“Jason?” Bruce asked, shocked, but hiding it well enough from the man before him. “It can’t be.” He snorted, dismissing the idea as ludicrous, just by his tone of voice. But Clark, even in his sick and hurting state, could tell that Bruce was at least a little unconvinced of his own words. The color had drained from the billionaire’s face, and his eyes darted uncertainly at Clark, as though the injured Kryptonian held the truth of the matter. Clark knew that his friend didn’t want it to be true.
Jason? Clark’s mind echoed. Jason Todd? Robin, from so long ago? But that would mean…
“He’s dead,” Bruce went on, his voice hardening as his conviction grew. “He’s been dead, for a long time now.”
“Oh how wrong you are, Bruce,” Jason – if it was truly him – said.
“I watched Joker murder Jason,” Bruce said, moving his head to the side as much as the restraints allowed.
“No, Bruce. Think back to that night. We went out, following a tip about Joker’s whereabouts, down by the old Carnival World. But he was prepared and waiting for us. I was captured,” Jason explained, moving in close so that his face was mere inches from Bruce’s. He gripped Bruce’s cheeks with one hand, forcing Bruce to look him in the eyes. “You were wounded, but so was Joker. He fled, taking me with him. Days later, you went back to Carnival World, looking for clues. In the same spot where we’d confronted Joker, which, if memory serves, was in front of the Tilt-A-Whirl, you found a video tape – one that would allegedly show Joker killing me.”
Bruce said nothing, but his eyes blazed in anger and self-loathing.
“What you didn’t know was that the whole thing was staged,” Jason continued, not bothered by Bruce’s silence. “Well, my death, at any rate. The tape appeared to show my murder, but Joker kept me alive.”
“I saw the knife,” Bruce growled. “I saw the moment it…”
“A prank knife,” Jason grinned dangerously. “Or do you know nothing about Joker?”
Clark saw Bruce’s face fall as realization dawned.
“The body,” Bruce protested, though it sounded weak to Clark’s aching ears, like Bruce was trying to convince himself.
“A homeless drifter.”
“The records…”
“Records can be falsified,” Jason nearly purred in delight. “Especially for the right price.”
“Joker’s not a wealthy man,” Bruce argued through gritted teeth.
“No,” Jason allowed. “But let’s just say his reach extended further than you and I ever dreamed back then.”
Bruce hung his head in thought. Then, softly, “Let’s pretend that I believe you. What happened to you?”
Jason’s face darkened like a storm cloud rolling over the sun. “After you abandoned me to Joker, he spent years tormenting me. Clearly,” he said, gesturing to his scarred and nearly unrecognizable face. “Day after day it was the same. Physical abuse. Mental abuse. While I sat there and waited for you to come rescue me. But you never did.”
Bruce snorted. “Says you. You haven’t proven anything to me yet, Jason,” he said in defiance. “For all I know, you’re just a delusional Joker Wannabe.”
“You want proof? Fine. The old access code for the Batcave was 1279380. The wall panel sparked once, burning the tip of my left index finger.” He lifted his hand and showed Bruce the finger in question, where a light scar still lingered. “You changed the panel that night and made the code 1933916.”
Bruce’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. His skin went ashen and belief bloomed in his features.
“Ah, so you do believe me,” Jason cooed.
“After the body was found and identified…” Bruce started, but seemed unable to finish. He cleared his throat and sighed. “I resigned myself to my failure. I had a funeral for you. I never imagined…I had tried so hard to find you, until that body was found. The body was burned beyond recognition. It…felt like Joker’s style. Until it was confirmed that the body was yours, I didn’t want to believe it. But when the official paperwork came back… I didn’t question the results of the DNA match.”
“Oh, poor little Brucie!” Jason mocked in a tone that might have otherwise been reserved for talking to an infant. “Did you lose sleep over leaving me to Joker’s insane hands?” He slapped Bruce’s cheeks in an almost playful manner. “Good. You left me at his mercy. For years.”
“I had no idea you were alive,” Bruce snapped in self-defense, though his words were pleading for forgiveness in the same moment.
Jason got right into Bruce’s face, grabbing the front of the Batsuit in a tight fist. His face mere centimeters from Bruce’s, Jason snarled malevolently. “For years I was locked away and tortured. My only thoughts were of one day getting free and paying you back for all I’d suffered,” Jason went on, gesturing broadly with his free hand, his voice a sinster hiss that made Clark’s hackles rise as he fought to stay conscious against the Kryptonite’s relentless assault.
“You need a new hobby,” Bruce quipped, echoing Clark’s thoughts exactly.
