***THIS STORY HAS BEEN EDITED AS OF AUG.4/2016***

Also check out Youtube for a new JUSTICE LEAGUE ABRIDGED Series that is appearing on the JUSTICE LABRIDGED channel. I am unable to link the actual site in this chapter; but there is a link to EPISODE #1 in my profile. Thank you again for reading :)

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Chapter 7:

Kal stumbled back into the abandoned Wayne House. His jacket and shirt were torn, barely hanging off of him. He felt weak, like the weight of the world was on his eyelids. He wanted nothing more than to collapse onto his mattress and go to sleep. Kal sat down on his bench and reached out for his pillow before stretching out on the bench and making himself as comfortable as possible. Before Kal knew it he was drifting off to sleep.

The Kent family all covered their eyes from the light that spewed from the alien craft, and when they looked up the image of a tall man, clad in white robes with the S symbol on his chest, with long jet black hair and a black beard with silver chin. Clark stood in awe as he gazed into the man's eyes…he had the same bright blue eye's as him. "Father?" Clark whispered…

The figure in front of him seemed to phase out momentarily. He seemed to turn his gaze and look directly at Clark. "Kal-El." He spoke, his words were fuzzy, and Clark had trouble making out what he was saying. "You…son of Krypton… only son…impending invasion…Zod…destroy…planet…" Clark couldn't believe what he was hearing. From what the image was saying it filled Clark's mind with images of doom, Clark didn't want to believe what he was hearing…was he sent here to be Earth destroyer?

"NO!" Clark screamed as he stuck at the image of his true Father. Clark's fist went right through the image and hit the craft itself, knocking several of the small glass fragments of the ship onto the ground, but they did not shatter like regular glass. They simply bounced off the ground and rolled into the walls of the cellar. Clark turned around and rushed out of the cellar as fast as he could and ran inside. He could hear his parents…Martha and Jonathan… screaming after him…chasing him.

Clark burst into the kitchen of the family house. He could feel his heart pounding, and his eyes were burning with the tears he was trying to hold back. He didn't want to be Kal-El from Krypton. He wanted nothing to do with an invasion or the destruction of any planet. He just wanted to be Clark Kent.

Martha and Jonathan came in soon after. "Clark!" Martha called out. The grief in her voice mirrored what Clark was feeling. Martha's arms wrapped tight around Clark as he let the tears begin to stream out of him.

"I don't want this. I don't want to be this anymore Ma." Clark could hear his mother sobbing with him. "I just want to be normal." Clark held his adopted mother by her shoulders and gently pressed her away from him. "Why would you two wait so long to show me that? Why would you have ever shown me that?" Clark's voice rose in anger as he let go of his mother and began to stare his adopted father in the face.

"Clark, I" Jonathan said weakly as his son extended an accusing finger towards him.

"Do you think I want to be a destroyer? Did you think I would happy to know the truth that you've been hiding?" Jonathan's face became contorted with a mix of confusion and sadness.

"Clark, I only wanted to show you the ship…I've never seen it do that before." Clark rolled his eyes.

"I'm not even Clark…I'm Kal-El." Clark said with an air of arrogance to Jonathan. Martha was tearing up as Jonathan reached out to Clark.

"I don't care what that thing said to you…you're my son! You're Clark Kent!" Jonathan grabbed a hold of both of his shoulders, but Clark didn't want to be touched.

"Let go!" He screamed, giving his adopted father a gentle push. Jonathan flew across the kitchen table and into the china cabinet. Jonathan fell to the floor as fine china shattered all around him. The cabinets legs buckled and it began to topple over onto of Jonathan.

Clark moved as fast as he had run when he had accidentally hurt Whitney and caught the cabinet before it landed on his adopted Father. Clark pulled Jonathan up in his arms; he was bleeding from a wound on his head and he was unconscious. Clark looked up to Martha and saw a look on her face of utmost terror. Clark's heart sank as he became locked in that moment. With the woman who raised and loved him too afraid to help her husband because of what her son did…of what her son is.

