DC2 Special #2: "World's Finest"

Chapter One: Bumbling Reporter-


Metropolis, unlike Gotham, shines. Metropolis, unlike Gotham, has one of the lowest crime rates in America. Metropolis, unlike Gotham, can claim residence of one of the most powerful superheroes in the entire universe. Metropolis, unlike Gotham, is not prepared for what lies ahead…

“Are you sure?”

He smiled. “Of course I’m sure. It’ll make a nice surprise for all those gathered. And I see that the press are already here so why not give them a real reason for their attendance?”

“Well, if you insist. They are your… your mothers weren't they?”

He nodded solemnly.

“Sorry. Well, they are your property, so we shall keep to your wishes, now, can I get you something?”

He shook his head, and picked up his glass. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Even at night, you can walk the streets, not fearing for your purse, your watch, and your life. You can walk the parks, and know deep down, that no one is going to mug you. They’re afraid. Not in the way you would be afraid in Gotham. But here, winds whip up without any warning, and you’re suddenly in need of a heavy-duty jigsaw to get you out of the lamppost bow you’ve suddenly found yourself tied up in.

A waitress approached him, a sterile smile mounted upon her face. Was she as uncomfortable as him in this room full of fakes? “Can I get you anything, sir?”

He smirked and lifted his glass up, and shook his head. The woman moved on, and left him to his silent vigil.

Bruce Wayne sipped his tonic and lemon as he looked out over the shining city he had found himself in. Alfred Pennyworth was back in Gotham with young Dick Grayson, and had reluctantly allowed Bruce to venture out on his own, trusting that his many lessons on acting like a real human being in social situations had stuck.

Bruce sipped his drink again and kept gazing out the window. He was amazed, strangely enough, at the difference between the two cities. Gotham was… predatory. It scrabbled and groped at humanity, dragging it down into its depths. Drugs, prostitution, and that was only the east end of the city… But here, in Metropolis, it was beautiful and serene, two words that he hadn’t thought of for a good long time. Beautiful and serene was his youth. Beautiful and serene was everything before he was eight years old. Beautiful and serene was--

“Why the long face, handsome?” Now that didn’t sound like a waitress…

He turned around, and smiled, realizing who was talking to him, “Lois, hello!” The raven haired beauty was wearing a purple dress, and a pearl necklace that rested just atop of her collarbone. Her red lipstick glistened, and she was just as beautiful as the last time he had met her.

Lois Lane, girl reporter. The night had just improved exponentially. “I don’t see anyone hanging on your arm, Bruce… something wrong?” She cocked an eyebrow, her hand gently touching his shoulder.

“I only just got into the city, Lois,” he paused, and then continued, “I haven’t had time to make any calls…”

She pulled her hand away. “Ah.”

Better for her to keep her distance, thought Bruce. “How’s life at the Planet?”

“Good. Good. Jimmy keeps pestering Perry for a raise. Perry keeps ordering him out for coffee. Same old, same old.” She smiled again.

That smile. No wonder Clark loved her.

“Mr Wayne!” Bumbling. He pirouetted awkwardly around a waiter and nearly fell over in front of Bruce, but steadied himself, gasping for air.

“Smallville?” whispered Lois in disbelief.

Clark Kent. Mild mannered reporter.

Yeah. Right.

You all know the story, right? Last son of a dying planet, rocketed to Earth and adopted by kindly couple. Seems that the Last Son was something of a superhero, and by his teens he had discovered powers above and beyond those of normal humans. It was when he was a teenager that he discovered he wasn’t from Earth, too. Talk about growing pains…

Bruce Wayne smiled, and Clark returned the sentiment. They had known each for how long? Two years? Two years of team ups, mistaken identities, fights, losses and victories. The reporter put out his hand, and Bruce took it, and squeezed tightly. He always did that. Clark looked him in the eye, and Bruce just grinned.

“Alright, testosterone…!” Lois wafted her hand in front of her face. “I’m going to get a glass of champagne. I’ll leave you two grappling.” She drifted away, and Bruce and Clark turned to watch her go. “I’ll speak to you later, Smallville…”

When she was out of sight, and it was just the two of them next to the window, Bruce began to speak. “You know why I’m here?”

