, the skills, the
goodness of heart, the strength… the love he was bereft off all these years but
he abundantly gave to the people around him. The love Clark had to give him.
He punched the wall behind him and instantly cracked and mended. How many hours
they needed?! He sighed: at least, let all these hours of agony be fruitful…
He remembered the day his father died: it was instant and neither he nor the
human doctors had the chance to do anything. It was a heart attack. He felt
again the stinging pain of seeing his father dead; the dawning realization that
they would never speak again; he’d never hear his father’s kind voice advicing
him; he’d never see again his parents together. His mother’s cracked from grief
face.
Why there should be death? Why they had to lose their loved ones? Especially,
when he had years and centuries to give them to live? This pain was bending
him… He was scared of that pain and only the thought that Bruce could be lost
forever and he’d never listen to his voice again or touch his gorgeous body or
hear him moaning from pleasure or listen to his strong heart beat in calming
bliss after their love making burnt his insides; Bruce nestling his head in his
chest relishing the warmth and the love.
The almost inaudible hissing of the door to the medical chamber made his heart
beat frantically and he jolted on his feet.
“Kal El, you can come” Jor El’s deep unreadable voice called him inside and
Clark wished he could detect something in that voice to figure out what to
expect.
He closed his eyes, drew a deep breath and rushed inside as the robots passed
him heading to the corridor.
Bruce was laid on the medical bay, Jor El at the crystal pillar above him
staring at the human who was now dressed in the House of El ceremonial attire:
dark blue long velvet robe, embroidered with silver symbols in the neck’s V and
the wrists, a silver belt binding loosely his waist. On his chest, the El’s
symbol: the yellow diamond with the red S made of gold and rubies.
Bruce was heartbreakingly beautiful in his House’s official attire but his
closed eyes and pale face created to Clark the impression of a death clothe.
However hope flickered in Clark because the light blue color of the Fortress’
energy was washing Bruce’s body giving him whatever a human organism needed to
be sustained.
Clark closed his eyes and sighed in relief. He was alive! He lasted the
procedure! But he was still unconscious and Clark was afraid that it would be
too difficult to come round.
He walked to the bench and leaned over him penetrating the energy field to peck
tenderly his cheek that had regained some warmth. Clark was thrilled to hear a
weak heartbeat and raspiration even though he knew that the Fortress was
assisting.
He clenched Bruce’s white hand.
“You did a remarkable job, Star! We’ll make it…”
Jor El gestured to him to get out of the energy field and Clark obeyed; he
would do whatever Jor El asked him because Jor El had kept Bruce alive and
would help him wake up. He raised his eyes to his father, asking.
“You are right” he answered “your human friend is quite strong and knows how to
fight.”
Clark pressed his lips; Jor El’s initial doubt made him angry.
“How is he?”
“I had to remove his splene because it was totally smashed and just worsened
the internal bleeding” Clark already knew that. “The internal bleeding was
still heavy as his entire muscle tissue severe ruptured but it was stopped;
also I restored his pierced lung and stomach. I managed to revive him but his
organism is too exhausted and harmed to overcome the damage that was made. It’s
amazing that his upper spine has extended fractures but isn’t completely
destroyed – it seems that his armor protected him. However his lower spine is
almost pulverized: there were marks of older accumulated damage that made
things worse.”
Clark nodded and drew a deep breath: his hatred for Bruce’s tormentors ate him
like a slow fire. Jor El studied him curious and continued.
“The bones in his legs have serious fractures: the left femur, tibia and fibula
have segmental fractures while in the right leg the same bones have fractures
but less ominous. Most of his ribs are cracked or broken and his right
clavicle, scapula, humerus and radius are comminuted fractured – his right arm
was for years deformed and maldeveloped so the new blow was devastating.”
Clark closed his eyes.
“His left hand’s bones are fractured but the healing will be faster. I have set
energy casts in his bones to gradually mend them. The casts will enable him to
manage some soft movements and block the pain signals to his brain keeping the
suffering to the minimum. Besides I think that your friend is used to live with
pain” he cocked his eyebrows.
Clark looked fondly at the sleeping form.
“Thank you for sparing him from the pain…”
Jor El raised his palm.
“If he ever recovers.”
Clark’s expression became gloom.
“But…”
Jor El’s sharp stare stabbed him.
“His heart after so many years of starvation, torture and…” his stare became
more intense “rape was already arrhythmic and the hardship he’s been through
lately, before this devastating multi-injury weakened the organ considerably.”
Clark realized what was in his father’s intense stare: disapproval because his
own son, Kal El, had let the human suffer so much. He lowered his eyes.
“I know it’s my fault and I condemn myself” he shook his head. “But he’s the
bravest, most determined and self sacrificing being I ever met; he wouldn’t let
innocent children in danger waiting for me to return – actually, he ordered me”
he chuckled with his father’s interested frown “to go where people were in
danger insisting that he’d be alright; but then when he learnt that a madman
threatened to kill children he left the hospital to save them though he was
already injured and weakened” his eyes stabbed his father’s pleading with him.
“He must live, father!”
Jor El looked at Bruce and Clark discerned a flicker of admiration and fondness
in the stern eyes of what was left of his biological father.
“If you had taken him to a human hospital he’d have died; he’d have struggled
for some hours but in the end he’d have perished. The revival liquid which I
also used would have delayed his demise but it wouldn’t have saved him.”
Clark nodded, relieved that his instinct to bring Bruce here was right because
all these hours his insides were clenched dreading that if he had taken him
immediately to Leslie things would have been better.
“Jor El, tell me that he will recover…”
The hologram’s eyes were grim.
“He needs something more than the liquid life and the Fortress’ energy to
overcome his wounds and the loss of vitality.”
Clark bit his lips.
“What? I’m willing to do anything!”
Jor El nodded.
“I know but unfortunately it’s not up to you or anyone else.”
Clark rolled his eyes and slapped his palms to his cheeks.
“Just tell me.”
“I’m afraid that there’s no equivalent for humans” he pressed his lips. “You
see, in Krypton every baby had a birth crystal protecting him; this crystal
accompanied him or her throughout the entire life. Every Kryptonian had a
special connection with that crystal and benefited from the crystal’s energy –
especially, in difficult situations” he cocked his eyebrows. “Humans don’t have
something like this: if your human – Bruce – was connected with a crystal like
ours, this crystal could have restored his lost power and evergy.”
But Clark’s eyes widened in joy with a dawning realization and Jor El frowned.
“Kal El?”
Clark caressed Bruce with his eyes and smiled.
“Actually, there’s a gem that is connected with Bruce’s entire life; it belongs
to him and protected him many times. Actually, that gem was given to Bruce with
the blessing of the Goddess to which belongs.”
Jor El’s thick brows frowned.
“Which gem is that?”
“An ancient black diamond: the legendary Black Butterfly; the one half that was
lost for centuries.”
Now Jor El’s eyes widened, really amazed.
“Goddess Nemesis’ sacred diamond that blocked Bagdana’s powers during the
demon’s battle with the Olympians enabling Zeus to defeat him” Clark pressed
his lips and nodded – he didn’t expect Jor El knowing so much about Human
Mythology. “Bruce has double DNA which is rare for humans and” he cocked his
eyebrows “both of his DNAs are uncommon…Is he connected with Nemesis?”
“He is. His one DNA is from the last great priest of the Goddess.”
 “Do you know where the gem is?”
Clark closed his eyes and shook his head pinching his nose trying to
concentrate the thoughts inside his stormy mind.
“Bruce had it in his possession and…” he raised his eyes determined “I’ll find
it!”
Jor El nodded.
Superman rushed at the door which opened for him and the roof in the corridor
did the same for him to take off for Gotham.
 
Alfred sat on the king sized bed at the master bedroom, a fluffy toy tenderly
held between his hands under his unfocused stare. The room was in complete
darkness and only the sparkling stars and the moon sent some light inside.
