Chronology
Jul. 23rd, 2006 03:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shankieWally and the older Bart find a more recent kind of future, while in the present Bruce is unravelling mysteries in the midst of visiting... and being visited... by our boy from Metropolis.
Chapter Six: Ancestry
The 22nd Century
"Well this is... familiar." Wally pointed at the sleek, gleaming city before them. "Are we back in your time?"
"I don't... no. Hm." Bart looked around and scratched his head. "Looks like near future. Well, to me. Don't go near-future if I can help it."
Wally was about to ask why, then realized he already knew the answer.
"So, we're in Gotham again."
"Uh-huh."
"Why are we here again?"
Bart made a little running legs sign with his fingers.
"Oh, right."
"Could you try and track him, if he's still here?" Bart asked.
"I, uah... I can do that?"
"Not yet, I guess." Bart raised an eyebrow and looked up at the darkening sky. "Well, we are in Gotham."
"Right."
"So, if this really is near-future, there's a Bat around."
"I would imagine."
"So we should find said Bat and see about the status of their tech. Could be helpful."
"Bats usually are," Wally said with a nod. "Think they're out yet?"
Bart shrugged.
"It's not dark yet, but we could, you know, go to Wayne Manor."
"Do you have any idea who's living there?"
"I have a few guesses."
"Good enough."
* * *
The present
"I wish you'd stop trying to fix me, Clark." Bruce sat on the edge of the bed in Clark's apartment, the edge of the white sheet covering his bare lap.
He suddenly understood why Wally smoked sometimes, and found himself craving... something.
"I think you need fixing," Clark said, shifting on his side closer and stroked Bruce's side gently. It didn't tickle.
"We've been over this."
"So let's go over it again."
Bruce got up and pulled his pants on, jerking his zipper up with a terse motion, and finished dressing with the same kind of methodical haste. He felt sore and raw, and the twinge of a deep bruise on his hip as he leaned down to tie his shoes.
He threw his coat over his arm and looked down at Clark, still naked, leaning back on the pillow with a concerned frown.
"Call me when you're not going to try and play therapist."
Clark didn't respond, and Bruce just strode out, throwing on his coat and adjusting the collar with a snap. 'How long am I going to keep doing this?' The doorman gave him a nod and held the door; he slipped him a fifty as he walked by.
The man was getting what he wanted. Bruce didn't see how anything else was his concern.
He looked up at the snow falling gently, a few cold flakes landing on his skin and instantly melting into little beads rolling down his face. Bruce shoved his hands in the pockets of the overcoat and unhurriedly walked down the mostly-deserted sidewalk.
If he called the driver, he'd be there to pick him up in moments. But for now, he walked to the park a few blocks from Clark's apartment and sat on a park bench just out of the circle of light cast by a street lamp, staring at a fountain drowning in snow and ice. He caught a glimmer of light shining in an icicle hanging down off a frozen arch, with that same familiar sweeping line so common in Metropolis.
He sat there a while, and contemplated how to go about redesigning the soles of Wally's boots to have better traction on ice, then about nothing at all.
When Bruce got up, he had to shake a layer of snow out of his hair, that caught in his eyelashes and tumbled like glitter down to the beaten, hard path. He called his driver, and walked back towards the street, listening to ice crunch beneath his feet.
* * *
The 22nd century
Wally felt terribly uncomfortable ringing the doorbell outside the gates of the manor, with Bart shifting around next to him. The keypad said "West, V. R." in brass letters, which made him frown curiously until the gates clicked with the opening of an electronic lock and slowly swung open.
They didn't creak, just made a soft swishing noise that Wally suddenly found a little... creepy.
The front door was already open when they got there, with a tall woman with black hair and sharp blue eyes waiting expectantly. She was wearing a red satin robe that fell to her ankles, cinched tight around her waist, and Wally couldn't help but notice she was wearing black books underneath. Huh.
She didn't say anything, just crossed her ams and continued looking at them.
"Uhm..." Wally started, "I'm, uh, the Flash. From the 21st century. And this is... the Flash. From... later in the 21st century," he said, feeling entirely awkward. "We're, uh, looking for someone."
