"Gotham"
A 'Smallville' fan fiction
All characters are owned by DC Comics, Warner Brothers, and their respective partners.
'Superman' was created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.
'Batman' was created by Bob Kane
Timeframe: The summer between "Vortex" and "Heat" in season two
Disclaimer: I own plenty, but not these characters (not even Kaminski, not yet anyway…)
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Instead of having Bruce Wayne come to Smallville, I wanted Clark Kent to come to Gotham. I wanted to re-imagine Batman's origin to a very short extent. You will see many, many of the same things about Batman's past you've always heard. But if you look at it, there is room to grow in the origin of Batman, and since Smallville is all about origins, why not introduce another of the World's Finest? I'm not going to pull a JJ Abrams and make Bruce homosexual, have Alfred be a robot, or the existence of Wayne Enterprises a mere myth. I loved these characters since I was very young, starting with Batman: The Animated Series and with this fiction I am just putting the characters in different places. What if Clark Kent witnessed the murder of Bruce's parents, and who exactly was behind it? I'm only bringing you a "what if?" story that hopefully will entertain and make you happy when it ends.
Three: "A Pinch of Paranoia"
"And that concludes the grand tour of the ever expanding…Wayne Enterprises," Bruce smiled, as the three men gazed over the balcony of the main lobby of the building. The building was a technical marvel, and the lobby's atrium expanded seventeen floors. Clark looked over at Lex, whom seemed squeamish as he looked over the edge.
"What a wonderful place you have here," Lex turned from the ledge; "Want to merge?" he jokingly shrugged.
"I doubt papa Luthor would approve…" Bruce reminded, "One day this will all be mine, then maybe I'll think about it…" he laughed.
Bruce was interrupted by his cell phone, a text message from Barbara popped up, reminding him to get back to the office.
"I'll meet up with you two at the manor around eight, I'm sure we can find a nice place to have dinner."
"Sounds great," Lex glared, turning to Clark, "Stare over that ledge any longer and you might make me sick."
Clark quickly turned, "Sorry, I can't help but feel somewhat out of place here."
"Somewhat? Come on Clark, I'm not expecting you to feel at home here, and even I'm feeling a little out of place."
"Well, beats the chores," Clark was lying through his smile; chores were of no concern to him, well, not often.
"Of course, let's go find trouble, shall we?"
"We shall," Clark smiled; they were finally getting out of that mammoth enterprise. They both strode into the elevator and into parking garage 2B where Lex's beautiful sports car awaited.
"You want to fit in Clark? I know just the place…"
The gray rusted walls of the Gotham housing facilities in the failed projects of suburban Gotham City would have been a great place for Kaminski to run his operations. But Kaminski was not the average psychopath. He'd rather hide out in the rusted golden walls of the Gotham clock tower; no one ever went up there anyway.
"No, I need you to do this tonight!" He yelled into the phone.
"You've got an attitude Kaminski," the man on the opposite end of the line calmly reminded him; he was a calm person with all the values of the everyday man….except he killed people for decent pay.
"Well, when I offer you as much as I have and you pull out the day of…"
"It is not my fault the wife had to go into labor today."
"Oh?" Kaminski quietly chuckled, "Then you won't have any problem…"
"What do you mean?"
"…They're going to visit him tonight, getting them out of the way shouldn't take you away from your wife for too long…" his chuckle grew to a calm laugh.
"Well, then I expect payment in my mailbox tomorrow morning…"
"But of course," Kaminski grinned, forgetting to mention that if all three of the Wayne clan weren't killed, cash would be the least of worry in the assassin's mailbox.
"Expect them around six; they'll be walking together like any good family would, understand?"
"Completely."
"Have fun," Kaminski laughed as he heard the phone click off. "I will be a legend."
"This is too tight," Clark struggled to take off the suit jacket, "I'll try the gray one."
"Clark, we don't have all night, just pick out one and get it every color." Lex stopped himself, "I'm beginning to talk like my father."
"Don't worry," Clark smiled, "So am I… This one's perfect."
"Great," Lex turned and signaled to the clerk, "And don't worry about the bill, my treat."
"My dad would kill-"
"Your dad's not here."
"Well no," he was interrupted by the assistant handing him three colors of each suit. Each separately bagged firmly pressed.
"We'll stop by the penthouse so you can change."
"Lex, I don't think you should be doing this for me."
"Right, you are becoming your father," Lex smiled, "Accepting a little help here and there is no eternal sin, especially when you're in Gotham."
"You're right."
"When am I not? Don't answer that." He turned and motioned for Clark to follow him, and the journey through Gotham continued to Lex's penthouse, the same penthouse his mother would sometimes escape to when life got crazy.