He was hours there. He had struggled to persuade Master Anthony and Miss Kyle
to get some sleep; both of them, Alfred knew, were exhausted physically but
most importantly emotionally.
Poor Miss Kyle was with Master Bruce in the inferno factory; she found him
trapped, crushed under a huge pile of debris… fainting. But still his young
master urged her to leave and take the boy with her - his son knew that there
was nothing that could be done for him and didn’t want anyone to die for his
sake. Master Bruce lived his short tortured life saving other people
sacrificing himself - and that last act broke Miss Kyle’s kind heart. The young
lady was forced to abandon Master Bruce for the first time in their strongly
bonded life and that cost her…
Master Anthony suffered and tried to quench his pain with alcohol but Alfred
didn’t have the strength to ask him to stop drinking. Actually, even he felt
the need for some booze; though all these eighteen years fought the need to
sink in the bliss of alcohol, this time the whim was overwhelming and if there
weren’t the two young people with their devastation Alfred would have probably
drink to intoxication.
But he needed to encourage them; to care for their health; to persuade them
that he was hopeful, that he believed that Master Bruce was alive, even though
inside he was crying and bleeding.
Alfred wasn’t stupid: he understood that Master Anthony and Miss Kyle agreed to
accept his care, eat and sleep (if succumbing to physical and emotional
exhaustion can be named ‘sleep’) because they wanted to please him. But Alfred
was relieved to stay alone, free to take out what exploded inside him.
Lucius called having heard the rumors about Batman; it was the first time
Alfred heard the man’s voice so grim and beaten – well, if the night of the
Waynes’ murder was excluded. He grugdingly told him what happened, that
Superman took him before the building collapsed but Master Anthony scanned that
he was in terrible condition. On that Lucius struggled to take his usual
optimistic tone trying to console Alfred.
Which was also Leslie’s attempt. She called after she had checked every child
Joker held and Richard Grayson – thankfully, the kids were alright and Bruce
would be very happy to learn, Alfred thought before biting his lips remembering
the truth. She didn’t put on an optimistic face upon learning the news about
Bruce’s last minute rescuing – Leslie just changed the subject telling that she
wanted to come to the Manor but the clinic needed her and suggested to him
taking a sleeping pill because he needed some rest.
 Alfred could sense in his old friend’s voice the same guilt that tormented
him. They shouldn’t have listened to Master Bruce; they shouldn’t have let his
self sacrifice win; they should have stopped him sedating him and not easing
his suicidal plans…
But nobody was right to feel guilty except from him; nobody abandoned Master
Bruce. He did; and wasn’t the first time: he bragged that he loved that boy yet
all his life Alfred was abandoning Bruce to his horrid fate.
Two sparkling children eyes, filled with innocence, confusion, terror and
begging flooded his tired mind. That morning after the funeral, when Falcone
and Chill dragged the injured boy in the Manor to blackmail Alfred not speaking
or the boy would die. Young Bruce’s pained eyes had begged him to take him from
these men… But he didn’t…Just watched them wrapping the boy in a blanket,
tossing him in the car and taking him away…For endless years of agony for him
and torture for the boy.
Alfred’s eyes broke the good butler’s code and burst in tears as his heart
ached and he clenched more the old, soft toy.
The same haunted by cruel abuse eyes were stabbing him again as he was forced
to leave Dolcetto because if he disobeyed, Falcone would have killed young
Master Bruce whose terrorized shiver was evident as the mobster’s brutal hands
touched him inappropriately even in front of Alfred. And he had abandoned the
poor boy to these hideous monsters to save his life…condemning him to a
torturous, slow, daily death…
He took a deep inhale because he was choking and found himself listening eager
for that slight sound that gave him the biggest joy in life: Master Bruce had
managed to escape his jail and came to see him. Every night like tonight he had
readied for him freshly baked cinnamon biscuits. And when the almost
imperceptible hissing sound of the old passage electrified his heart he ran
in the pitch black of the corridor because Master Bruce was afraid that they
watched the Manor to hug his boy.
Maybe at any moment he’d hear the same joyful sound and then he’d run to the
corridor and see him: maybe dirty, maybe exhausted, maybe beaten but alive and
beaming at seeing his butler again…
He closed his eyes after almost half an hour of desperate waiting and hoping
and listening intensely at the mournful sounds of the sleeping Manor. He bit
his lips: some nights Master Bruce didn’t manage to escape and Alfred’s insides
were lacerated from fear and knowledge of what this absence meant. But after
some nights – few or many – Master Bruce would return and his agony would be
eased replaced with happiness.
However, Alfred had to admit to himself that tonight’s absence wouldn’t be
compensated from a return: his sweet, tortured kid won’t come back because this
time Alfred abandoned him to his death.
“Master Bruce…” his voice sank from a sob “my poor boy… my amazing son…” sobs
shattered his voice and tears flowed to his wrinkled face.
He clutched his face with both hands and the fluffy toy fell to the floor, the
soft noise startling him. He looked at the weathered, soft panda bear and its
sweet eyes seemed so sad.
As young Master Bruce’s that evening.
He was dusting the back drawing room when he heard the light, soft footsteps of
his four year old Master. Alfred knew very well every vital sign of his young
Master from the time he almost died when still an infant and now Bruce’s breath
was uneven as if he was running and a big sigh of relief left his lungs at
seeing Alfred.
Alfred turned to him keeping his stern, poised, butlerish expression fighting
the loving smile that flickered in his lips.
“Master Bruce, we spoke many times about no running in the house?” he scowled
at the flashed boy who reddened even more.
“I’m sorry, Alfred…I…”
“It’s fine, Master Bruce” he wasn’t supposed to smile but his eyes were
grinning to calm the boy. “Now, something upset you, right?” he softened his
voice.
The boy nodded and showed him the teddy bear he was holding; the leg of the toy
was almost completely torn only a thread attaching it to the rest of the body,
the fluffy material having almost emptied.  Bruce’s sweet eyes were tearful and
Alfred’s heart melted; he took carefully the toy from the boy’s hand. Alfred
knew that toy: was really old, from the first toys they bought to the newborn
Bruce. And the boy loved the toy but time was cruel and the teddy bear was
really battered.
“Tommy, grabbed Tao - Tao an’ told me that I must get rid of him because it’s
old and ugly and battered.... I told him that I love Tao - Tao an’ he called me
an idiot an’ ripped his little leg; he wanted to tear him in pieces but I
snatched it an’ ran....” the sobs were disrupting his sad voice and he was
pouting sniffing his cute nose.
Alfred felt for the kid.
“I understand you, Master Bruce and what Master Elliot did was very bad. But
Tao - Tao is really old and battered… Maybe we should go to the mall and by a
new Tao-Tao?”
However the boy narrowed his eyes and frowned.
“No! I don’t want anyone else, only him… Because he is old and battered he
doesn’t deserve to be to the junk alone and abandoned… I don’t want him to be
alone and sick...He’ll be cold, soaked from the rain or mice will eat him”
tears flooded his eyes and Alfred was sure that the boy was seeing his toy in
the junkyard alone and miserable crying as he was doing now.
Bruce snatched the teddy bear from him and hugged it tightly.
“I won’t abandon him ‘cause he’s ill and old…”
Alfred saw the boy turning  his back ready to storm out of the room sure that
Alfred wouldn’t help him; that he was alone. But the butler placed his hand on
Bruce’s shoulder and the tearful eyes were raised at him hopefully.
“You’re right, Master Bruce; forgive me for being so insensitive… May I see
your friend?”
Bruce smiled and gave him the toy wipping his eyes with his sleeve. Alfred
examined it and nodded.
“I think it can be fixed…”
The boy’s eyes flashed with joy and he rushed to hug Alfred’s waist who
couldn’t help himself from crouching and brushing Bruce’s locks.
“You know you’re a remarkable boy, Master Bruce?”
Bruce looked at him flashed.