He was pretty sure she was going to slam the door in his face, when she just smirked, and let them in.
* * *
The present
"B to N, north up 93 and Usher in pursuit, head off at next junction." Bruce flew over the gap of an alley and hit the next rooftop at a silent run, low and determined.
"In position, target sighted."
He looked up, and saw a flash of blue from a shadow as Dick leapt onto the edge of the building in a crouch, ready to spring. The target, a pornographer that had just graduated into kidnapping and drug trafficking, was still looking behind him down the street, and never saw it when Nightwing landed behind him and swung out a kick that disarmed the Glock from his right hand, spinning as he began to turn his head, and then took him down with a swift punch.
Dick brushed his hands together and stood over the unconscious man, looking up at Bruce as he jumped down to the street.
"So, is this a social call?" Dick said, kneeling down to restrain the meaty hands deftly. "You didn't actually need any help with those guys, bunch of amateurs."
Bruce hadn't seen Dick since his last call for an assist, over a week ago. It wasn't surprising he thought Bruce would need an excuse to talk to him, since he was essentially correct.
"I have a lead on Ivy. I'll be in touch," Bruce said as he shot off a grapple. "And... I've scheduled for the 16th."
Dick looked up with a quick flash of confusion, then understanding.
"I'll be there," he replied. "Need to call this in, but..."
Bruce swung away into the sky, and wondered if they'd be able to lock her up for as long as it was taking to catch her this time.
* * *
The 22nd century
Wally wondered if the manor ever changed.
With the exception of different rugs... a few different furnishings here and there... Wayne Manor was exactly the same. A newspaper in the hall specified exactly where in time they were as they waited for their hostess to return.
Hadn't said a word, other than to tell them to wait up here, even when they'd pulled off their cowls and introduced themselves.
Bart was looking at a painting on the other side of the hall. He peeked over his shoulder at an oil composition of the cliffs behind the manor at sunset, all red skies and silhouetted trees and rocks. It was signed L. R. Richardson, which Wally recognized as a name of an artist who'd done a few paintings already in the manor, occasionally commissioned by Bruce.
He knew that because there was one of Bruce and Dick, all formal and stern, hanging in the library, done when Dick was still only eleven. A painting he'd stared at more than a few times.
All this time-travel made it hard to judge how long since he'd woken up on the beach, but it was starting to seem like a very long time. He wanted to get this over with and just go home.
Wally and Bart both looked up as the door opened and shut at speed, by a woman in... his Flash uniform. Or something very close.
"Sorry about Vicky, she's shy around strangers," she said with a grin.
"Don't call me 'Vicky,' Flash," a voice said from behind them, prompting Bart & Wally's gaze to snap in the other direction.
She was smirking, her arms crossed. But what was more... interesting than that... was her costume. Black, all black, with a dull gold utility belt that had a kind of lightning bolt on it... or was that an "S'? She had gauntlets with the same curving blades Bruce's uniform had, and it was all very... futuristic.
"You know you love it."
This... Not-Vicky... arched an eyebrow, then turned to Bart.
"I called the Flash, because obviously whatever has brought you here will be more to her talents. And as interesting as this is, we have our hands full at the moment," she said, her face serious, but not quite as stern as before.
"Well... anything we can do to help?" Wally asked. "I mean, in exchange for a few minutes of your time?"
"Really, just a few minutes," Bart added. "It could be your problem, too."
The women looked at each other, and the Flash shrugged.
"Come with me."
They followed her through the clock and down into the Batcave... that part had changed.
As they reached the bottom of the stone steps, Wally took in how different it looked. So much technology it was creeping up the walls. He was hopelessly distracted by the amazing and mostly unidentifiable objects in the display cases until he almost bumped into another stern figure. Batman.
Batman, with his cowl off, looking at him with a frown and intense green eyes. And red hair. His costume was like that of who he assumed was Shadow at this point, all black with the dull gold belt and a black raised outline of a Bat across his chest, long, sharp blades peeking out from behind the long black cape he was gripping in his fists.
