Eesh. I guess I shouldn't mix Silver Age characterization with Modern Age plot. Nonetheless, I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. Fuck Hush, this guy is SCARY. TW: child murder.
-Cro
Clark woke up before dawn to a shift in his bed. He opened his eyes to see Bruce gently climb out of his arms and out of bed, still naked and glistening.
"Hey," Clark slurred. "Hey you. Ge'backin bed, you."
Bruce turned and smiled, revealing several dark bite marks on his chest and neck and long scratches in his unshaven thighs. His skin glowed in the pale blue light of the fortress.
"I'll be right back," Bruce whispered. "Bathroom."
Clark caught his hand as he tried to leave and kissed it. "I love you."
"I love you too, Clark."
In that moment, Clark was happy. Blissful, even. At the moment his world felt whole. He watched his partner, his best friend, his lover, his Bruce leave and he closed his eyes and waited for him to return.
But super heroes don't get days off. Super heroes don't get to bask in love and ignore the rest of the world. Super heroes don't get peace.
A single scream of anguish and Clark was on his naked feet running.
"Bruce! Bruce, what's wrong?!" He tore into the control room where Bruce, clad in his boxers, was fumbling with the remote, his face twisted in agony and disbelief.
"Gotham 7," he yelled desperately.
Alarmed, Clark took the remote and put a steadying hand on Bruce's shoulder, who shrank away.
The enormous screen came alive with a pair of grave anchors sitting at a news desk.
"-responsible," said the man.
The woman nodded at him, then the camera. "If you're just joining us now," she said seriously, "the criminal known only as The Joker is claiming responsibility for the suicide bombing last night, which left twenty-nine children dead. Three teachers from the elementary school the children were abducted from remain in critical condition."
"No," Clark whispered in abject horror. Bruce silently watched with furious tears rolling down his cheeks.
"The bomber, positively identified as Jack Gibson, was one of the Joker's most active thugs. A self-proclaimed Son of Chaos, Gibson had been arrested three times for drug possession and felony assault and was confirmed dead at the scene."
A wave of horrible recognition washed over Bruce's face.
"This video was sent to the station as the children were abducted," the man said. "With the demand that we air it live without commentary and the stipulation that we play it every two hours until the vigilante known as the Batman comes forward and, quote…" The man choked on a sob and the woman finished for him.
"Accepts his responsibility for the deaths of… Tamara Jones… Hunter Toledo… Jackson Zimmerman… Coleen Knott…"
Every single name on the list sent a spasm through Bruce. "It can't be," Clark whispered. "Why…why would anyone do this?"
"And…and submits himself to the mercy of the people. End quote," the woman finished.
"The video we are about to show has content that will be disturbing," the man said with a deep breath. "We advise you watch at your own discretion."
They cut away to a shaking view of the interior of a school bus, filled with crying children. "Heyo, kiddies!" a filthy man in a rubber clown mask said as he pulled away from the handheld camera and looked through it on the dash, his deranged eyes large and clear through the holes. "It's me! Your old pal Jacky!"
Bruce slowly backed away from the screen into the wall. Clark reached out a comforting hand, but it was slapped away violently.
"Hyuh hyuh hyuh! And I'm here with my good friend Giselle! Giselle, come here!" A little girl in a front seat shrank away from the man in the aisle, crying silently.
"I said come HERE," he roared, yanking her forward by her wrist. She shrieked in pain and fear, but Jack pulled her up by the collar of her shirt. "Hi, Giselle!" he said cheerfully. "My friend Giselle is in second grade, isn't that right! And she likes ponies and cotton candy and Batman too! Come on, Giselle, tell the nice people what you told me! Tell them! Tell them."
The little girl steeled herself and wiped the tears from her face with a determined expression. "You won't get away with this," the brave little girl said slowly. "Batman will save us."
"BATMAN! BAHAHAHA! Oh Giselle, you're funny! That's why we're best friends!" He smacked her across the face and she fell into the lap of a school mate. "'Batman will save us,' oh Giselle! That is rich! Batman hasn't saved anyone in weeks!"
With a snarl, Bruce dug his nails into a chair.
"I'm turning it off," Clark said gently, but Bruce snatched the remote out of his hand and turned up the volume.
"Who else thinks Batman is going to save us, hmm? Anybody? You there, you believe in the Batman, yes? Come on up, champ!"
A tiny blond boy hesitantly stood up and slowly walked toward Jack. "Mommy told me," he said, "Mommy told me that I shouldn't be afraid of clowns because Batman, he'll chase them all away. Because clowns are scared of heroes."
Jack glared coldly from behind his mask. "Come here, squirt," he said with exaggerated cheer. "What's your name?"