“No, I’m just Bruce, Alfred…”
“Don’t call me ‘master’ or ‘sir’, Alfred…I’m only Bruce…” the adult Bruce told
him again behind closed eyes he covered with his palm “that’s why I mess things
up…”
“I’m ungrateful…I cause you pain while you…you stayed in Gotham and suffered
because of me…and I’m still tormenting you. I even yelled at you for the
clothes – and everything is really perfect, you always do the best for me, but
I’m useless and…and a dirtbag…It’s not reasonable to love so much someone like
me!” he clenched Alfred’s vest.
 “You deserve a better boss, Alfred; someone who won’t make you cry…”
No, that wasn’t true; Master Bruce always caused him happiness and all the
positive warm feelings a man can experience. His precious boy… They took him
away from him for so many years and now once again…
He clenched the old toy in his chest; he hadn’t given Tao-Tao to his young
master when he was free of Falcone’s slavery and now berated himself because he
had wanted to keep the toy for himself… How selfish of him…
He heard the sound of light steps before the door opened and he turned; his
heart racing in his chest. Master Bruce finally returned: he could see the cape
waving around him - he was Batman when disaster happened and probably he
couldn’t change his attire unassisted.
He stood eager to hug his son. But his shoulders slumped: no pointy ears and
cowl and though he could fool himself that his Master pulled off the cowl,
Alfred was sure that it wasn’t his son. Instantly clapped once, clenching the
toy, and the room was filled with abundant light.
Clark in his haste and agony to find the diamond scanned the dark Manor but not
Bruce’s bedroom. He could have heard the heartbeat inside the room but his own
heartbeat echoed in his skull. So he was startled to see Alfred in front of
him, his face wet from tears that still stagnated in his eyes - a weathered
teddy bear was glued tenderly to his chest and the kind man didn’t care to hide
it. Clark had no doubt about Tao – Tao’s owner. He bit his lip; he didn’t
contact Alfred and the others…
“Master Kent…” Alfred acknowledged him and Clark just stared at him guiltily.
“If… Master Bruce is…” the poor man couldn’t even utter the word and Superman
lowered his eyes. “If he’s not alive… please, don’t keep him away from me…
Please, bring him back to me, even if he is… dead…”
Then it crushed Clark’s mind. The pain of the man, his agony for his beloved
child. His own agony made him forget the others. He rushed to Alfred and
grabbed his upper arms, carefully. Alfred looked at him frowned and puzzled
seeing the Man of Steel pressing his lips with a hesitant smile flickering.
“He is not dead, Alfred!”
Alfred’s eyes flared up but still the doubt was there: maybe the grief drove
Superman crazy?
“I took him to the Fortress” and suddenly remembering that Alfred didn’t know
anything about the Fortress “is my… headquarters… and I took him there because
it has the means to save him. We revived him, Alfred!” he was beaming now
wanting to give the man some console to compensate for the agony. “We
stabilized him and he’ll live, Alfred but I need the Black Butterfly to help
him.”
Alfred slowly took in the meaning but still he couldn’t overcome the numbness.
“The Black Butterfly?”
Clark nodded beaming.
“Master Bruce had left the black diamond here before going to MIster Luthor…”
“Can you give it to me?”
“Of course, Master Kent” he seemed to finally regaining his composed demeanor
but was still hugging the teddy bear while opening the drawer and bringing out
of the secret case a pouch which carried the precious gem.
Alfred walked like a robot to Clark and stretched hesitantly the pouch.
Obviously he was very reluctant to let go of anything connected with his young
Master. And Clark understood him so much…
“It will help him wake up and be again with us; I promise you, Alfred: I’ll
bring him back to you…”
Alfred nodded and gave him the pouch, Clark feeling the gem’s vibrations. He
turned to leave but he heard the change in Alfred’s breath and knew that he
wanted to tell him something so he looked at him with deep respect.
“Master Kent, tell Master Bruce that we all love him… that Alfred loves him and
he always gives me happiness…”
Clark’s eyes were teary too feeling the pain that burnt the man’s heart.
“I’ll tell him, Alfred; though I’m sure he knows…”
He sped and left the Manor in a blur, taking off with his craziest speed to the
Arctic.
Jor El was still with Bruce monitoring his vitals though it wasn’t necessary
since the Fortress was doing that. Clark’s loving eyes brushed Bruce’s face
that was beautiful even bruised, ashen and battered. His father cleared his
throat to wake his son from his mesmerized stupor.
“You brought it?”
Clark blushed and nodded, searching his cape: the Knife of Justice that was
safely stashed there grazed his hand before he grabbed the pouch. He opened it
and took out the triangular diamond which had the form of a wing – a bat wing.
Jor El nodded.
“Open Bruce’s robe and place the diamond over his heart.”
Clark didn’t need to hear it a second time; he untied the invisible silver
cordons that held together the robe’s parts at Bruce’s chest; eagerly but
reverently with shaking hands. He placed the fabric on Bruce’s shoulders and
his gaze was lost in the human’s bruised, scratched but still appealing flesh,
as memories from the precious two times of their love making flooded his mind.
His hand touched gingerly Bruce’s chest and his mouth was drawn to his Star’s
battered nipples as if a powerful magnet called it.
Jor El cleared again his throat and Clark blushed, sweat spurting to his
forehead. He touched the glowing black gem to Bruce’s heart, fearful because
the once powerful pulse was now so weak. Finally, he clenched his teeth and let
respectfully the gem, begging it and the Goddess to help Bruce as they did till
now.
And then something happened that Clark couldn’t even imagine or hope. The gem
vibrated and suddenly burst in light: black, blinding light that was divided in
every color of the iris, eliminating the medical chamber’s low blue light.
Dazzling blue, yellow, orange, green, red, indigo beams inundated the room and
filled Clark’s body with warmth that even the sun didn’t. He was gaping
sheepishly till he heard Bruce’s heart giving a strong kick and then the pace
became normal.
Jor El’s eyes were filled with knowledge and satisfaction.
Clark’s joy was such that he ignored the impressive beams of every colored
diamond in the earth and stormed at Bruce, kneeling beside the medical bay. He
caressed with both hands Bruce’s freshly washed soft locks that smelled
heavenly.
He kissed the human’s pale lips.
“Well, done, Star! You’re great! You’ll make it, babe” he whispered. “Your
diamond is here and your protectors will help you recover and come back to me…”
he remembered Alfred’s tearful eyes “back to all of us.”
He kissed tenderly his forehead that bore scratches, bruises and some swelling
as his entire face.
“Alfred asked me to tell you that they all love you, all wait for you to come
back: Tony, Selina, Leslie, Lucius, Pepper… Alfred. Alfred asked me to tell you
that you always give him happiness…”
He cupped Bruce’s hand that felt odd with all the broken bones despite the fact
that Fortress had tended them with energy casts. His eyes settled on Bruce’s
softly covered orbs as if urging the human to open them and acknowledge him.
But it was too soon Jor El knew.
“You need to rest, Kal El; your powers might be infinite but emotional
exhaustion can disrupt them.”
However Clark wouldn’t let Bruce’s hand neither his side; there was no other
place for him to be in the whole universe.
“When that horrible substance in Bruce’s cells had almost ruined my powers”
Clark said keeping his eyes on Bruce’s face “the Water of Immortality restored
them remarkably fast and effective but still something was missing.”
Jor El looked interested.
“But the second time you came to the Fortress your powers were as before; as if
nothing had happened.”
Clark nodded and looked at his father.
“It was after…” he felt uncomfortable to share it “after my body united with
Bruce’s: it was as if I sucked energy from the most powerful, benevolent, rare
sun.”
Jor El cocked an eyebrow.
“Your emotional fulfillment – your elevated psychology.”
But Clark shook his head and caressed with the other hand Bruce’s cheek.
“It wasn’t just psychology: both Lucius Fox and you saw the actual difference.
Bruce’s body is my healing sun.”