Clarks' eyes shut closed as tears began to stream out of them. He lifted his father into his arms and began to run with him as fast as he could. As Clark ran he felt the same sensation he had felt when he had run away from Lana, like the whole world was slowing down around him. As Clark ran he opened his eyes, as he did several tear drops fell from his face and remained suspended in the air. Clark was baffled for a moment as the tear lingered in the air, refusing to fall to the ground.

"Hey you!" Clark heard someone yell as the tear fell to the ground. Clark turned around to see that he stood in front of Smallville Hospital.

Before long Clark was waiting on a chair in a bright room. He looked down to his hands where his fathers' blood still covered them. Several of the staff had recommended Clark to wash himself off, but he was too lost in his own thoughts to listen to them. All he could think about was his mother, and that look she had given him…all he could hear was the steady sound of his fathers' heartbeat. He tried to tune it out, but the harder he tried the louder it would pound in his skull.

"Mrs. Kent has just arrived. Find the boy for me." Clark heard the doctor say to the nurse two floors below him through the pounding in his skull. Clark rose from his seat in fear; he looked around the hospital desperately for a moment, unsure of what to do. Suddenly he had only one instinct. He turned on his spot and ran.

He ran down the stairs and out the back entrance of the hospital. He ran past Smallville High, where he had just graduated from not two week ago. He ran past Pete Ross's house, where he could hear the sounds of Pete and his brother playing basketball. He ran faster and faster, away from his adopted parents, away from the truth they had revealed to him. He did not ever want to be the person he was sent here to be, and the only way to make sure he didn't hurt the people he cared about was to leave them behind…

Kal shifted on the bench; lost in his mind, as the hours of the night rolled away for him… But not for others…

S

Gordon worked away feverishly at his desk. He looked to his wrist watch; it was already 11:30 PM. Gordon rubbed his nose where his glasses would rest; another night he missed with his kids…with Barbra's kids. Jim looked to a picture on his desk of his wife…Jim lifted the photo by it's frame and gazed longingly at her face…and her long brown hair, soft brown eyes. Gordon quickly wiped a tear away as it formed under his eye. He turned back to the personnel files on everybody who was working communications the night Joker made his call. Gordon had been looking into it for days, and had figured out that someone had logged in under a trainee badge and took the Jokers call from a private number…someone was working for Joker on the inside.

Just then Detective Harvey Bullock knocked gently on Gordon's door before entering. "Hey Commish, I've got something for you." Bullock was a large man. Standing 6'2 and in relatively good shape, he had short brown hair with rough facial features and dark brown eyes. Gordon had suspected him to be the Batman for a while based on his anti-vigilante outlook, and his constant disappearing acts; but ruled him out after discovering Bullock was working with I.A. to take down the old Commissioner…not to mention seeing both Bullock and Batman at the same time.

"What is it Bullock? I'm not paying you for social calls." Gordon said, pointing his pen at Bullock and motioning his to sit down.

"Heh, if I made social calls Gordon you wouldn't be able to afford it…I know I couldn't afford me on my salary." Bullock grinned as Gordon seemed to ease up a bit. Bullock had always been good at reading people, and could tell Gordon seemed stressed out. "I just got back from the disturbance call we got from the Dog Patch. It was him…" Bullock watched as Gordon dropped what he was doing and gave Bullock his undivided attention. "I questioned around a little bit, a few people admit to having seen the Clown, but no one would give an official statement…which is not surprising though." Gordon rose form his chair. "What did you find?" Gordon said in a rushed and half irritated tone.

"We have over forty of the Jokers men in custody; almost half of them are alive." Gordon's face became furiously red. "What did you do Bullock?" Bullock put his hands out in front of him as he began to defend himself. "It wasn't me Boss. Most of the goons we found throughout the shelter were ok, but we found one hallway that looked like it had been a war zone at some point. Gordon there was at least eighteen bodies strewn around that hallway. Once we get the autopsy reports we'll know exactly what killed them..." Gordon leaned forward on his desk as he began to take in what Bullock was telling him. "Commish, who ever did this was going after the Joker. I think it's safe to say Batman was somehow involved…"