"Ok, I get it. You're Batman, and you," he turned and pointed, "are Shadow. But... who are you?"
"Victor West," Batman said, and stepped forward, extending a hand. "And you're Wally West. It's an honour." Wally shook his hand, more than a little bemused. "My sister is Victoria West. You'll have to forgive her. She doesn't trust anyone."
"Least of all you," she said with an unexpected grin.
Wally suddenly noticed the wall of display cases... old uniforms... had grown significantly, and walked over.
Dick's Robin, Bruce's, next to Nightwing and Tim's Robin, and an orange flamed version of it that he didn't recognize. Then there was the girl he'd met in Bart's time... hers, then Terry's, and another black Shadow-looking costume, for a man, he didn't recognize and another version of Batman, all steel and black, that had taken the cape idea back... and another Robin.
He stopped at the last Robin costume.
"That one was mine," Victor said.
"Why isn't my Shadow costume in here?" Wally asked, turning around.
"Our grandmother once told us about that. She told us many stories about you," Victoria said, "something I think you'll have to learn without us."
Victor and Victoria then looked off to one side with identical frowns, tapping their ears as if listening to radios.
"They offered to help," Victoria said.
"I wouldn't be against it at this point," Victor replied.
"We'll have to make it quick," Bart cut in from his conversation with the other Flash.
"Well, isn't that our specialty?" Wally added with a grin.
* * *
The present
The lead on Ivy began to pan out after a few nights, leading Batman and Nightwing to a fenced-off section of forested land just west of Gotham.
It had been a development project that hit a snag; an old illegal toxic waste dump that was uncovered during construction. A nightmare of poisons and toxins that, so far, had just been contained.
A perfect spot for Ivy to hide.
"We're going to need backup," Bruce said, then immediately regretted it, as a tell-tale flap of a cape behind him revealed Clark floating behind their hiding spot on an overlooking hill. He wasn't in a mood to wait for Robin and Batgirl to take the trip from Gotham proper, anyway.
As he noticed a dark figure approaching the structure in the center fast from the north, Bruce didn't hesitate to signal a move-out as he whispered for Clark to stay back.
It was an unshakeable feeling, knowing that Clark was listening to every nigh-silent creak of his armour, ever breath, every fast heartbeat as he ran through the undergrowth, the mask over his mouth in place and a batarang in his hand.
Unexpected guests meant variables he had yet to assess.
His first impressions of the figure appeared to be right, as he caught sight of a man in a leather jacket and a red mask circling around to the greenhouse half-hazardly built in a clearing.
Variables.
Bruce signaled for Dick to circle in the opposite direction, while he went for a better vantage point to spot Ivy. If their other guest had spotted him, he made no sign of it, so Bruce focused his attentions inside the glass for the moment.
Vines were crawling trellises on the walls, that he had to find gaps in to see; a crop of new plants, and Poison Ivy herself, leaning over a tube on a Bunsen burner. No apparent defenses, which, with her, didn't mean much.
Appearances could be deceiving. And something was very off about this whole situation, something his instinct was screaming at him.
He listened, whispering for Nightwing to fall back. They returned to their vantage point, where Dick gave him a curious look.
"Batman, what's this all about?"
"I'll keep her observation, we'll move another night." Bruce looked up at Clark. "Something I can help you with?"
Dick wasn't an idiot. He felt the body language between them, Bruce could see that much as he discreetly made his exit and took off toward the city on his bike. More things they wouldn't talk about.
"I've never had a ride in the Batmobile," Clark said, his stoic mask slipping.
"Not tonight, Clark," he said quickly, making his way back to the car.
Clark wasn't that easily dissuaded. He hopped right in when Bruce retracted the canopy, leaning over toward the driver's seat as it closed again and they took off.
"I said call."
"I did one better."
"Hn."
"I'm not here to play therapist."
Bruce pulled off down a side-road and parked under a tree in the pitch black, turning off the engine and all the lights. Like a reflex.