Jor El remained silent.
“I’ll stay here watching him and the Fortress is tuned with his vitals. Please,
Kal El, have some rest.”
Clark pinched the bridge of his nose, his other hand always holding Bruce’s.
“There’s no other place for me to be…”
Jor El nodded.
“As you wish” and he prepared to leave the medical chamber but Clark stopped
him suddenly remembering something.
“You told me that every Kryptonian has a birth crystal which protects and
strengthens him all his life…” he asked with narrowed eyes. “Which was mine?”
he continued when Jor El nodded.
His father yanked his head.
“A Kryptonite.”
Clark shook his head.
“Impossible. Kryptonite is killing me.”
“Not your birth Kryptonite: the rarest and priciest Kryptonite in Krypton.”
Clark furrowed his brows.
“What kind of Kryptonite?” he asked curious.
Jor El looked his son solemnly.
“Sapphire blue Kryptonite with emerald light in the core.”
Clark’s eyes bulged and his touched gaze fell on his Star’s softly closed eyes.
“Like…” he said to his father without looking at him, the emotion not letting
him utter it.
“Bruce’s eyes…” Jor El replied and vanished from the cylindrical, central
crystal pillar to give some privacy to his son who goggled at Bruce.
He was already missing those enchanting eyes: their sweetness, their anger,
their love, their passion and their shine during his orgasm…
The Black Butterfly’s glorious spectrum kept illuminating the chamber having
erased the Fortress’ pale blue light and Clark sensed that the Goddess’ gem
wanted Bruce muffled only in its own light which was perfectly fine with him.
He was watching Bruce’s each faint inhale and exhale, the black gem moving in
his pace, in harmony… And then Clark made the realization: Bruce was exactly
like the valuable gem – a black prism that in the slightest light beautified
the world.
“You make my world beautiful, you know that?” he chuckled. “I’m selfish… the
world of all your friends” he shook his head. “I don’t think you ever realized
how happy you made all of them: Tony, Selina, Leslie, Lucius, Alfred…” he
cocked his eyebrows. “Alfred is eagerly waiting to pamper and spoil you as soon
as you open your eyes…” he sighed. “I know you gave the hardest battle, so hard
I can’t even imagine, and you’re still fighting…but…” he rubbed his forehead.
“Please, wake up and we’ll make sure you get the rest you deserve… Come back to
me, huh?”
He touched his head on the mattress and closed his eyes lulled by the soft but
stronger now beat of Bruce’s heart and the low humming sound emanated from the
warm gem.
Suddenly, the vibration of his cell phone startled him: he had closed the com
connecting him with the other heroes but his common cell phone had stayed open.
He rushed out of the room hastily but reluctant to leave Bruce’s side.
“Hey, Lois” his voice was too hasky.
“Hey, Smallville, I’m sorry to interrupt. Stark said that transferred Bruce to
a special rehab in Malibu and I assumed that you’re there. In Gotham, there are
rumors that Batman died at Chicky’s factory collapse.”
Clark was taken aback and some seconds were necessary for him to reconnect with
the reality of Lois ignoring Bruce’s true identity and that Tony had to invent
some alibi to justify Bruce’s absence to not be revealed.
“What?”
He heard Lois grunting.
“C’me on, Clark! Earth calling Krypton! Do you have any intelligence on Batman?
You know? As superhero to superhero?”
Oh! He loved Lois and her chatter but right now he was too tired and wanted to
return to Bruce.
“It’d be nice to have something to compensate for Vale bragging after she
exploited my instinct.”
Clark frowned.
“What?”
Lois puffed.
“Unfortunately, that bitch followed me at Leslie’s clinic and captured you
bringing back Bruce all love and tenderness… and of course made it frontpage
news…”
“Shit!” he exclaimed and felt anger boilling inside him – what kind of person
does something like this?  
“Exactly!” he heard her exasperated nod. “So you know anything about Batman?”
Clark realized that he must at some point get back in Gotham and impersonate
Batman even without the cape and cowl since they were ruined. Criminals would
get wild if they believe that Batman died.
“Batman is alive, Lois” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Publish that; he is
Batman – a little demolition couldn’t beat him: the Bat is unbeatable.”
“Thank you, Clark; it’d be a great relief for Gotham’s citizens. Can I write
that our – Clark Kent and me - source is Superman? That will definitely shut
any doubtful mouth.”
Clark sighed with impatience.
“Of course, Lois.”
Lois understood his state.
“I’m sorry for bothering you, big guy; I feel for you… How is the Prince? – Off
the record, of course…”
“He manifested some deteriorating that made Stark take him to the center and
now he is under constant and intense monitoring and he’s a fighter…” his voice
cracked.
“Poor thing…” Lois’ voice was throaty. “But with you and his loved ones on his
side he’ll manage…I’m sure…and you should be sure, Smallville; because any
doubt is an insult to that brave man, do you hear me?”
Clark grinned.
“You’re right, Lois…I’d be an idiot if I doubt him…”
“I’ll tell Perry that you’re sick and you need a leave – Leave everything to
me: I know you’re not in the mood to handle such matters.
“I appreciate that, Lois; you’re always so kind and caring…”
Lois chuckled.
“You need that, big guy; you’re always such a kicked puppy! But I want
something for exchange…”
“Name it.”
“Call me for any news on our sweet Prince…” her voice became serious.
“You bet. Thank you for everything, Lois…”
“Don’t mention it!”
Upon returning to the chamber, the upwards dragging of the door made him
realize the miracle happening in that room. Bruce’s body was in the center of
the most beautiful and strong spectrum he ever saw in the entire universe. The
brilliant colors illuminating enchantingly his beautiful sleeping face in
perfect harmony as if the man and the black gem was one.
And the blue velvet ceremonial attire of the House of El never looked so
majestic, the undone cordons that were invisible unless you touched them
revealed Bruce’s chest. Marred was the truth but still appealing, intensifying
Clark’s nostalgia and enriching his dreams with scenes of that night in their
greenhouse.
 
Clark had to return to his job: two weeks of sick leave was too much and he
felt bad enough for needing to bring a medical document that was the product of
Fortress’ extreme skills in…forgery. But which doctor would examine him and
affirm that he needed a ‘sick leave’ or that he was ‘sick’?
However Perry didn’t look twice at the paper: lately his editor was too fond of
him.
His Star would scowl at him if he knew… He sighed having his chin supported in
his palm staring at a closed computer screen. He was forced to leave Bruce
alone in the Fortress – well, not alone with Jor El watching him – but still it
wasn’t the same… He’d fly to the Fortress during the break and…whenever he
found a chance.
“Hey, Smallville! Are you fine now?” Lois yelled at him approaching for
everyone else to hear.
He jolted in his seat as Clark Kent would do and smilled sheepishly to her.
“Still a bit under the weather.”
Lois sat on his desk and leaned to him.
“Judging from your look and the blank stare, Bruce is still in critical
condition…”
Clark locked his eyes with her and pressed his lips. Lois held his shoulder.
“Don’t lose your hope; he’ll make it – he just needs time…” she frowned as a
whisper spread to the entire room and she looked around, her jaw dropping.
But Clark already knew.
“Tony Stark here?” his colleagues whispered but Tony didn’t relish on the
attention as usual and just marched to Clark’s office.
He was immaculate dressed but his eyes had big, black bugs of fatigue. He
glared at Clark for a few seconds and then acknowledged Lois.
“Morning, Lois, how are you?” he asked unable to make his voice calm. “Sorry to
interrupt but I want to speak with him” he cocked his eyebrows to Clark
suggestively hinting that he wouldn’t want witnesses and Clark stood towering
the billionaire who however looked at him unfazed with a smug, hateful
expression.
“Well, o…of course, Mr. Stark…” he stuttered “’xcuse me, Lois…”
Lois shrugged her shoulders.
“Sure…” but followed them with narrowed, curious eyes.