"That's not Batman's M.O. Bullock." Gordon began. "He lets me know when he's been to a crime scene that my men are working on…and he doesn't leave dead bodies in his wake." Bullock reached into his pocket and pulled out an evidence bag with several small metal bits in it. Gordon tossed Bullock an inquisitive glance before opening the bag and removing the small metal bits. As Gordon pulled the bits out he was amazed by what they were; and the fact that this was the second time in a week he had seen something like this. "Those are a hand full of bullets we found around the scene. Each one is a different caliber of bullet fired from a varying range of weapons. Each one of those bullets is crushed flat on its nose…I didn't see anything down there strong enough to do this to a round fired from an M14." Gordon examined the bullets, and remembered the feel of the shotgun shells he had found by the dock... there was more to this than Gordon knew.

"Was there any sign of the Joker?" Bullock ran his hand through his hair. "No…but there were defiantly signs that he had been there." At that point Bullock threw a picture onto Gordon's desk; it was a picture of The Joker, bound in a straight jacket with his therapist sitting on his lap giving him a kiss on the cheek. Gordon looked up at Bullock with a look of pure seriousness. "I want someone watching her around the clock. I want to know everything she does, everywhere she goes, everyone she sees…understood?" Bullock gave Gordon a slight grin. "You got it Commish. I'll put Montoya and Drake on it. I want to back to the Jokers old hideout to see what else I can find."

As Bullock turned to leave the office, Gordon called out to him "Hey Bullock, one more thing." Bullock turned around again and faced Gordon. "What do you think of Honest Ed?" The image of a skinny man with a long nose came into Bullocks mind. "Honest Eddy? I was investigating him while I was doing some digging on Loeb last year. I was positive he was taking money from Loeb, but I could never prove it." Gordon was looking at the files he had been glancing at before Bullock had entered the room. "I'm sure he's still into something on the side, no one can afford suits that nice on a Detective salary…" Gordon glanced up to Harvey for a moment, then back down to his files. "Thanks Harvey, that's all." Bullock turned around, happily knowing that 'Honest Ed' was finally about to pay the due for constantly speaking in riddles…

Gordon sat back in his chair with the bag of flattened bullets still lying on his desk. Gordon shifted his chair from side to side as he decided that maybe talking to the Batman about this wouldn't be such a bad idea. Gordon pushed a button on his intercom. "Sheryl, could you please hold my calls for the next little while." "Yes Sir Commissioner." "And Sheryl…call in Detective Nygma… tell him I'd like to have a word with him."

S

Bruce leapt from his mother's grasp and lunged ahead, pretending to stab the evil doers in his parents' way. "None can match the skills of Zorro!" Bruce shouted as he made the killing blow to his invisible opponent. Thomas Wayne applauded his sons' bravery as Martha Wayne gave her hero his much earned kiss on the cheek.

Bruce walked, hand in hand with his parents as they made their way down the alleyway to where Thomas had parked his car. Thomas reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys and began to search for the one for his car as Martha arranged the hat on Bruce's head; which was filled with images from the film he had just seen; The Mark of Zorro.

Suddenly Bruce felt his mother's hands tighten around his chest. "Thomas!" She called out. Bruce looked up to see the shadow visage of a man emerging from the shadow, and Bruce's eyes focused on the shining magnum revolver he held in his hand…just like the one the villain from Zorro had used.

"Give me all your money, and anything valuable. Now!" The man's hand trembled as he cocked the gun back. Thomas looked from his wife, then down to his son, then back to the robber. "I'm going to take out my wallet and give it to you, okay?" The robber nodded his head furiously. Thomas removed his wallet from his jacket very slowly. After he did he began walking up to the robber, offering his wallet to him at arms length.

As Bruce watched his father surrender to the robber he glanced around; he did not hear the chimes of a church bell to call for Zorro, he did not hear the echoes of police sirens; and Bruce wondered how the Heroes would know they need them, how were they going to save them.