Clark tried testing his bonds as Jason taunted Bruce. But the Kryptonite necklace was still out in the open, and Clark had no strength left in his body to fight. The metal held fast and Clark’s head was swimming with pain.
“So where’s your puppet master?” Bruce asked, and Clark realized he may have momentarily blacked out.
“Joker? Oh, I killed him years ago,” Jason boasted, his chest puffed out with pride, waving the air dismissively. “He was cramping my style. And I never forgave him for these,” he added, pointing to the curved lines of scar tissue that twisted up from the corners of his mouth. “He thought he had me completely broken. Thought I was one of his mindless minions. I showed him.”
“I don’t believe you,” Bruce challenged.
Jason chuckled menacingly. “Oh, but you should. Perhaps, later, after I’ve begun to break you, I’ll show you his body. It’s amazing, what was left in this place when it burnt down. The basement levels were barely scorched, and everything down here survived in impeccable condition…including all the formaldehyde I could wish for.”
Bruce grimaced. “You preserved him? Sounds like a case of hero worship to me. More so than the actions of someone who claims to have hated him.”
Jason grinned wildly, his eyes gleaming with insanity. “Quite the opposite. Preserving the body like that…it’s worked wonders for striking fear into the hearts of my followers. Joker’s old followers.” He cackled with glee. “Between their fear of me and their hatred of you, it was easy to unite them under my cause.”
“You want me?” Bruce said. “Fine. But let him go,” he said, with a jerk of his head in Clark’s direction.
“And why would I do that?” Jason asked, batting his eyelashes in an overly exaggerated, innocent manner. “I let him go and he just flies off to the Gotham PD with me in tow? Not a chance. Besides, Lex Luthor is willing to pay handsomely for proof that he’s dead.”
“Luthor?” Clark growled, summoning up the energy to speak.
“Ah, he is still with us,” Jason grinned, showing a mouthful of teeth that had been filed to sharp points – either by choice or by force, it was impossible to tell.
“Luthor’s in prison,” Clark spat, his chest heaving with the effort of speaking.
“True. But, let’s face it, that will never stop him,” Jason said with a shrug. “The money is set aside. All I have to do is provide the proof. But first…we’ll have a little fun.” He cracked his fingers in anticipation.
“Won’t Luthor want him unscathed? He’s a trophy after all,” Bruce said coolly.
“Well, well. I never knew you to have such a dark side, Batsy!” Jason clapped crazily. Then he turned and clucked his tongue at Clark. “Tsk, tsk, Superman! Throwing yourself into such danger to try and rescue a man who’s more than ready to throw you to the wolves!” He turned back to Bruce. “Luthor needs only his head, not the rest of his corpse.”
“Hey, Boss?” called a woman’s irritatingly high-pitched voice. “We’ve got a problem.”
“What now, Harley?” Jason called, annoyed.
“Our boys on the street say the Gotham PD is picking up all the guards we’d posted around the building. What do you wanna do about it?”
Jason huffed in annoyance. “Be right there.” He smiled creepily at his hostages. “Forgive me for my rudeness. But I’ll be back soon. Oh, I almost forgot. Here, Superman. Green is definitely your color.” With that, he hung the Kryptonite necklace around Clark’s neck.
For a moment, he admired how it hung there, and the way Clark feebly squirmed in agony. Then he lifted the radioactive stone and pressed it to the center of Clark’s forehead. Immediately, the skin there blistered and burned. Clark screamed in some of the worst pain he’d ever felt. Even getting shot that one time – his first encounter with Kryptonite, years ago as Nightwing – hadn’t hurt that badly. At least then he’d been lucky enough to pass out from the pain.
Jason chuckled. “Luthor wasn’t kidding about this rock,” he muttered to himself. “It’s better than I ever dreamed it would be.” He pressed the rock into the burn on Clark’s head again, causing Clark to cry out in pain once more. A grin split his disfigured face as he admired the power of the Kryptonite. Then he let the chunk of deadly stone fall against Clark’s chest. He patted it against the S for good measure and Clark was relieved that the man hadn’t spotted the tiny body camera nestled amongst the red threads that outlined the symbol. “Try not to die on me before we get…acquainted,” he said smoothly.
With another cackle, Jason walked off.
When he was out of earshot, Bruce looked over – as much as he could – to Clark. “What are you doing here?” he whispered.
Clark coughed harshly, every breath a torment with the Kryptonite hanging around his neck. “Saving you,” he croaked out, unable to summon even the smallest wry smile. Instead, he wound up wheezing.
“Alfred called you, didn’t he?” Bruce mused.
“Yes,” was all Clark could say. He winced against the Kryptonite’s assault and struggled not to pass out.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could reach the chain,” Bruce apologized.