"My mother used to joke that the only thing place needed was an in-house therapist."
Clark looked around, "This is…"
"Exquisite? My mother had much better taste than my father, and she even spent less."
"Seeing as she didn't import a castle brick by brick, I can see your point," Clark ran his fingers along the wall.
Lex glanced at his watch, "Better get changed, the spare bedroom is down the hall and to the left corridor."
"I want a corridor at my house…"
"I still can't believe you hit him," Martha sighed, "the tabloids are going to have a field day." If there was one thing Martha Wayne needed, it was another annoying Barbara Walters interview about her family.
"Mom, for the last time, he jumped out in front of me." Bruce was always annoyed by his mother's concerned ignorance and avoidance of the complete truth.
Thomas clapped his phone shut, "That was Bill's doctor, and it was a very successful surgery."
"Oh that's wonderful," Martha sighed full of relief, "Have the police gotten any answers from him…?"
"Why do you think we're going to visit him, mom?" Bruce looked at her. They walked into the busy seventh floor and up to the still annoyed nurse at the desk.
"Good evening Mr. Wayne," she gleefully smiled, "Bill is relaxing and awake in 702."
"Tell me, has he had any visitors?" Thomas stared deep into her eyes.
"Kaminski was here." She frowned, flapping the papers on her clipboard.
"Gerald Kaminski?" Martha gasped.
"Yes, but we haven't yet determined if he actually has a relation to Bill," the nurse sighed, "He claimed to be his brother."
"That's quite strange," Thomas looked down; he was frightened by this news.
"The police were told, and they are doing everything to determine exactly why he was here, I assure you Mr. Wayne, the police are watching this case very closely…"
"Thanks for the reassurance, though lacking, I'll take it," Thomas forced a smile.
"Enjoy your visit," the nurse replied."
"We'll try…" Bruce coughed.
They walked down the same hallway Kaminski had hours earlier, down to room 702, not noticing the man patiently eyeing them from a seat on the lobby.
Martha was first through the door as she strode over to the bed, and silently greeted Bill. Bruce and Thomas followed, Bruce pulled up three chairs next to the bed, as Bill shuffled and peered over above his neck brace.
"I'm so sorry…" he cried.
"We are quite dumbfounded by this, Bill, and we are truly sorry…but we have many questions…" Thomas glared.
Martha took Bill's hand, "We just want to know…why?" Bruce just quietly stared, watching his mother work her motherly magic.
"The night before…" Bill whispered, "I was woken up by a knock on the door. If I remember right it was around one in the morning," he paused to catch his breath. "Now, I remember a figure in the doorway, with some sort of device…the outfit he was wearing was green or…black." He paused again and looked around, "I thought it was that guy you hear about, you know, that Riddler guy?" Everyone nodded, "He shot some sort of ray at me, some green ray powered by some greenish rock on the top of the gun. I was blasted to the floor and the next thing I know I'm in a blurry trance outside your manor…jumping out in front of Bruce's car…"
"That sounds like mind control at its very best," Bruce chimed in, looking at his father.
"We know Kaminski came and visited you, could he have anything to do with this?" Martha glared at Thomas for the blunt question.
Bill stopped, improvisation after surgery was no fun task, "Gerald and I go way back, he showed me the ropes at work."
Thomas just nodded, "Well, we'll aid you in anyway, whether it be financial or what not, it was obviously not you in our drive." He got up, "Ready?" they both nodded, "Good luck Bill, I'll contact you in a few days."
"Good luck, Bill…" Bruce sighed.
"Best wished," Martha slowly let go of his hand.
Thomas dashed into the hallway followed by his family; the business man was working overtime. He steadily walked forward, not bothering to turn and speak. "He's lying…"
"I don't think so Tom…"
"Kaminski is behind this, I knew I should have had him taken care of years ago!" He stopped himself, realizing he was getting too loud.
"This "riddle guy" has been in Arkham for years now, and there has been no word of his escape, mom…"
"But he seemed so sincere…" She crossed her arms.
"Come on, we have to get out of here." Thomas looked around.
"And go where?"
"Somewhere we can't be easily found; I'll call Commissioner Gordon, Martha, call Alfred and tell him to pick us up at the front door."
"I'm meeting Lex and Clark for dinner at eight…"
"Well, son, safety is a better option at this point; god knows what Kaminski has plans for next…"
"Thomas, are you saying this whole mess was merely a trap?"
"That's sick," Bruce glanced around the room.
"He is a psychopath."
They split up to perform their separate tasks, as the assassin sitting in the lobby held his phone to his ear, listening…waiting…
"Go time."