Tony was boiling inside, his heartbeat drumming in his ears so he didn’t care
if he was dragging the most powerful man on earth and probably the entire
universe. He opened the door of the toilets and shoved him inside, locking.
Clark stared puzzled at him and then he felt it even though Tony had his back
on him: the rapid sickness and weakness of the Kryptonite. He found support
touching his back on the sink bench and held tightly with both hands.
Tony turned slowly towards the Kryptonian, his eyes bloodshot and his face
disfigured from ire and what Clark could recognize as deep grief. The
billionaire wore a glove glowing with the green Clark hated; he cornered Clark
whose breath was uneven, his stomach squirming with nausea.
“Why?” Clark whispered.
Tony yanked his head.
“Bruce gained the control of LEXLABS to investigate with Lucius what kind of
sick research that scum was doing to destroy you and conquer the world. Some of
Luthor’s toys are very handy, like this…” he showed the glove. “And now I have
no inhibition to do this!”
Tony struck Clark’s nose with the hand wearing the Kryptonite glove using all
the strength his pain and wrath gave him. But he couldn’t enjoy it even when
blood spurt from Clark’s nostrils and he staggered using the bench to not
collapse.
Clark brought his hand to his bleeding nose and looked at Stark confused.
“Are you crazy? What I did?”
Tony clenched his teeth: how dare he…
“You filthy freakin’..!” he raised again his fist and Clark blocked it thanks
to Bruce’s teaching even though his powers quivered.
“Wait, will you? We are in the same side, remember?”
Tony’s eyes flared up and his jaw hurt from the pressure; it was easy to figure
that Bruce had taught Superman that.
“Yes, until you snatched my buddy and hold his dead body!”
Clark’s eyes bulged and he forgot the pain he was feeling.
“No, he’s not dead” he shook his head. “I told Alfred; I inform him regularly
about Bruce’s condition…He didn’ tell you?”
But Tony’s eyes became angrier.
“You’re playing with the poor man’s feelings and torture him with false hopes!
What kind of a monster does that?!” and then Tony lost his control and his
voice cracked. “Why you keep his dead body as a trophy? He loved you, he saved
your life, he forgave everything you did to him…why you don’t let his tortured
spirit rest? Why you torture us…me…?” his shoulders slumped. “I just want to
see him for a last time…”
Clark closed his eyes and bit his lip which immediately bled. He wanted to pat
Tony’s shoulder but he was too weak.
“He isn’t dead, Tony; I swear. I’d never lie to Alfred or…anyone of you…I took
Bruce away because you couldn’t have saved him.”
“The Water of Immortality…”
Clark nodded.
“It helped him a lot but alone wouldn’t suffice…I took him to my…headquarters
and he is alive!”
But Tony’s eyes were still disbelieving.
“Why he never talked to Alfred?”
Clark sighed and lowered his eyes.
“Because he is stable but in a coma…He almost died, Tony but he was revived…Yet
the injuries were too severe…He needs time…but he’ll wake, Tony…and then” his
eyes were wet “I’ll bring him to you.”
Tony closed his eyes and slapped his forehead; this was…He inhaled deeply. He
wanted to be true but he couldn’t fall for that so easily…Because later when
the truth would come out it would sting worse.
“Bring him to us now…”
Clark shook his head rasping.
“He won’t last the transfer…Believe me, Tony: I want the best for him and I’d
never torture you like this.”
“Let me come there then…”
Clark tensed.
“I can’t…I can’t let you…It concerns my planet, it’s not only about me… you
know about secrecy and I’m sure you hardly bring people in your lab.”
“Bruce let you in his cave.”
“And I in my headquarters…Believe me, Tony; as soon as he is in a position to
be moved, as soon as he wakes, I’ll bring him back.”
Tony licked his lips and lowered his eyes thoughtful. Finally, he pulled out
the glove which immediately shrank and placed it in a leaden box which Tony
stashed in his inner pocket.
Clark felt better and drew some air in his screaming lungs; he looked at Tony
who nodded.
“I’m giving you a second chance…BUT if you screw with me…” he stretched his
index finger threateningly “Ironman’s weaponry will be crammed with Kryptonite
ammunition and I’ll find you wherever you hide.”
Clark nodded.
“If I don’t keep my promise it’ll be because Bruce wouldn’t make it…in which
case…you won’t need to search for me” he sighed “I’ll come to your Kryptonite
bullets.”
Tony grunted and turned, he unlocked the door and left.
Clark closed his eyes and slowly turned to the sink to wash his face. When he
returned to the office his colleagues looked startled the marks in his nose
which didn’t vanish yet. Clark looked uncomfortably and shrugged.
“Mr. Stark didn’t like an article I wrote about him. Once.”
But when he saw Lois at his chair with her classic interrogating frown he knew
that she would need something more.
“What he wanted?” she asked. “And why he used Kryptonite?” she whispered – Lois
knew that only with Kryptonite a human could hurt Clark.
He sighed.
“He holds me responsible for Bruce’s condition – he thinks that I did something
wrong during his transfer…and he doesn’t want me near Bruce.”
Clark knew that his story sucked and could see it in Lois’ raised eyebrows as
she stood for him to resume his seat. But he didn’t care: he just wanted to go
back to his Star immediately.
 
Bruce was flying in the night sky but it was the most beautiful night sky he
ever saw: the brilliant colors of aurora chased one another mingling together
and then separating, all of them mesmerizing his eyes – neon blue, neon green,
red, dark pink, golden… And then millions of stars sparkling cheerfully calling
him to join them…
And Bruce was speeding elated that finally he could fly on his own, without
borrowed wings. For finally being one with the sky he so much loved. He was
beaming and his eyes glimmered like stars and his porcelain face clear of
bruises and swellings was so relaxed, so peaceful…
And Clark was trying to reach him speeding as fast as he could but still far;
able to see him, to admire his beauty but not be with him. And the more he saw
Bruce’s joy for flying alone and playing with the sky the more his heart ached
and his guts clentched with the feeling of losing him – oh…he was really
satisfied for his Star’s happiness but his insides were wrenched…because he was
losing him and he wouldn’t come back to him because his Star was a fascinating
proud, free spirit that always wanted to fly with his own wings…because he was
one of sky’s proud beings …
Like both his distant ancestors: Nemesis and Lilith had their own wings…
An excruciating pang stabbed his heart and he saw Bagdana’s sad eyes.
“Now you understand, foolish alien…” he told him accusingly.
And Clark felt the pain of the demon when his mate, his beloved Lilith was lost
forever becoming one with the sky and the stars…and he realized that his pain
was the same with the demon’s and Clark didn’t want all these having the same
sad end as Bagdana and Lilith.
He gritted his teeth and sped so fast that his muscles all over his body
actually pained; he needed to catch up with Bruce. And the human as if sensing
him slowed down.
And now Clark was face to face with him, Bruce completely naked, completely
free from everything; his porcelain, divine body glowing, his beautiful wings
still transparent. The younger man smiled to him wanting to share his joy with
Clark.
“You told me that you loved flying with me…” Clark smiled bitterly and he saw a
shadow in Bruce’s happy eyes.
“It’s my second favorite!” he replied playfully.
“Your first?”
“Flying with my own wings…I’m so sorry, my sun…” his voice was sympathetic “but
I’m a creature of the darkness” his voice lost its cheerfulness “an extinct
star…”
Clark’s eyes bulged and sweat spurt all over his body – cold sweat.
“No!”
But Bruce pressed his lips, stretched his hand and caressed his cheek giving
him a deep kiss in the lips. And then sped away, his intoxicating perfume
lingering in Clark’s lips and nostrils.
And Clark stretched his hand to catch but Bruce was gone; and then ran unable
to approach him; his heart pounding so violently that his ribs pained. And then
he saw two people emerging: a young beautiful couple with a striking
resemblance to Bruce. They were beaming and Bruce was beaming too.
“No!” Clark shouted and the glaciers he fixed the morning after he saved Bruce
shattered.