Clark nodded, “I’ve got an idea, Bruce. I heard about Gotham Museum. The diamond exhibition. You think there might be a link between what happened there and what’s going on here?”

“Think?” Bruce smirked. “I know.” He sipped his tonic water. “Lois is looking nice tonight.”

Clark placed his hand on the billionaire’s shoulder. “Stop trying to get a rise out of me.” whispered Clark. “Keep your mind on the problem at hand. I know why you’re here tonight. I heard you talking to the manager.”

Bruce smiled slyly whilst taking another sip, “listening in on a private conversation? Shame on you, Clark.”

Clark grit his teeth. “Stop trying to provoke me, Bruce! Every time we meet, you’re like this…you’re better than that!” He shrugged and tapped the side of his head. “Besides, with ears like this, hard to miss anything.”

“Well, if you know why I’m here tonight, then you know it had to be done.”

“Let me guess, you have a theory?”

Bruce smiled, and placed his drink down. “A theory? Of course I do.”

Chapter Three- Renowned Playboy:




Metropolis
Today-

“Why are you smiling?” inquired Clark Kent, to the smirking Bruce Wayne.

“I’m remembering something.” Answered Bruce, before finishing his tonic water. “It’s been one week exactly since the last theft. People come and go between Metropolis and Gotham every day. Businessmen and women, holiday makers--”

“Billionaire playboys…” muttered Clark as he took a sip from his own glass of water.

Bruce chortled. “Billionaire playboys, yes. Them too,” he continued. “Tonight, someone is going to come to Metropolis,” he paused, “No, sorry, tonight, someone is in Metropolis, and I just made this entire event a target.”

“Excuse me?” spat Clark, water dribbling from his mouth.

“You heard me. Do you really think I’d bring something to Metropolis that is so important to me for kicks? Something that was important to my mother? This collection is worth millions. And I’ve ensured that no other collection is on show, or currently residing in Metropolis tonight. It cost me half a fortune to do it, but I have. Luckily I have quite a few fortunes to throw away…” Quipped Bruce. “So now, we are the targets. You’re here, I’m here, but so are some of Metropolis’ high and mighty.”

“So what now?”

Bruce’s eyes darkened. “We wait.” He paused. “And we see.”

Elsewhere-

“What is it?” inquired the thug.

The room was dimly lit, but the light that was present sparkled along the piles of jewels, emeralds, diamonds and gold, refracting all around the chamber, rainbows of light arching everywhere, illuminating the master villain’s face as she replied.

“A mystery,” hissed Magpie, playing with the long crystalline object in her hand. “A pretty-pretty mystery.”

Chapter Four- Faster Than:


He was in the air between blinks. Faster then the Flash. Or not, he smiled. His x-ray vision swam over the city, and apart from the lead-lined, Luthor-owned buildings, he could see everything. Every nook and cranny of this glistening city of dreams, his city, the city he vowed to protect… he could see everything. He could see what had caused the explosion. And he could see the aftermath. His eyes widened.

“Great Scott…”

The Daily Planet creaked and howled in agony as its foundations screamed into dust. Smoke engulfed the higher levels, the lobby was burning into nothingness and the golden globe atop the roof was teetering at an angle, threatening to tumble off.

Superman had to act fast. He breathed in deeply, so deeply that high above Metropolis there was a loud explosion as air rushed back in, and then he dove toward the lobby, and with a gust of cold air from his Kryptonian lungs, he put out the fire, but he didn’t stop there. He looked up, at the toppling globe, and an arch of ice formed from his throat as he thought colder and colder thoughts, until the top of the arch held the Planet in place. There was still fire. Fire everywhere in fact. He began to spin around, sucking more and more oxygen away from the blazes, but far up, there was still more commotion taking place.

This was it, thought the Dark Knight, as he hacked into the surveillance cameras inside the ballroom and viewed the events through lenses in his mask. He placed his fingertips, laced with microphone receivers, against the adjoining wall, and waited. The room was in turmoil, and he knew that his presence was likely to make it worse. But he was ready, his costume on, and his other hand clenched ready to be used as an offensive weapon. He smiled, and listened and watched.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” A voice, female, noted Batman. He couldn’t see anything yet. Smoke rushed out of an opening door, and he could hear a shuffling of feet with his directional microphone. “I HAVE COME FOR YOUR GREED AND VANITY!”