Clark weakly shook his head. An idea popped into his mind as he did so. He used his remaining strength to try to use his head and neck to manipulate the necklace. Moving his head to the right, he was able to capture the chain in his mouth. Slowly, he worked the chain upward until he was able to flick it up over his nose. In the process, the shard of glowing green stone whacked him in the chin, burning his flesh. Clark bit down on the chain, trying to stifle the scream that rose in his throat. He panted with the effort, feeling his energy flagging. But, at last, he had the chain up as high as he could manage. Then, flipping his head once more, he tried to send the offending piece of jewelry flying up and off his body. He tried repeatedly, failing each time, until he felt completely spent.
“You know,” came a voice from behind him, “there’s an easier way to do that. All you have to do is ask nicely.”
“Lois?” he sputtered in disbelief, his drooping eyelids snapping wide open.
“I told you not to get yourself killed before I got a chance to yell at you,” she quipped.
“Sorry,” he apologized as she lifted the necklace from his tortured body. “Believe me, this was not on my ‘To Do’ list.”
“I’ll bet. Now be still.”
Instant relief flooded his body as Lois removed the necklace, but it was only a fraction of what he needed.
“Get it away from him,” Bruce instructed. “Just being near that stone is enough to kill him.”
Lois took stock of the room, then stuffed the stone into the utility belt around her waist. As the pouch closed tightly over the rock, the assault of pain disappeared. Clark’s body sagged against his bonds – only the short chains on his shackles kept him from sinking to the floor. He had no strength to attempt to keep himself upright.
“Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely, his throat raw from the force of his earlier screams of agony.
“What…what was that?” she asked, patting the pouch where the necklace resided. She looked and sounded shaken.
“Kryptonite,” Bruce supplied.
“It’s real?” Lois sounded surprised. “I’ve heard of it spoken about only in rumors by nutjobs like Bureau 39…it’s never been confirmed,” she corrected herself.
“Oh, it’s real,” Clark said, “and as deadly as the rumors have said. I’ve only encountered it a couple of times but…it’s been more than enough.”
“Enough chit-chat,” Bruce scolded. “Can you break the chains?” he asked Clark.
Clark struggled for a moment. “No,” he finally said.
“But you’re Superman,” Lois reminded him.
“Not without sunlight I’m not. The Kryptonite saps my powers. Without the sun to recharge them, I’m as ordinary as the next guy,” Clark hastily explained.
Lois appeared thoughtful, then she began to search the rest of the compartments on her belt. Clark watched as she did so, noting the slightly baggy, but very familiar, costume she was sporting. It was black, save for an icy blue, stylized bat on the chest, which spread to her shoulders. The mask she hid her identity behind was a similarly designed, sleek bat shape as well. Clark smiled. It was – if he wasn’t mistaken – his very first Nightwing suit, from way back when he’d been eighteen and still filling out.
“I think Alfred gave me something…” Lois mumbled as she searched. Then, “Aha! Got it!”
“Ssh!” Bruce admonished. “Bane’s not far.”
Jason’s voice echoed in the room, coming closer. Harley Quinn’s distinctive, grating voice followed.
“Lois! Hide,” Clark hissed under his breath. “And…” he gulped in dread. “Put the necklace back. Jason can’t know anyone else is here.”
Lois reluctantly did as Clark asked, but it was clear she wasn’t happy about it one bit. Then she darted away to find a place to hide. From Clark’s position, he couldn’t see where she went. He could only pray that Jason wouldn’t get his hands on her. And even those hopeful thoughts lasted only a second or two before the pain overwhelmed him to the exclusion of all else.
“Oh, good! You haven’t died just yet!” Jason announced gleefully as he caught sight of Clark. “It seems that you can do something right after all! Must feel good, after your laughably botched rescue of our dear Brucie!” He walked toward Clark and patted him on the head like a dog, then he slapped Clark’s left cheek with all the force he could muster. “I have some things to take care of. Harley!” he barked sharply. “Be a dear and watch these two, would you?”
“Sure thing, Boss!” Harley piped up with a salute.
“Bane!” Jason called, ignoring the woman. “Come with me!”
The monstrous behemoth of a man lumbered to Jason’s side. Without the brute’s meaty hand wrapped around his throat, Clark was able to study the man, at least as much as the Kryptonite allowed him to. As he drank in the sight of that twisted, misshapen, grotesquely proportioned being, Clark felt a surge of revulsion rise up inside. There was a part of him that wondered if Bane had always looked that way or if he’d been the victim of some vile experiments that had given him his tortured form. Clark pitied the man, as much as he wanted to recoil from him. But it wasn’t Bane’s looks that struck fear into Clark’s heart. He’d already seen, first hand, how immensely strong and powerful he was. It was a wonder to Clark how Bane hadn’t snapped his neck like a twig earlier.