But Bruce turned calmly and looked at him sorrowful and regretful cuddling
something in his arms. And Clark could see that his Star was holding close to
his heart his kitten – the kitten he so much loved…
Clark’s eyes filled with tears.
“No, Bruce, please…”
Clark’s eyes burst open, his breath asthmatic; for some seconds he didn’t know
were he was but the vibrating pale blue reminded him he was in the medical
chamber one more night at Bruce’s side – a month had already passed…
Wait! Pale blue light?! No! The medical chamber was all these days illuminated
by the Black Butterfly’s spectrum and now the impressive multicolored light was
gone; the gem sparkling on Bruce’s chest.
But then he realized that Bruce’s heartbeat and the raspiration were different,
were…
“You saved my life…”
Clark raised his shocked, confused eyes and saw Bruce’s calm stare on him. He
rubbed his eyes because he was sure it was a tormenting dream.
Bruce chuckled.
“You fought to save me and now you don’t believe your eyes?” his voice was
husky and tired.
“I…” he didn’t have a word to utter so he obeyed his whim and kissed softly
Bruce’s lips.
“Mmmm…Nice welcome…” he closed his eyes tired and kept them closed breathing
controlled because his injured lung was still malfunctioning the Fortress and
the diamond supporting it.
“Are you in pain?” Clark asked jolting from his chair and caressing his face.
“Jor El said that the Fortress eliminated most of the pain but not all of it.”
Bruce frowned without opening his eyes.
“Really?” he pouted. “Someone can call it pain but…it’s…” he was feeling some
pangs but in comparison with the pains he underwent all these years was more
than tolerable. “It’s nothing, Clark.”
He opened his eyes and met Clark’s anxious eyes.
“I can’t feel anything from the neck and down” his eyes searched Clark’s. “My
sp… is totally…?’’ it was impossible to find the words.
Clark held his hand.
“But you feel my touch, right?”
Bruce nodded.
“Jor El blocked most of the receptors of your mind to spare you from the pain
but…”
“The damage was severe…My lower…” once again the word slipped and that
frustrated him.
“It’s okay…” Clark whispered.
“I won’t walk ever again, right?” his eyes were filled with strength and
demanding an honest answer.
Clark licked his lips; he hoped that this discussion would come later. But he
couldn’t lie to his brave Star.
“Jor El removed the bullet from your waist” he saw confusion in his stare “but
the damage is severe” he didn’t use the terms Jor El used because he knew that
at the moment it was difficult for Bruce who prompted him to continue with his
eyes. “You won’t be able to walk but” he hastened to add “it won’t be forever –
with physiotherapy and your company’s bionic body parts’ tech…it’ll take
time…and effort…but you’ll make it and I…all of us will help you…” Clark had
thought everything all these days.
Bruce wasn’t surprised neither devastated from the news. Even in his current
confused state he was aware that his body was too injured even before the
building’s collapse which he still couldn’t remember clearly.
“I remember…though everything is clouded…”
Clark nuzzled his cheek.
“It’s okay, don’t press yourself: your memory will recover slowly. Be patient.”
Bruce inhaled deeply closing his eyes.
“Is everyone alright?” he asked calmly but Clark felt his inner agony.
“Yes, you saved them” he answered pressing his lips.
Bruce opened his eyes.
“And you saved me… Thank you…I remember the sky and your eyes tearful…your
cry…” his eyebrows were frowned.
“Actually, Jor El did it and the Black Butterfly…” Bruce looked puzzled at the
diamond placed on his heart emanating sparkls of every color. “And you…if you
hadn’t fought nothing could have saved you.”
Bruce shook slowly his head.
“You’ve got so much to tell me…”
Clark caressed his locks and nodded.
“Everything you want, Star. But you must promise me that you won’t do it again…
you won’t put yourself in danger.”
“There was nothing else to be done, Clark; you know that” his memory was foggy
but he knew that. “If I hadn’t gone there, he’d have killed them…” he closed
his eyes again tired.
Clark looked at him worried and kissed him.
“I know, babe; but I almost lost you and…and you scared me…”
Bruce’s mouth trembled and formed a smile without opening his eyes.
“The Man of Steel isn’t scared of anything…”
Clark kissed Bruce’s cheek still trying to affirm that he was indeed back.
“There’s one thing that petrifies Superman; one thing that could destroy him”
he closed his eyes relishing the feeling of Bruce’s soft flesh. “Losing his
Star and being alone searching eternally for him and never finding him.”
Bruce opened his eyes with a gasp: he remembered the demon and his deep,
searing pain – he didn’t want the same for Clark.
“Don’t say that – you, Clark, won’t ever be alone” his voice was filled with
agony. “There are so many people who love you – people will always love you.”
Clark’s fingertips caressed Bruce’s lips.
“But nobody is like you…my Star…If I had lost you…”
Bruce’s mangled body tensed and his eyes sparkled and Clark looked at him
feeling that flow of energy.
“Promise me that whatever happens to me you won’t change” he was in agony but
his voice was steady in determination. “World needs you.”
“World needs you as well so you should take care of yourself and I’ll be fine.”
“But I’m human, Clark; and humans d…” Clark touched his fingertips to his mouth
and then kissed him.
“Promise me, Clark” Bruce turned his head unlocking their lips and looked with
narrowed eyes at Superman who sighed.
“I promise you that I’ll always protect people…”
“And be happy?”
Clark cupped his face with both hands and locked their eyes.
“Who can promise that, you bossy spoiled brat?” Bruce smiled. “And all that
before Alfred and the others begin spoiling you…”
Bruce’s heart was twisted; he could feel their agony. He remembered Leslie’s
despair, Alfred’s tired eyes, Selina’s refusal to leave, Tony’s pain…
“You’ll see them soon” Clark said soothing and nibbled his ear.
Bruce chuckled, his peacefully exhausted body - or it was his mind? - feeling
what felt only with Clark: he had missed his touch.
“I missed you, Clark…” he sighed and wanted to writhe under the larger man but
he could only touch his lips to Clark’s.
“I missed you too, Bruce…” it was ridiculous and selfish his body to be aroused
when he knew that Bruce was in such delicate state; so he berated and
restrained himself.
“Once you told me that after all these I’ll rest with you cuddling me…”
Clark rubbed softly his face to Bruce’s and chuckled.
“You remember that, huh?”
Bruce kissed the tip of Clark’s nose, sorry that his state didn’t permit him to
do more.
“You wanted to break your promise, boyscout?”
Clark raised his head and looked Bruce affronted.
“A boyscout never breaks his promise!”
“Prove it then!” Bruce challenged him and the Fortress reading Clark’s wish
doubled the medical bay for him to spoon Bruce who relaxed in Clark’s hands
that wrapped softly, gingerly his sensitive body.
Clark knew how to restrain his strength to not traumatize his Star: he was
afraid for Bruce’s injuries and for moving the diamond. Bruce looked around him
frowning.
“Jor El? Fortress?” he recalled the words Clark mentioned. “You brought me to
your headquarters?”
Clark chuckled: always the detective.
 
Bruce had his eyes closed and moaned with pleasure. The medical bay was turned
into a massage bed and he was laid on his stomach with Clark’s magical fingers
massaging his gluteals after they had run his back tormentingly slow.
Clark was doing that every day while Bruce was in a coma for preventing the
creation of decubitus wounds and keeping the muscles aroused, ready for
reestamblishing their mobility. Jor El taught him the right movements and
pressure.
Bruce smiled and turned his head to Clark who, as Bruce, was completely naked.