Could it be? He questioned, Could this be Magpie? The criminal that had eluded him for so long?

His lenses found the source of the noise, and using the remote control built into his hacking system, the cameras followed her entrance. Beautiful. Long white hair falling down her back, below her waist, and a pair of red goggles over her face. Her costume was silver and scarlet, and around her wrists were diamond bracelets, probably stolen from her many immaculate robberies before this moment.

He readied himself.

He too could make an entrance.

“The rules are simple,” she grinned, holding a long barrelled shotgun in one hand, diamond studded toward the trigger, “You give me all your jewellery, and you live.”

“Not so fast, Magpie!” he roared. She span around, and watched as her two bodyguards flew to the ground, blood trickling from their broken jaws. “How about we change the rules of your game?”

“Yeah, how about that?” She pulled a small device from her back and pressed a red button before Batman could reach her. More explosives? He pulled the batarang from his belt and separated her from the device, metal ricocheting across metal and sending the handheld device flying toward the mini bar. “Too late, tall, dark and brooding!”

“What have you done?” Demanded Batman, pulling up Magpie by her collar.

“Use your eyes, World’s Greatest Detective!” Batman dropped her to the ground, and saw the guests struggle with their throats. His hand went to his belt, to his re-breather, but he realized it wasn’t gas. No, it was what was around their necks! The necklaces that had been handed out to the most beautiful women in the room (and there were plenty!) had suddenly folded out into thick collars, ones that were glowing green and tightening around larynxes!

“What are you doing?” Questioned Batman, running toward one of the victims, trying to see what was happening to her, struggling to remove the snare.

“This is Metropolis, baby! You don’t come to Metropolis without thinking twenty three steps ahead!”

“Twenty three?” Muttered Batman. He found he could do nothing, and began to fiddle with a device in his belt, attaching it to the collar and spinning back around to confront his enemy, his cape twirling behind him like smoke. “Stop this!”

Magpie fumbled toward the device that had been thrown from her hand, and then pressed another button. The tightening stopped, but didn’t do anything else. “Remove your little action enhancing devices!”

“What?”

“I’ve studied you, Batman!” Grinned Magpie, her long hair flowing behind her like a cape. “Your belt! Your gloves! Your boots too, yeah, I see where you can slip out lock picks!” She tapped her eyes with a long, slender finger. “Eyes like a bird, Batman! I can see anything of value on anyone. And those little items? Looks like it’s of some value to you, anyway!” Meta? Maybe, thought Batman. She was good. “I know what you can do with the tricks in your party bag, so get to it!” She pulled up her weapon, and aimed it square at the Dark Knight’s chest. “And I know for every twenty three steps I think ahead, you’ve thought twenty five! I know that! That’s why I had to vary my crimes! Keep you occupied!”

“Twenty five,” whispered Batman, “More like thirty three.” He pulled a grapnel from the back compartment of his belt, and aimed it at Magpie. “Put down the weapon else you leave her in traction.”

“I don’t think so!” Magpie didn’t hesitate. Batman didn’t see it coming. She pulled the trigger on her weapon and the barrel shuddered and creaked, a shard of glistening transparent crystal shooting out like a rocket, catching the Dark Knight square in the chest. He tried to roll away from it but he howled in agony as it hit him, but not before he was able to fire off his grapnel and hit the side of Magpie’s head, causing her to spin around in pain. “Sonofa--” She steadied herself, and she saw Batman lie lifelessly on the floor. “Heh. Hmm. Nice.”

Chapter Five- Cowardly and Superstitious:


What was that? Thought Superman as he examined his handiwork. A tower of ice was still erected next to the building, but thankfully it would hold for a damn long time. Long enough to ensure everyone’s safety. What was troubling him was what caused it. He sniffed. Olfactory senses higher than any normal human being. He could smell the explosives. C4. Plain and simple. He also opened up his ears, and heard voices close by…

“He’s here!”

“Fire!”