Bane grunted at Jason.
“Wait for me in the hall,” Jason instructed him. Then, to Clark, “Oh, Superman, are you feeling ill? You’re looking a bit green if I do say so myself.” He laughed hard at his own joke as he once more fingered the chunk of Kryptonite hanging around Clark’s neck. He turned to Bruce. “And as for you…I’m looking forward to getting reacquainted with you,” he said in a menacing hiss. Then, brightening back to his more flamboyantly crazy self, he grinned. “Ta-ta for now! I won’t be gone long!”
With a flourish, he made his way across the room and out the door.
Clark coughed, his head hanging to his chest. He forced himself to think through the haze of pain that clouded both his body and his mind. There had to be a way to get out of that situation, without putting Lois’ life at risk.
“Harley,” Bruce called, and the woman turned to him after picking up a discarded plank of wood. She put it over her shoulder like it was a baseball bat.
“No talking,” she warned, eying him with cold disdain.
“I’m surprised to see you taking orders from Jason,” Bruce continued, undeterred. “After all, he killed Joker. The love of your life, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Shut up,” she commanded.
“He stole away the one man you’ve ever truly loved. Cut his life short and left you here, alive, and all alone,” Bruce taunted. “And you willingly follow your lover’s murderer now?” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I thought you had more loyalty to Joker than that.”
“I hate him,” Harley shrieked. “But I’m also not ready to join Mr. J on the Other Side either.”
“So he’s threatened you too,” Clark growled, the words an absolute effort.
“Who cares?” Lois’ voice came from behind Harley as she plunged a syringe full of a clear liquid into Harley’s neck. “Take five. I’ll handle it from here,” she told Harley as the woman keeled over, the potent sedative taking immediate effect. “God,” she said, looking icily down on Harley’s unmoving form, “what an annoying voice on that woman.”
She went to Clark first. “Let’s get this off you,” she said as she lifted the necklace from his neck once again and hid it away in one of her belt compartments.
Then she set to work on his shackles, pulling out the small rotary tool she’d had in her hands before Jason’s return. She turned it on and carefully placed the spinning blade against the metal, expertly cutting through Clark’s bonds, though Clark could see that she was nervous about the potential to hurt him.
“You’re doing great,” he encouraged her. He managed a weak smile as the first shackle fell away. “Does this mean you still love me?” he teased.
“It means I’m not done being mad at you,” she snapped as she set to work on his other wrist bond.
“Nice work, Miss Lane,” Alfred said over the earpieces.
In the heat of everything, Clark had nearly forgotten his friends in the Batcave.
“Alfred. Jimmy. Did you guys get everything Jason said?” he asked.
“Everything, CK. I’m editing together a video and audio clips to give to the police when you’re ready. We’ve got everything we need to nail that creep to the wall.” The excited, boyish grin on Jimmy’s face shone through in his voice. “I’m just being cautious and going over it all again, to make sure there’s nothing in there to give away Bruce’s identity.”
“Thanks, Ji…Oracle. You’re the best,” Clark praised him.
Lois stopped cutting and the shackle fell away. With the short chain no longer forcing his body to remain standing, Clark crumpled to the floor. His hands landed on some chipped and broken floor tiles, and his palms were pricked in several places, drawing tiny beads of blood. Lois knelt at his side and started to work on the shackle binding his right ankle.
“So, Jimmy’s the best?” she asked, her eyebrow arched. Clark knew the tone. She was poking fun at him, but in a dangerous way that never panned out well for him.
“Only on the technological side of things,” he offered, gathering strength and sitting up. “You, on the other hand, are the master of action rescues,” he said sincerely.
“The master, huh?”
“The god?” Clark offered instead.
“Better,” Lois replied.
“Get a room,” Bruce muttered teasingly. “Is your strength returning at all yet?” he asked Clark, in an effort to bring the focus back to their escape.
“No,” Clark said, testing it by trying to snap his leg restraints. “There’s no sun. I can’t recharge down here. Looks like we’re stuck doing this the old-fashioned way.”
“It’s always worked well enough,” Bruce grimly agreed.
“Should be fun,” Clark replied.
Bruce laughed darkly. “Could be.” He sighed. “So…no offense Lois but…how and why are you here?”
Lois didn’t spare a glance for the billionaire. “Ask Clark,” she snorted in anger.