“With your ministrations not only my muscles get aroused…” he chuckled. “Which
is cruel: Jor El unblocking some of my sensory receptors, you touching
me…inappropriately…in an inappropriate attire while I won’t get any release” he
fought the urge to smile with Clark’s smug look. “You know, this is called
harassment and sexual torture…and I might sue you…Mmmmmmm…”
Clark’s fingers played piano on his thighs: the Man of Steel was seeing the
faint bruises, scratches and stitches even though the Kryptonian stitches were
almost invisible. And he could see the damage in the cell structure. But he was
happy because all these would be healed…slowly but definitely they would
because his Star was alive. And Clark felt aroused even though his super vision
saw the shattered bones held together by Fortress’ energy slowly mending. He
willed his groin to stop squirming.
“Did you find Talia?” Bruce asked out of the blue; Jor El had told Clark that
Bruce’s retrograde confused memory gradually will clear.
“No; no body, no trace” he stopped massaging for a second, his face filled with
hatred. “I wish Bagdana sent her to Hell!”
Bruce didn’t comment.
“And Ubu? Is he alright?”
Clark remembered that Bruce didn’t know anything about Ubu.
“Talia shot him in the chest but Tony took him to the nearest hospital; he is
now at Leslie’s clinic recovering.”
Bruce closed his eyes relieved.
His fingers trailed softly the calves and the feet, Bruce’s moans and groans
making him sweat and have a raced heartbeat. He wished he could enter his
Star’s body and give him some well deserved pleasure after all this pain. But
it was too soon…
He grasped carefully Bruce’s body and turned him on his back to continue with
the front. The younger man’s eyes were playful and Clark shook his index finger
warningly.
“Stop doing that, Star: I’m trying to do my job here…”
“In this attire?” he cocked an eyebrow staring at Superman’s statue-like naked
body and Clark blushed.
He placed gently his palms on Bruce’s chest muscles and began making circles
softly, tenderly, perfectly and Bruce closed his eyes, his eyelashes trembling
making Clark’s heart frantic and his breath rasping.
His Star’s breaths became again moans as his hands ran slowly his abdominals
reaching his ravaged pelvis. Jor El had told him that stimulating that way
Bruce’s body was necessary for keeping his muscles alive, vigilant and ready to
recuperate. Bruce for the time being didn’t need to culminate; he might be
stimulated but the absence of some erection proved that his body wasn’t ready.
And Bruce knew it. So he stopped moaning staring at the crystal pale blue
ceiling that reflected the arctic sky in all his mesmerizing glory. And then
his eyes found a small bat perched there; a bat that stared at him with emerald
eyes and Bruce smiling felt the Black Butterfly glow placed in the cylindrical
nightstand.
“You know” Clark said mistaking his silence for flashbacking. “I know people
that can mend your memory, erasing all the bad memories. For eliminating the
pain.”
Bruce looked at him.
“I hate magic. And erasing my nightmarish past means that I won’t be the man I
am; that I’ll forget all the moments with Selina, her kindness, her love;
Alfred punching Chill; the first time I saw you…I mean Superman.”
Clark stared interested.
“I thought that was that day with Flass – no, no, wrong” he remembered “it was
that night after Falcone’s party at the Manor when I saw Batman for the first
time.”
Bruce smiled and shook his head.
“The first time I saw you it was in Dolcetto’skitchen. Signora Bruna had a
small TV there which played all day. I was 13 and I was mopping the floor when
she whistled uttering some vulgarisms about male…hm…anatomy. The newscaster
however was speaking about a flying young man who saved a woman from a burning
apartment. And then I raised my head forgetting my fear for Bruna and looked at
the shaking footage: it was the most beautiful scene I ever saw in years. The
most beautiful young man in the world holding bridal style a crying woman …For
months I dreamt that I was the one in your arms and the burning building was
Dolcetto…”
Clark swallowed hard; he wished he had saved Bruce then…he wished he had sensed
that a boy were brutally tortured in Gotham and stormed there…
He lowered his eyes regretful and then he felt something that made him startle.
Bruce’s left arm that till now was completely immobile rose slightly and
Bruce’s still healing hand touched his cheek.
“Don’t be sorry; you couldn’t have done anything…You’re here now…you saved my
life.”
Clark couldn’t do anything else to release his emotions than capture Bruce’s
lips and kiss him desperately, caressing his silken locks that reflected the
stars’ shine.
 
Alfred was agitated, pacing to the back drawning room of the Manor under
Leslie’s amuzed eyes.
“You’ll need to change the floor if you continue like this…” she rose from her
armchair and walked to him grinning. “He is coming and he is alive, Alfred” she
widened her eyes and patted him.
“You’re not anxious?” he asked a bit upset, a token of his emotional turmoil
and Leslie nodded.
“Of course I am; that forty days were torturous and the fact you told me that
Bruce hadn’t died made my nervousness peak…not knowing how our boy is…if he
lasted till the end…Ugh! I want to punch that Superman!”
Tony would have agreed if he was able to listen to anything in his
surroundings: he stood with his arms crossed in front of the big rectangular
window watching the horizon for a sign of Superman and Bruce.
Pepper was next to him rubbing his upper arm and whispering to his ear. While
Selina sat numb on the armchair playing with the juice Alfred served her half
an hour ago.
Lucius stood before the fireplace examining an old map of Gotham laid on the
wall. He was very touched when Tony informed him that Superman would bring
Bruce to the Manor and invited him to that very emotional, family moment. As a
matter of fact, all this time after the events at the factory he was asking
constantly about Bruce – he loved that boy and it’d be tragic if he died after
everything he’d been through.
The green light of the security system startled all of them and Selina jerked
from her seat. Tony had set it to locate immediately Superman.
Alfred with speed that was astonishing for a man of his age opened the door
leading to the back garden and his eyes melted seeing Superman landing smoothly
carrying in bridal style his young master who was…looking at him eagerly,
agitated and touched as much as the butler – alive, so much, so incredibly
alive! His eyes crying that he’d jumb from Superman’s arms to reach his second
father faster; if he could.
Everyone crammed in the door but Alfred was already rushing to meet his young
master and Bruce smiled widely to him and his smile made Alfred smile too.
“I’m here, Alfred…”
“Oh, Master Bruce…” he was in a wonder not knowing what to do: there were so
many things he wanted to do but unable to decide stayed numb just relishing his
alive young master and crying shamelessly.
“It’s better to go inside…” Superman said reluctant for disrupting such moment
but he didn’t want anyone seeing them.
Tony who had in the meantime approached nodded and hugged Alfred leading him
gently back inside.
Pepper closed the door as soon as everyone was inside and Superman pressed
something in his insignia and a chair formed before the startled eyes of
everyone. He put Bruce cautiously on the chair and the youth smiled to him
whispering his thanks.
It was a shock though everyone knew that Bruce’s body was already battered when
the building collapsed on him. But still realizing that he was paralyzed…and on
a wheelchair was devastating. No, it wasn’t a wheelchair: it was a throne: a
plain chair from dazzling white crystal solid but upon hugging Bruce’s body in
perfect harmony with his anatomy, turned into a soft, dreamy cloud, flowing
with Bruce's every slight movement because he still wasn't able to move
normally. The medium-backed chair didn't have wheels, its lower part had
formations perfectly suited with Bruce's healing legs, vibrating smoothly to
not let the muscles succumb to inertia and urging the mangled neurons if
possible to wake. The chair didn't touch the ground but floated, moving with
Bruce's.
Alfred was the first to overcome the shock because for him the only thing that
mattered was that Master Bruce was alive and beaming; everything else they
could fight; they could overcome. He rushed to the chair and kneeled to cup his
boy’s face.
“I’m sorry, Alfred” Bruce said to him defeated by the man’s love and agony. “I
didn’t want to make you suffer…again” he looked around the room “anyone of you.
But I had to do it…”
Alfred buried Bruce’s head to his chest.
“Sssss, Master Bruce…The only thing that matters is that you’re here…” emotion
choked his voice.
Tony overcoming his numbness rushed there and hugged his friend.
“Don’t worry, little guy: we’ll fix everything! I’ll make a new better spine
for you and you’ll be kicking asses again in no time…” his voice was too hoarse
that hardly made sense.