He darted around, and saw a missile rocket out from across the gap between buildings, trailing fire and black smoke. “Holy--!” He leaped into the air and grabbed the device, and then threw it upwards, but before it could get far enough away it detonated, the concussion sending Superman flying into the globe that was frozen into place and onto the roof, the monument tottering over the edge and toward the street below. He was up in an instant. There were people below! Fire fighters! Reporters! Paramedics! He shot down the building and unleashed his heat vision, reducing the massive golden glove into molten slag, and then with a gust of his arctic breath he froze it, and before it hit the ground he had it in his hands, and was already shooting back up to where the snipers were.

“Move!”

“I don’t think so,” stated Superman, as he gently heated their weapons with his eyes. Two men, clad in black, screamed as the superheated weapons in their gloved hands fell out of them, clattering with a thud onto the ground. “You’re not going anywhere till you tell me who--”

“Magpie! It was Magpie!” shouted the two men.

“Well that wasn’t too hard.” Smiled Superman as he picked up their weapons and grabbed their hands. “Where is she?”

“The ball! She wanted to hit the ball! Two birds with one stone she said, Wayne’s diamonds!”

“Wayne…” muttered Superman. “The ball!” He was off like a shot. The crooks stumbled and fell to the ground because of his slipstream, and the police officers that rushed to the roof looked on in awe as they saw the flash of red shoot towards the ball. He was nearly there, barely taking a second to reach his target, when he was suddenly was struck by an agonising pain that tore through his entire being. It was a familiar agony, and as he clutched his chest and felt himself loose height, he knew what was the cause…

Kryptonite!

With a crash of concrete and glass, he collided with the side of the building, and skidded to a stop beside Magpie, who was smiling from ear to ear. The men and women screamed as they saw the defeated Superman, and Lois Lane knew what was happening more so than the others. Their collars were doing this. She coughed, her throat tight, and tried to think about what to do. Batman. He would know what to do. She scrambled over to him, his body lifeless, “I heard you once survived a nuclear blast! Get up… Get up!” She shook him, but Magpie just laughed.

“I killed the Batman!” She grabbed one of the necklaces and approached Superman, ready to place it around his neck and bring him in direct contact with the green kryptonite. “And now I’ll kill Superman!”

Lois didn’t stop shaking the Dark Knight. “Get up,” she sobbed, and suddenly a hand was around her wrist. She looked at the head of Batman, and smiled, tears streaming down her face.

“One day… I’ll tell you that story.” He leaned forward, and yanked the large crystal shard out of his chest, blood tipping the end. “Hrn.” He threw it aside and pulled up his grapnel. “You.”

“Oh, crap,” hissed Magpie, fiddling with the necklace and trying to get it around Superman’s neck.

“Oh no you don’t!” howled Lois, kicking the silver haired villain across the jaw, sending her scampering across the ground and into one of her henchmen.

“I’ll handle the thugs Lois, you get the hostages to the other side of the room!” Batman clipped his grapnel back to his belt, smiled, and grabbed Superman:

Chapter Seven- The Krypton Factor:


He sipped his glass of cold water, and could feel the liquid trickle down his throat. His chest was bandaged, and he wore a purple dressing gown and baggy grey bottoms. His body ached, and he wished Alfred were here. His own stitch work never quite matched up to his faithful retainers. He had been analysing the ‘Jewel Kryptonite’ with what he had in his suite. He was staying in a hotel chain owned exclusively by Wayne Enterprises, and was residing in a top floor penthouse suite which only admitted him, with a thumbprint recognition system hidden behind a panel on the wall. It was musty, as the cleaners never came up here, but it also felt secure. Safe. Metropolis was a beautiful city, yes, but still… Not home. Better than home. And he hated that.

There was a hidden run, which contained a mini-laboratory, spare costumes, and a Bat-gyro. He smiled. Bat-gyro. Dick and his silly nicknames. That reminded him, he owed Dick some flying lessons when he returned to Gotham. His window was wide open, and he took a small bat-shaped device from his belt and held it up toward the night sky. Ultrasonic signal. This’d get Superman’s attention--

There was a knocking at the door. He span around, and nearly spilled his drink. He looked through the spy hole and his brow furrowed. He opened the door, and was met by Clark Kent. “You should really hide your tracks more efficiently.”

“I let you find me,” snapped Bruce.