Clark shrugged helplessly. “It’s my fault. She and Jimmy came over to watch the fight. I wasn’t thinking when Alfred called and I accidently changed into my uniform where they could see. And, well, you know Lois. She insisted that I bring her to Gotham with me.”
“Mmm,” Bruce hummed in understanding. Either he instinctively knew that Lois would have followed Clark to Gotham or if he just didn’t want to press the issue right then and there, Clark couldn’t tell.
“There’s that’s the last of it,” Lois announced in a hushed voice as Clark was finally completely set free. She turned to Bruce and, since she was already kneeling, went to work on his ankle bonds first. “You don’t have to worry, Bruce. Your secret’s safe with me. Don’t give me that look! I won’t say a word about Clark’s either…even if he is a walking dead man, as far as I’m concerned.”
“He can make some pretty…dim-witted decisions, at times,” Bruce agreed with a smirk.
“Hey!” Clark cried out in a weak protest.
“You’re really going to argue this?” Lois asked, as the shackle broke and she began on the next one.
Clark went to make a reply, but stopped and swallowed down the retort that had been brewing. “Okay,” he relented. “Maybe I haven’t always made the best choices. But I’ve done the best I can,” he insisted.
“That remains to be seen,” Lois snapped.
The last of Bruce’s bonds broke, releasing him. He stood and rubbed his aching wrists as Clark pushed himself off the floor. Finding the ability to stand once more possible, some of his worry fled. Bruce clapped him on the shoulder.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” Clark replied.
“Here,” Lois said, tucking the tool away and pulling out an earpiece for Bruce. She placed it into his outstretched hand. “Alfred sent this along. This too.” She produced a thin latex cowl that Clark recognized as a base layer for the thicker one he usually wore. “This was the only one I could easily take along with me.”
“Perfect,” Bruce nodded. “I owe you one.” With practiced grace, he inserted the earpiece. “Alfred? Are you there?”
An audible sigh of relief came across the earpieces. “Yes, sir. Reading you loud and clear.”
“Good,” Bruce said, his eyes already sweeping the area as he tugged on the cowl. He started to move.
“Uh? Bruce? Jason – and the exit – are that way,” Clark reminded him cheekily, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
“I know. But my things are that way,” Bruce said, pointing ahead to the room Jason had disappeared to right after Clark had been captured.
“Go. I’ll keep watch,” Clark said with a nod.
“Back in a minute,” Bruce promised.
Lois made no motion to follow Bruce, but trailed Clark to the double doors leading into the room. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Clark, her smoldering eyes boring a hole through his forehead.
“Lois, I…” he began, his words faltering.
“Save it,” she commanded. “It’s not the time or the place.”
“You’re right. It’s not. But…it doesn’t change the fact that I’m so, so sorry about what happened. I should have told you earlier,” he pressed.
“Damn right you should have,” Lois snapped angrily.
Clark bit back the rest of his apology. It was clear Lois wasn’t ready to hear it yet, and, besides, Jimmy, Alfred, and Bruce were all listening in. He sighed to himself, wondering what he could say that would cut some of the tension between them. An idea formed in his mind as he looked at her.
“You know,” Clark quipped dryly, breaking the silence, “when I imagined you borrowing my clothing, it was more along the lines of you swiping one of my sweatshirts. Not seeing you wearing my old Nightwing uniform.”
Her eyes widened and she gaped. “This was yours?” she asked, pulling at the slightly baggy fabric. Then, narrowing her eyes, “You pictured me wearing your clothing?”
Clark risked a small smile. “Well, we have been dating nearly a year. I’m surprised you haven’t borrowed an old shirt yet to keep warm on a cold stakeout or something.” He chuckled lightly. “But…to answer your question…yes, that’s mine. I used to be Nightwing, a long time ago. Another lifetime ago, or so it feels. I’m actually surprised Alfred didn’t tell you.”
“Sorry, Master Clark, but I thought it best if you be the one to deliver that information,” Alfred apologized before falling silent.
“He didn’t say a word,” Lois confirmed. Her voice was clipped, still fuming from all she hadn’t been told. “Anything else I should know about? Do you also run around pretending to be Wonder Woman as well?”
Clark gave her another tiny smile. “No. Diana would kill me if I took one of her outfits. Besides, I could never work in heels that high,” he jested.
His joked worked and Lois’ stony face finally cracked to reveal the barest of smiles and warmth.
“That breastplate would look hideous on you,” she replied.
“Probably,” Clark agreed.
“You two! Stop fooling around,” Bruce chided. “Clark? You have a body cam, yes?”
“Yeah, Bruce. What’s up?”
“I found Joker.”
To Be Continued…