Bruce looked at his friend’s touched eyes and pressed his lips.
“Thank you, Tony…I missed you so much!” he held his friend’s neck with his left
hand because the right needed more time.
Leslie walked slowly to him scowling.
“You know you’re a spoiled brat in need for spanking?”
Bruce grinned and nodded; Alfred and Tony stood to let the doctor hug him and
tousle his locks.
“You’re in very good shape and your weight is almost normal” she made her
diagnosis instantly. “Someone took really good care of you…” she mumbled
winking and Bruce looked at Clark who stood in the corner with crossed arms and
watched beaming.
“Mister Wayne, I’m really happy to see you again and I assure you that soon our
bionic technology would be able to restore major spine injuries too. Also, Mr.
Fredericks sends you his greetings and best wishes.”
“You’re great, Lucius, all of you…thank you.”
“No need, Mister Wayne, no need; just come back to us” he raised his eyebrows
and patted the youth’s shoulder looking interested at the glowing chair.
Pepper unable to hold her joy rushed to Bruce and hugged him.
“Thank Goodness, Bruce…”
Bruce rubbed her upper arm.
“Tony was in good hands all this time…Thank you, my dear.”
Pepper wipped her eyes and stood, walking to Tony’s waiting arms.
Bruce raised his eyes to Selina who just stood and stared without approaching.
He sighed.
“I’m so sorry, Selina; I know I’m a scum, a dirtbag for what I made you
suffer…” he lowered his eyes. “You’re a great girl and I’m always taking
advantage of your love… I know I don’t deserve you, my brave, precious girl…”
But he gasped when two rushing hands wrapped him squeezing him to a trembling
chest, tear-soaked soft cheeks touching his; shaking lips kissing his face.
“I had promised myself to punch you the moment I’d see you again but…” her
voice cracked. “But I’m so happy you came back to me that…that I can’t hold you
a grudge…”
Bruce locked their eyes together.
“You’re my angel, Sel…”
“Ugh! You have me tied in your pinky, kiddo!” she nestled her head to his neck
and cried.
Clark shook his head: you’re not the only one, Selina…
 
Harvey Dent was staring at Joker who sat on his bed inside Tony’s special cell
at his new ‘home’: Arkham Asylum. The young DA’s eyes glimmered but Joker’s
were dark and emotionless – the jester had lost his humor when he heard the
rumors about Batman’s death.
“You lost” Harvey said.
“But you’re kicked out of your position…”
Harvey snorted.
“No, I resigned and I’m leaving happy because you’re where you belong and you
won’t hurt anyone else ever again… Batman is alive despite your effort to kill
him…”
Joker cocked an eyebrow; he didn’t want to kill Batman and he didn’t buy the
misty appearance of ‘a Batman’. He had seen it again…
“And Bruce?” the madman was staring at Harvey lopsidedly.
Harvey was surprised by the use of Bruce’s proper name and not a petname.
“You won’t get near him again.”
“So he is alright?” he asked and his eyes searching slyly found the answer
which brought a wicked smile to his clean face. “Then I won!”
Harvey pouted his lips in disgust and turned to leave but Joker’s laugh stopped
him.
“HA.HA.HA.HA…And you’re going to your sweet Rach-girlfriend and your daddy to
live happily ever after, huh?”
Harvey felt a shiver running his spine but stretched his posture and continued.
Rachel and his father were waiting for him at Toronto; he barely persuaded them
to not return in Gotham. They craved to see Bruce after everything they heard
about his captivity and long coma. However they didn’t insist when Harvey told
them that Bruce was in a rehab center in Malibu, only his loved ones allowed
there.
“Dr. Quinzel” Harvey called the young psychiatrist who approached, her long
curly blond hair waving on her white medical robe. “I’m done; he’s all yours…”
But then something clanged several times on the floor approaching him and
Harvey looked down to see a burnt coin with a head on it.
He frowned and looked at Joker who winked and saluted him in military style.
“It’s yours, buddy; you’ll need it to make proper decisions in the future…
Seeeee ya sooooon…
Harvey curious took it: it was a coin with two identical sides.
Joker burst in his hysterical laugh as the DA threw the coin in his pants’
pocket and Harvey almost ran out of the corridor as Dr. Quinzel approached her
patient.
Joker’s laughter was haunting him as he bid goodbye to Jim Gordon and his
former assistant Robby who temporarily took his place; and then during his
entire flight but as soon as he saw Rachel and his father and sank in their
hugs, everything bad vanished from his mind, even the coin that was stashed
safely in his pocket.
 
Superman was rushing to enter from the opened cone of the Fortress; he hardly
endured the hours in Planet and now he couldn’t wait to hold Bruce in his arms.
Bruce decided to stay a bit more at the Fortress and everyone even Tony agreed:
he still needed Fortress’ energy.
Darkness slowly fell to the Arctic.
He knew where Bruce would be: he floated there silently; he had to fight his
eagerness today.
“You are surprisingly good at this, Bruce” he heard Jor El’s serious voice and
he saw with his super vision the Kryptonian’s hologram in a big cylindrical
crystal and Bruce in his chair. Between them the holographic Kryptonian chess-
like game. “My son was right about your remarkable intelligence.”
Bruce’s Pawn moved in the board; in this game everything was happening with
mind’s power.
“Thank you, Jor El; your praise is very flattering. Alfred taught me chess
since I was really young and this game is similar but more challenging.”
Clark grinned and headed to his destination, happy that his father didn’t
reveal his presence probably aware that Clark wanted to stay unnoticed.
When he returned there Bruce was gone and Jor El informed him that he was on
his favorite place.
Indeed. Bruce’s throne-like chair floated over the pointy shaped balcony the
Fortress created because Bruce thought it when he first saw the view from
there. It was hovering over the great glacier the Fortress was built on and
expanded giving the sense of flying at the arctic sparkling sky.
Bruce was intensely gazing at the endless horizon deep in thought about what
happened and making plans about what was lying ahead. About his loved ones and
how much he hurt them. And then…What was this sound? His heart jolted
enthralled hearing it again and he overcame his shock to turn and look with
widened eyes.
Clark was beaming holding in his broad chest a small fluffy creature. A meowing
kitten: a kitten barely over a month old, white with a big black horizontal V
in his back, grey fur at his ears and top of his head, a pink nose with a
smudge of light brown at the right of his nose. The kitten, the kitten he knew
so well was staring at him and meowing.
Clark came to him and placed the kitten on Bruce’s lap; the animal immediately
staring eagerly at the young man. Bruce pressed his lips, his hand hovering
over the kitten’s head unable to overcome his emotion and pet him. But the
kitten stretched his little head and rubbed it on Bruce’s palm urging him to
caress him; and Bruce obliged.
“Hero, you came back to me?” he asked with shaking voice.
The animal locked eyes with him and began purring and Bruce though he knew he
wasn’t his Hero glued the animal to his chest his right arm moving slightly for
the first time. He touched his chin to the kitten’s head.
Clark felt his heart beating heavily.
“I found him near a dustbin alone, crying; he was cold and starving and…” he
cocked his eyebrows “he told me that he wanted a home and a good friend to warm
him…”
Bruce raised his eyes; he knew that Clark didn’t bring the kitten at random.
“How you knew?”
Clark blushed.
“I had…eavesdropped when Selina told Hero’s story to Tony and one day I saw the
painting she made. So when I saw him…” he shrugged.
Bruce gestured to him.
“Come here…”
Clark immediately crouched beside him and his Star captured his lips in a deep,
passionate, sweet kiss under the kitten’s happy purring.
“How can I thank you enough for this and all the wonders you brought to my
life?” Bruce’s eyes were warm and happy and Clark felt like drowning in a sea
of bliss.
“Staying always with me and being happy…” he sighed and deepened the kiss as
the bright colors of aurora lighted the arctic sky; their eyes locked together
and their hands petting together Hero’s soft, rich fur.
 
 
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