"How about you lady; what's in the purse?" The robber pointed his gun towards Martha, and when he did Thomas threw himself between the robber and his wife. Bruce felt his entire head shake as his father fell to the ground in front of him; blood spewing from his chest. Suddenly the shaking in Bruce's head was replaced by the high pitched scream of his mother, as she pulled Bruce behind her and pushed him to the ground. Then a second shot was fired, and Bruce watched as his mothers' pearls, covered in her blood, fell to the ground and rolled in all directions.

Bruce looked from his mother, to his father, to the man hidden in the shadows. Bruce's eyes focused on the magnum, blue steel reflecting moonlight, smoke still billowing out of the barrel.

"No!" Bruce almost leapt out of bed. His heart was pounding, sweat covered every inch of his body. Bruce tried to push the image out of his mind as he rolled over in his bed, placing a pillow on top of his head to help burry the images. Bruce tried to calm his breathing using meditative techniques he had learned; but it didn't work. He couldn't push the sounds from his mind…he couldn't fight it, not any longer.

Bruce rose from his bed and looked at the clock as the minute hand struck five past midnight; he grabbed his night robe and wrapped it quickly around himself. He had to get to the Cave, he had to go out; tonight! As Bruce made it way to the stairs he heard the sound of a door opening behind him. Bruce turned to see Dick Grayson standing in his bedroom doorframe.

"Are you okay Bruce?" Dick asked, concern evident in his tired voice. "I heard someone shouting. Was that you?" Bruce looked at the young boy, and couldn't help but remember that small boy from his dream. Bruce took a deep breath before he walked over to Dicks room. "I'm okay. Just had a bad dream, nothing to worry about." "Oh," Dick responded, "You can sleep in my bed if you want, just don't snore." Dick turned around, leaving his door slightly ajar so that Bruce could come in. Bruce couldn't help but laugh slightly to himself. "Thanks Dick, but I'm just going to go get some work done. You go back to bed." "Okay." Bruce heard Dick whisper back through the darkness. "And thanks for taking Barbra, James and I to the Water Park…best afternoon…ever." Dick released a small snort before drifting off back to sleep.

Bruce began walking down the stairs to the cave; but something was different. He no longer had the need to go out into the night and make someone pay…he had better things to do with his time.

Before long Bruce was in the Batcave, toiling away over his chemistry set to prepare enough anti-toxin to Jokers poison to inoculate over 1,500 people. Hours seemed to roll by as Bruce worked away, he knew that Lucious Fox; CEO of Wayne Industries, would be able to mass produce the anti-toxin, but Gordon had to be the one to make that call.

Bruce knew that Gordon had been investigating him, trying to find out if he was The Batman; and he wanted to make sure he gave him as little reason as possible to suspect him any further.

"Master Bruce? How long have you been awake?" Alfred said as he approached with one of Bruce's expensive suits. "Since midnight. I've finally finished with the anti-toxin. I'm going to take a batch to Lucious in the morning just in case it has to be mass produced in the near future." "It is morning Sir…Eight hours into it I'm afraid." Bruce looked back to Alfred, a grin perched on his face. "I guess I should get going then. Would you mind calling Lucious and telling him I'm on my way?" Bruce plucked up several vials of the anti-toxin, then walked by Alfred, grabbing the suit from his hands. "Are you not planning on fixing the elevator today Sir?" Alfred called out, annoyance bounding in his voice. "Not today, when I get back we're taking Dick to the Zoo." Bruce said as he walked away, putting on his suit as he did.

Alfred smiled to himself as Bruce walked down the dark corridor, as he realized this was the first time he had seen Bruce walk away in the cave in a suit that didn't have a cape and horns as accessories.

S

Bruce sped down the Gotham highway in his brand new Lotus Esprit Turbo. It was a brand new silver sports car which had been engineered from Italy. As Bruce drove he heard the loud smash of metal on metal. Looking over Bruce saw that a big rig had apparently lost control and had smashed into a second big rig right beside of it. The out of control truck push the second one up against Bruce's car and his car began to get tipped over onto its side.

Suddenly the out of control rig seemed to regain itself and pulled away from the second rig, but as it did its rear end clipped the second rig once more, giving it enough push to smash into the railing; and sending Bruce's car flying off the bridge, and into the murky Gotham Bay water below.