Clark took the invitation and crawled over the seat, somehow gracefully maneuvering his wide frame on top of him, lifting him up slightly with his hands under him, pressing their groins together roughly. They both moaned harshly, breathing in each other through desperate kisses.
He was smothered by the unstoppable force.
One hand had begun working it's way down the front of his uniform when a heavy Crack! interrupted, and Clark flew off of him as he opened the canopy.
Bruce regained his composure and scanned the area with his night-vision, but saw nothing in the trees.
"This." Bruce switched on a flashlight to see what Clark was holding; a rocket with the explosives replaced with lead. "I'll try to see where it came from."
Clark was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving Bruce to examine the "gift" more closely. He drove back to the cave quickly, knowing he'd be followed as soon as Superman had scanned the area, and placed the rocket in an explosives-proof hood designed with unknown objects and materials in mind.
He still used caution, as he removed the cracked outer layer, and gently pried the seam of the lead halves inside open.
Someone had fired a hunk of kryptonite, shielded with lead, at the Batmobile. Someone trying to get his attention; or Clark's.
Bruce quickly took the kryptonite and gripped it in his fist, walking over to the vault where his other sample was stored. A retinal scan and a moment later, and it was safely locked away beneath the cave floor.
Variables.
* * *
Victor & Victoria West by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
batfan_sarah
Chapter Six: Ancestry
The 22nd Century
"Well this is... familiar." Wally pointed at the sleek, gleaming city before them. "Are we back in your time?"
"I don't... no. Hm." Bart looked around and scratched his head. "Looks like near future. Well, to me. Don't go near-future if I can help it."
Wally was about to ask why, then realized he already knew the answer.
"So, we're in Gotham again."
"Uh-huh."
"Why are we here again?"
Bart made a little running legs sign with his fingers.
"Oh, right."
"Could you try and track him, if he's still here?" Bart asked.
"I, uah... I can do that?"
"Not yet, I guess." Bart raised an eyebrow and looked up at the darkening sky. "Well, we are in Gotham."
"Right."
"So, if this really is near-future, there's a Bat around."
"I would imagine."
"So we should find said Bat and see about the status of their tech. Could be helpful."
"Bats usually are," Wally said with a nod. "Think they're out yet?"
Bart shrugged.
"It's not dark yet, but we could, you know, go to Wayne Manor."
"Do you have any idea who's living there?"
"I have a few guesses."
"Good enough."
The present
"I wish you'd stop trying to fix me, Clark." Bruce sat on the edge of the bed in Clark's apartment, the edge of the white sheet covering his bare lap.
He suddenly understood why Wally smoked sometimes, and found himself craving... something.
"I think you need fixing," Clark said, shifting on his side closer and stroked Bruce's side gently. It didn't tickle.
"We've been over this."
"So let's go over it again."
Bruce got up and pulled his pants on, jerking his zipper up with a terse motion, and finished dressing with the same kind of methodical haste. He felt sore and raw, and the twinge of a deep bruise on his hip as he leaned down to tie his shoes.
He threw his coat over his arm and looked down at Clark, still naked, leaning back on the pillow with a concerned frown.
"Call me when you're not going to try and play therapist."
Clark didn't respond, and Bruce just strode out, throwing on his coat and adjusting the collar with a snap. 'How long am I going to keep doing this?' The doorman gave him a nod and held the door; he slipped him a fifty as he walked by.
The man was getting what he wanted. Bruce didn't see how anything else was his concern.
He looked up at the snow falling gently, a few cold flakes landing on his skin and instantly melting into little beads rolling down his face. Bruce shoved his hands in the pockets of the overcoat and unhurriedly walked down the mostly-deserted sidewalk.
If he called the driver, he'd be there to pick him up in moments. But for now, he walked to the park a few blocks from Clark's apartment and sat on a park bench just out of the circle of light cast by a street lamp, staring at a fountain drowning in snow and ice. He caught a glimmer of light shining in an icicle hanging down off a frozen arch, with that same familiar sweeping line so common in Metropolis.
He sat there a while, and contemplated how to go about redesigning the soles of Wally's boots to have better traction on ice, then about nothing at all.