“Then why have you got the ultrasonic signal in your hand?”

“I was getting impatient,” retorted Bruce. “The case is solved, I’m returning to Gotham tomorrow morning.”

Clark nodded in understanding. He never stuck around. He got the job done and then he moved on. No more, no less. He was Batman, so no one expected any different. “Lois was curious as to where you went during the commotion.”

“I met a beautiful young woman by the name of… I didn’t catch her name.” He nodded slowly. “European. I love Europeans.” He smiled and walked over to a decanter full of mineral water. “Wasn’t she curious as to your exit? Drink?”

“Please. Oh, I broke my only good pair of glasses. I had to go home and get a new pair, but when I got back Superman had already left with Batman too.”

Bruce passed Clark a glass with three ice cubes in and filled to the top with water and laughed quietly. “Good one.”

“Yeah well, being around her long enough you learn to think up excuses quickly.” He smiled and took a sip. “What? Why are you smiling?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t got a back log of excuses saved up in that photographic memory of yours, ready and waiting for the right occasion.” Bruce smiled and approached the mini laboratory and removed the shard of crystal from a strange device with lenses and lights attached to each other. “It’s harmless, but slightly ionised, probably from following the ion trail of your ship to Earth.”

“What do you mean?”

“A world blows up, light-years away, and chunks of it ends up here? In America? Don’t you think that’s a bit of a leap, even for our lives?”

“I never thought about it.”

“I’m thinking that the reason that the various forms of Kryptonite, or any kind of Kryptonian relic, I’m thinking the reason that they follow you here, is because of the ion trail of your ship. It’s made a little sparkling trail that drags them here, like a force of nature. Like gravity.”

“Wow,” sighed Clark, “I hadn’t considered that either.”

“Just a theory,” Bruce paused. “Anyway, I enhanced whatever ambient signatures it emitted onto a sample of your DNA and--”

“You have a sample of my DNA?”

Bruce glared at him. “…”

“Sorry, continue.”

“And nothing. It’s unlike any other kind of Kryptonite we’ve experienced before. I think it’s harmless. A harmless piece of your home world,” he clutched his aching chest, “harmless to some, that is.”

Clark took a hold of it, and stroked it with his fingers. It hummed in a high pitch, and he smiled. “The holoprojection of my father told me about this with emotion.” he stopped talking and then after a thought, continued, moving his fingers away from the crystal, “Jor-El’s holoprojection doesn’t normally tell me things with anything other than droll understatement.”

Bruce smiled, “I know the type.”

“But he loved that place. He went there whenever time would permit it. The Science Police frowned upon that kind of activity but still, he went.”

“You have good memories of your parents then,” smiled Bruce.

“Recordings.” corrected Clark, “Good recordings. Nothing can compete with real, tangible memory Bruce. I had my Ma and Pa, but still…” He trailed off, seeing Bruce’s visible discomfort on the subject, “Never mind.”

“Tell you what Clark,” pondered Bruce, “take that back to your Fortress. I’m thinking you might have the technology to replicate the make up of the shards, and maybe… I don’t know. Rebuild or something.”

“I could,” smiled Clark, “couldn’t I?”

“Yeah,” nodded Bruce, “Yeah.”

“Oh, Bruce, can you do me a favour?”

“Depends on if I can ask one of you…”

Metropolis-

“Damn,” grunted Lois, looking at the blank screen on her computer.

“What’s wrong, Lois?”

“I didn’t get that interview. After all that, I didn’t get that interview.”

“I heard Bruce Wayne got the girl.”

“Yeah?” sighed Lois, “from who?”

Clark pointed to a memory stick he held in between his fingers. “From him.”

“Is that--?”

“An interview.”

“You sly dog, Smallville! How the hell did you get that?”

“I called in a favour.”

“Oh? So what do you owe Bruce Wayne?”

“Nothing. He collected on it straight away.”

“I’m intrigued.”

He smiled, and headed towards Perry’s office, the bullpen still fire damaged from the events hours before, but Perry had roused the other reporters into a furore, and they had hammered out an entire nights worth of news in one hour. He was one hell of an editor-in-chief, that man. Clark lowered his glasses, and winked at Lois, “like a good reporter should be.”



End.