"My name is Jackson Zimmerman," he said, lisping a little. "I'm in kindergarten, I like kangaroos and cupcakes and Mrs. Steel, and… and I wanna go home!"
Clark buried his sob in his hand.
"And are you afraid of clowns?" Jack sneered.
"No, cuz Batman will chase them all away! Whoosh!"
The entire bus screamed as Jack took a small revolver out of his breast pocket and placed it against the wailing kindergartener's temple. "How 'bout now? No? Nothing? Okay, pop quiz, kiddos! Where is Uncle Jack taking us? Shoelaces. You."
A little boy recoiled. "N…Never Never Land."
"Very good, Shoelaces! Now, this right here? This is an express ticket to Never Never Land! And little Jackson here just bought himself the first seat, yaaaay!"
Older kids shielded younger kids from seeing, though their horror spread through the bus quickly. Jack picked up the struggling kindergartener and looked at the camera.
"Batman of Gotham. This is a message direct from Joker. You have two hours to find us. Every four minutes one of us will die, starting with this little puke right here. Jackson! Say bye-bye to Mommy!"
"Batman, help me! Help me please!"
"Look away, Bruce," Clark said. "Don't look."
But Bruce's eyes remained fixed on the screen, watering in rage. Jack drew the revolver a few inches from Jackson's head and stayed there for a long, long moment. Finally, Jack grinned.
"What's yellow and white and doesn't sound right?" He squeezed the trigger.
A little white flag sprung out of the gun with yellow letters Clark could barely make out as the word, "ZOINKS."
"Ahahahaha HAHAHAHA!" Jack burst. Bruce turned white.
"Don't you get it, kids? It was a fake-out! A joke! Laugh!"
"Clark…."
"WHY AREN'T YOU LAUGHING?!"
"Clark, close your eyes! Don't watch!" Bruce leapt at Clark and covered his eyes with his hands just as the screaming and the banging started. For a full thirty seconds it went on: the swing, the crunch, the wet splat, the shrieks, the sounds of a child being sick, and every horrible sound sent a vicious tremor through Batman's hands.
When it was over, Batman removed his trembling hands so Clark could see the bus, covered in brain and blood and splintered bones. Jack discarded the little boy's foot as though it was a dirty napkin. The children screamed and screamed.
"Every four minutes, Batman," the horrifying clown mask said. "And at the end, I'll blow this bus up. No bodies for mommies and daddies! Yay, Never Never Land!" As Jack skipped down the aisle, Giselle made a break for it, but Jack chased her down and tackled her. "This one's next, Batman!" he laughed. "Three minutes!"
"T…turn it off," Clark whispered.
He did.
They sat in silence.
"Alfred…I got Alfred's messages when I found my suit."
"Bruce…"
"He said I should leave Gotham. Never go back. He said it's safer that way."
"You can stay with me, I'll-"
"I need to go home," Bruce said with resolve. "I need to…"
"What? Tell me what you need to do, I'll help."
Bruce picked his suit up from the ground and put it back on slowly, piece by piece. "There's nothing you can do, Superman. Even if I wanted your help."
Oh no. He was Superman again, and Batman didn't even want him around. "What's your plan? You can't just fly in with no explanation!"
"I have an explanation," Bruce said as he put on his cowl, making him unreadable. "My judgment was compromised. I put myself else above my own city, and that will never, ever happen again."
Clark's stomach dropped. "It's not your fault, Bruce," he tried to say. "I'm-"
Batman slammed his hand into the wall, cracking the crystal and splintering his gauntlet. "I could have stopped him!" he cried. "I could have intercepted him! Defused the bomb! I could have saved those damn kids! But instead I was off with- with-"
He blamed him, Superman realized. Batman blamed Superman for those kids, but how could he have known that a thousand miles away from the Fortress of Solitude, a psychopath was rigging a school bus with fireworks, waiting for The Batman to stop him? He couldn't have.
But more accurately, he could have. If he hadn't been wrapped up in Bruce's body, counting each scar with an intimate kiss, tasting his partner's gooseflesh, feeling each and every heartbeat through his hot skin, studying each and every color in his lover's eyes… if he hadn't been listening only to their own moans, their own giggles, their own gasps, then maybe he would have heard the desperate buzzing from Batman's belt. Maybe he would have heard the screams.
"I…I didn't know," Clark's voice wavered as he followed Batman outside to the waiting Batplane. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that was what would…"
"I don't blame you," Bruce snapped. "I let this happen."
"How could you have known?"
Batman sat himself down roughly in the pilot's seat. "I could have been there. In Gotham. Alone," he added, and Clark's heart almost stopped.
"It's not your responsibility to stalk Gotham every night, waiting for a crime to stop."
"Yes it is," said Batman, and promptly slammed his door and took off.