When Bruce got up, he had to shake a layer of snow out of his hair, that caught in his eyelashes and tumbled like glitter down to the beaten, hard path. He called his driver, and walked back towards the street, listening to ice crunch beneath his feet.
The 22nd century
Wally felt terribly uncomfortable ringing the doorbell outside the gates of the manor, with Bart shifting around next to him. The keypad said "West, V. R." in brass letters, which made him frown curiously until the gates clicked with the opening of an electronic lock and slowly swung open.
They didn't creak, just made a soft swishing noise that Wally suddenly found a little... creepy.
The front door was already open when they got there, with a tall woman with black hair and sharp blue eyes waiting expectantly. She was wearing a red satin robe that fell to her ankles, cinched tight around her waist, and Wally couldn't help but notice she was wearing black books underneath. Huh.
She didn't say anything, just crossed her ams and continued looking at them.
"Uhm..." Wally started, "I'm, uh, the Flash. From the 21st century. And this is... the Flash. From... later in the 21st century," he said, feeling entirely awkward. "We're, uh, looking for someone."
He was pretty sure she was going to slam the door in his face, when she just smirked, and let them in.
The present
"B to N, north up 93 and Usher in pursuit, head off at next junction." Bruce flew over the gap of an alley and hit the next rooftop at a silent run, low and determined.
"In position, target sighted."
He looked up, and saw a flash of blue from a shadow as Dick leapt onto the edge of the building in a crouch, ready to spring. The target, a pornographer that had just graduated into kidnapping and drug trafficking, was still looking behind him down the street, and never saw it when Nightwing landed behind him and swung out a kick that disarmed the Glock from his right hand, spinning as he began to turn his head, and then took him down with a swift punch.
Dick brushed his hands together and stood over the unconscious man, looking up at Bruce as he jumped down to the street.
"So, is this a social call?" Dick said, kneeling down to restrain the meaty hands deftly. "You didn't actually need any help with those guys, bunch of amateurs."
Bruce hadn't seen Dick since his last call for an assist, over a week ago. It wasn't surprising he thought Bruce would need an excuse to talk to him, since he was essentially correct.
"I have a lead on Ivy. I'll be in touch," Bruce said as he shot off a grapple. "And... I've scheduled for the 16th."
Dick looked up with a quick flash of confusion, then understanding.
"I'll be there," he replied. "Need to call this in, but..."
Bruce swung away into the sky, and wondered if they'd be able to lock her up for as long as it was taking to catch her this time.
The 22nd century
Wally wondered if the manor ever changed.
With the exception of different rugs... a few different furnishings here and there... Wayne Manor was exactly the same. A newspaper in the hall specified exactly where in time they were as they waited for their hostess to return.
Hadn't said a word, other than to tell them to wait up here, even when they'd pulled off their cowls and introduced themselves.
Bart was looking at a painting on the other side of the hall. He peeked over his shoulder at an oil composition of the cliffs behind the manor at sunset, all red skies and silhouetted trees and rocks. It was signed L. R. Richardson, which Wally recognized as a name of an artist who'd done a few paintings already in the manor, occasionally commissioned by Bruce.
He knew that because there was one of Bruce and Dick, all formal and stern, hanging in the library, done when Dick was still only eleven. A painting he'd stared at more than a few times.
All this time-travel made it hard to judge how long since he'd woken up on the beach, but it was starting to seem like a very long time. He wanted to get this over with and just go home.
Wally and Bart both looked up as the door opened and shut at speed, by a woman in... his Flash uniform. Or something very close.
"Sorry about Vicky, she's shy around strangers," she said with a grin.
"Don't call me 'Vicky,' Flash," a voice said from behind them, prompting Bart & Wally's gaze to snap in the other direction.
She was smirking, her arms crossed. But what was more... interesting than that... was her costume. Black, all black, with a dull gold utility belt that had a kind of lightning bolt on it... or was that an "S'? She had gauntlets with the same curving blades Bruce's uniform had, and it was all very... futuristic.
"You know you love it."
