"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.

Nine: Backhand

            "You always liked a French vanilla latte' on a rainy day, master Bruce…" Alfred sighed, interrupting Bruce's meditated stare.

            Slightly turning his head with no expression, "It's not raining."

            "Then let it." Alfred groaned, there was little he could do for now. He had tried to motivate Bruce, but perhaps after the services his attitude would pick up.

            The portrait was now taunting Bruce with its impeccable smiling family. He was caving to the pain and he wasn't about to care otherwise. This was it, he was going to live the rest of his life knowing that he could have done something and he didn't. His parents would never be happy, even wherever they were after death, he knew they were angry. And he was all to blame.

            "Let it rain…" Bruce whispered. He jumped at the abrupt sound of a click of a shotgun behind his head. He raised his hands up without any direction and slowly turned with a blank face.

            "What are you going to do…?" Bruce sternly looked up shocked, "…Barbara!?"

            She stood with tears rolling down her cheeks, her eyes bloodshot, her lips quivered as she struggled to speak, "I can't stop myself…"

            "This is Kaminski! Put the gun down, he can't control you, whatever he did, he's gone now!" Bruce walked back with his hands up, "You do not want to do this!"

            "The money's been deposited in my account! If I don't do this…then he'll personally come after me! I can't stop it! He's going to destroy my life!" The gun shivered in her hands as the barrel seemed to glare at Bruce.

            "He's in a maximum security cell, he can't get to anyone. He has no-"

            "Did you not see the news today!? Bill crashed Lionel Luthor's helicopter into the grand plaza downtown! Bill! Things went wrong, but people could have died! I don't want that happening to me!" She moved closer to him, "I'm sorry…"

            "You're right," Bruce dropped his hands; "I have nothing left, just kill me too. That'll make everything better."

            "No, it won't…" she sighed, "You are it for this town-gone to hell! I'm sorry…" Her tears came down as her grip on the barrel of the gun loosened.

            Bruce stopped, was the reverse psychology working? Sure, the pressures of life had driven him to sit in a chair all day staring at some dusty portrait, but he didn't want to die.

            But Barbara's mind flickered and the thoughts of her son and life being ruined by all this came back, she had to do this, "I'm sorry…" her grip tightened and the gun rose to Bruce's chest.

            Out of the madness of this already insane night the giant glass window in the room shattered open, it was Clark and Michelle, with Kaminski in hand.

            "Don't bother Barbara!" Kaminski shouted as Clark and Michelle raced up to restrain her. She turned and out of mass confusion began to fire the gun everywhere; Michelle ran up behind her and kicked her shin, causing Barbara to fall onto the end table next to the red chair.

            "This is over," Clark smiled at Bruce, but Bruce offered no reaction. Michelle strapped handcuffs onto Barbara and yelled out her rights, the Wayne customized alarm system was now blaring throughout the manor. Clark looked over at Kaminski, who squirmed in his straightjacket and began to laugh at the madness before him.

            "What's so funny?" Bruce glared at Kaminski from across the room, finally facing the enemy.

            "Oh…nothing…" Kaminski chuckled, looking over at the portrait and back at the lonely Bruce. "Perhaps my mission was accomplished after all."

            "Son of a bitch…" Bruce sighed, "You're the one on the floor, I'm still standing."
            "Just shut up Kaminski, you're through…" Clark crossed his arms and just overlooked him.

            "Oh, but I have just begun to play! Gotham is my sandbox and you are my pink little shovels!" He rolled around, and with a snap, the jacket eased off his body. Michelle glanced off of her attention with Barbara and ran up to him, but was too late and his backhand met her face. "Sorry girly, gotta fly!" She picked herself off the floor and whipped out her gun at him as he jumped out the broken window.

            "Don't bother pulling that trigger," Bruce stopped her, "Leave this up to me." He motioned for Clark to follow and they ran, hopping out the window after him. She ripped up her radio and called for the backup waiting outside to go after him with much caution. She respected Bruce's want for revenge, and she hoped that he would have his chance to receive it.

            The two men ran without caution, but the all too familiar noise of a helicopter sounded from above them. It headed over them and dropped down a rope ladder into the fields not too far ahead. Kaminski hopped from the brush onto it, motioning to whoever was on board to pull up.

            Clark resisted his temptation to speed and kept up with Bruce's humanly fast pace. The helicopter swiftly lifted and Kaminski climbed the ladder cautiously, but the tug of Bruce from below halted his climb.

            "Aren't you too old to play army men?" Kaminski chuckled, kicking Bruce's face and knocking him off the ladder back into the brush. Clark sped up and caught him from hitting the hard ground.

            Clark angrily glared at the helicopter as Bruce jumped back on his feet. He gave Bruce a concerned look, but Bruce seemed untarnished.

            "We'll get him. We'll get him, come on." Bruce began to walk toward the garage and reached for his cell phone. "Damn." He looked over to Clark.

            "Smallville." Clark reminded him.

            The breeze blew back Bruce's jacket and the long tall grass ruffled. The cool summer night was finally settling in as the sun finally tucked itself behind the dark clouds of Gotham's nightlife. A familiar voice shouted from the window, Michelle.

            "The backup wasn't fast enough! But we have a trace as to where he might be going!" She looked over to the Clock tower in the Gotham skyline and crossed her arms, "The clock tower! Gordon has every cruiser, helicopter, and officer headed that way. So hurry!" She turned back to the room now filled with officers, Alfred offering them refreshments.

            "Let's go." Bruce pointed to the garage as the clock tower rung out for the new hour.

            "Are you sure you want to do this?" Clark yelled through the wind.

            "I haven't been sure of anything today, let's just see what happens!" Bruce pulled out his keys and the garage door flung open, the red Ferrari automatically turning on at the push of another button.

            "Let us watch the psychopath try and outrun this thing," Bruce grinned and revved the engine, who said revenge couldn't be stylish?