This... Not-Vicky... arched an eyebrow, then turned to Bart.
"I called the Flash, because obviously whatever has brought you here will be more to her talents. And as interesting as this is, we have our hands full at the moment," she said, her face serious, but not quite as stern as before.
"Well... anything we can do to help?" Wally asked. "I mean, in exchange for a few minutes of your time?"
"Really, just a few minutes," Bart added. "It could be your problem, too."
The women looked at each other, and the Flash shrugged.
"Come with me."
They followed her through the clock and down into the Batcave... that part had changed.
As they reached the bottom of the stone steps, Wally took in how different it looked. So much technology it was creeping up the walls. He was hopelessly distracted by the amazing and mostly unidentifiable objects in the display cases until he almost bumped into another stern figure. Batman.
Batman, with his cowl off, looking at him with a frown and intense green eyes. And red hair. His costume was like that of who he assumed was Shadow at this point, all black with the dull gold belt and a black raised outline of a Bat across his chest, long, sharp blades peeking out from behind the long black cape he was gripping in his fists.
"Ok, I get it. You're Batman, and you," he turned and pointed, "are Shadow. But... who are you?"
"Victor West," Batman said, and stepped forward, extending a hand. "And you're Wally West. It's an honour." Wally shook his hand, more than a little bemused. "My sister is Victoria West. You'll have to forgive her. She doesn't trust anyone."
"Least of all you," she said with an unexpected grin.
Wally suddenly noticed the wall of display cases... old uniforms... had grown significantly, and walked over.
Dick's Robin, Bruce's, next to Nightwing and Tim's Robin, and an orange flamed version of it that he didn't recognize. Then there was the girl he'd met in Bart's time... hers, then Terry's, and another black Shadow-looking costume, for a man, he didn't recognize and another version of Batman, all steel and black, that had taken the cape idea back... and another Robin.
He stopped at the last Robin costume.
"That one was mine," Victor said.
"Why isn't my Shadow costume in here?" Wally asked, turning around.
"Our grandmother once told us about that. She told us many stories about you," Victoria said, "something I think you'll have to learn without us."
Victor and Victoria then looked off to one side with identical frowns, tapping their ears as if listening to radios.
"They offered to help," Victoria said.
"I wouldn't be against it at this point," Victor replied.
"We'll have to make it quick," Bart cut in from his conversation with the other Flash.
"Well, isn't that our specialty?" Wally added with a grin.
The present
The lead on Ivy began to pan out after a few nights, leading Batman and Nightwing to a fenced-off section of forested land just west of Gotham.
It had been a development project that hit a snag; an old illegal toxic waste dump that was uncovered during construction. A nightmare of poisons and toxins that, so far, had just been contained.
A perfect spot for Ivy to hide.
"We're going to need backup," Bruce said, then immediately regretted it, as a tell-tale flap of a cape behind him revealed Clark floating behind their hiding spot on an overlooking hill. He wasn't in a mood to wait for Robin and Batgirl to take the trip from Gotham proper, anyway.
As he noticed a dark figure approaching the structure in the center fast from the north, Bruce didn't hesitate to signal a move-out as he whispered for Clark to stay back.
It was an unshakeable feeling, knowing that Clark was listening to every nigh-silent creak of his armour, ever breath, every fast heartbeat as he ran through the undergrowth, the mask over his mouth in place and a batarang in his hand.
Unexpected guests meant variables he had yet to assess.
His first impressions of the figure appeared to be right, as he caught sight of a man in a leather jacket and a red mask circling around to the greenhouse half-hazardly built in a clearing.
Variables.
Bruce signaled for Dick to circle in the opposite direction, while he went for a better vantage point to spot Ivy. If their other guest had spotted him, he made no sign of it, so Bruce focused his attentions inside the glass for the moment.
Vines were crawling trellises on the walls, that he had to find gaps in to see; a crop of new plants, and Poison Ivy herself, leaning over a tube on a Bunsen burner. No apparent defenses, which, with her, didn't mean much.
Appearances could be deceiving. And something was very off about this whole situation, something his instinct was screaming at him.
He listened, whispering for Nightwing to fall back. They returned to their vantage point, where Dick gave him a curious look.
"Batman, what's this all about?"
"I'll keep her observation, we'll move another night." Bruce looked up at Clark. "Something I can help you with?"
Dick wasn't an idiot. He felt the body language between them, Bruce could see that much as he discreetly made his exit and took off toward the city on his bike. More things they wouldn't talk about.
"I've never had a ride in the Batmobile," Clark said, his stoic mask slipping.
"Not tonight, Clark," he said quickly, making his way back to the car.
Clark wasn't that easily dissuaded. He hopped right in when Bruce retracted the canopy, leaning over toward the driver's seat as it closed again and they took off.
"I said call."
"I did one better."
"Hn."
"I'm not here to play therapist."
Bruce pulled off down a side-road and parked under a tree in the pitch black, turning off the engine and all the lights. Like a reflex.
Clark took the invitation and crawled over the seat, somehow gracefully maneuvering his wide frame on top of him, lifting him up slightly with his hands under him, pressing their groins together roughly. They both moaned harshly, breathing in each other through desperate kisses.
He was smothered by the unstoppable force.
One hand had begun working it's way down the front of his uniform when a heavy Crack! interrupted, and Clark flew off of him as he opened the canopy.
Bruce regained his composure and scanned the area with his night-vision, but saw nothing in the trees.
"This." Bruce switched on a flashlight to see what Clark was holding; a rocket with the explosives replaced with lead. "I'll try to see where it came from."
Clark was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving Bruce to examine the "gift" more closely. He drove back to the cave quickly, knowing he'd be followed as soon as Superman had scanned the area, and placed the rocket in an explosives-proof hood designed with unknown objects and materials in mind.
He still used caution, as he removed the cracked outer layer, and gently pried the seam of the lead halves inside open.
Someone had fired a hunk of kryptonite, shielded with lead, at the Batmobile. Someone trying to get his attention; or Clark's.
Bruce quickly took the kryptonite and gripped it in his fist, walking over to the vault where his other sample was stored. A retinal scan and a moment later, and it was safely locked away beneath the cave floor.
Variables.
Victor & Victoria West by
batfan_sarah
no subject
on 2006-07-23 08:30 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-07-23 08:31 pm (UTC)Thank you. ;)
no subject
on 2006-07-23 08:31 pm (UTC)This story makes me more and more confused. Still like it though.
no subject
on 2006-07-23 08:38 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-07-24 01:27 am (UTC)no subject
on 2006-07-24 03:00 am (UTC)Sure glad it's working out. :D
no subject
on 2006-07-24 02:28 am (UTC)And Wally needs to smack a Kent, but...somehow not break his hand. AND! I love Victoria and Victor, like, a lot.
no subject
on 2006-07-24 03:03 am (UTC)The Wally pwnage will happen, believe you me. ::laughs::
no subject
on 2006-07-24 07:16 am (UTC)Also, Clark, keep yo' hands to yo' self. Seriously.
no subject
on 2006-07-25 12:38 am (UTC)And yeah. Clark. Heh. He's a very bad Superman. And he needs to be... punished. heh.
no subject
on 2006-07-24 08:09 am (UTC)So, despite all the planning we did *together* on this thing, you still managed to surprise me a few times, and you executed it all beautifully.
I can't *wiat* for more. Partly because I sorta kinda alomst know what will happen. And partly because really, I totally don't.
Wheeeeee!
no subject
on 2006-07-25 12:39 am (UTC)no subject
on 2006-07-25 12:54 am (UTC)no subject
on 2006-07-25 02:31 am (UTC)no subject
on 2006-07-25 10:18 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-07-25 03:39 am (UTC)Look forward to seeing the next chapter.
no subject
on 2006-07-25 03:52 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-10-18 11:06 pm (UTC)All those flashes what look like bat relatives?
Uh oh. Wally? Did you do a genderswap?
no subject
on 2007-10-19 10:29 pm (UTC)It gets weird, but..
Not exactly. Heh. XD