The Full Vermontie
by Darklady
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't own the Daily Planet. ( Wish I did, but hey.) DC owns the characters. Bruce Wayne owns the Daily Planet, for which he is duly grateful.
Location: Hornet universe, but nothing happening here.
Rated: PG-13 for adult ( actually rather juvenile) implications.
Archive: Please ask first.
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
"Clark!"
Superstrength was not superbalance, and Clark had to float a bit to keep his feet under him as Dick Grayson tackled him at the door of the Daily Planet's editorial offices.
"Dick?" Not that he didn't recognize the young man, but...
"Where have you been?" Dick half-followed, half-pulled Clark into an empty office. "I got here last night but you weren't home and Lois said..."
"Flood in China. Forest fire in Brazil." Clark answered, making the universal gesture for `keep your voice down'. "Flash had Watchtower duty if..."
"No. It wasn't a disaster. At least not like that." Dick sat back on the edge of the desk. Hard. "Let Wally find out and it might be but...."
Not good. If there was some situation that the Flash couldn't handle?
"What is it?"
Dick pushed back his hair, openly forcing himself into at least surface calm. "You remember that fight with the squad of Chemo-clones three days back?"
"Right." No loss of life -thankfully - but it had taken both the Justice League and the Titians to clean up the mess before the slime-spewing similacurla disintegrated half the maple syrup production of the Northeast. Which Clark would have taken personally, having an affection for his moms' farmhouse breakfasts. But which - Alfred's waffles or not - didn't explain the younger heroes current consternation.
"You remember the acid they were spraying around?"
"Too clearly." It nearly burned off Wonder Woman's armor. Superman had surrendered his cape, and Diana had finished the fight in a makeshift toga, but for a moment things had been decidedly NC-17. Of course, that might have been the distraction that had changed the balance of the battle. Not that Kal would ever mention that to a team mate. Or to Lois.
"She wasn't the only one."
"You?" Dick didn't seem injured. At least not from the strength of that opening tackle. But?
"Bruce?"
"Uh... he was...."
"Hurt?" Now it was Clark that had to suppress his fidgets. Bruce Wayne - damn it - was mortal. Human. Batman hadn't checked in with the Watchtower medi-computers, transporting instead directly back to his Cave, but that could mean anything from a golf date to Code Blue injuries.
"Not exactly. Just...." Dick's fingers plucked at his sweat shirt at just above waist level. "His suit. Like Diana."
"So?" Clark didn't want to be rude, but Bruce was a big boy, and if he wasn't burned? Dick was hardly a blushing schoolgirl to panic about seeing Bruce in his Bat-briefs. So to speak. Especially as - after twenty years of sharing a Cave - he had to have seen Bruce in a good deal less.
"Nothing, I thought. He got hit. He shed the armor, which was risky, but the clone had blown his load. So to speak. Batman hit back and... crack. Fight over. We bagged the clone, neutralized the acid, and... I ... thought that was it. That it was over. Well - it was - fight wise. But... I also thought that we were alone. So - PR wise?" Dick stood, pacing. "Next morning I got a call from Jimmy. Olson, you know? He said he had heard from Alice at the Coast City Star who heard from Joe at KRAP that a reporter had caught the fight. That she was trying to sell some `special' photos of Batman. They didn't buy them, but Jimmy said that he had seen the photog in Metropolis. I tracked her down, but she said he had already sold the negatives here."
"To the Planet?" Clark frowned. Perry usually didn't go for `shock' photographs, but the Planet hadn't had any staff at the Chemo story (Well, none that could admit to to it with a byline ) so maybe - if the pictures were dramatic enough. Although Clark couldn't imagine what could be unless? "The mask?"
"Survived intact." Dick paused, shivering slightly. "That was my first thought, but his identity was still covered. That's about all that was, but... his face didn't show."
And Dick was familiar enough with all the other parts that the face would have been where he looked first. Or least least second. Clark shook his head. "Then I don't see the problem."
Bruce had his repressed side. Hell - all of his sides made Torquamada look like a hedonist. And Greta Garbo was - in comparison - a publicity hound. But he wasn't body - modest. No guy who ran around in high-tech long-johns could be.
"The problem is that *he* trusted *me* to clean up the site - and I blew it. I should have caught the so-called journalist and had those shots before I left the area."
"These things happen."
"Not to him." Dick turned. "Do YOU want to be around Bruce if they hit the Investigator?" He resumed pacing, faster this time. "Clark - I need those pictures. Buy, them steal then - I don't care. Burn them, bury then, pitch them past Pluto, anything it takes, but *get* those pictures.
"OK. OK." Clark held up his hands. "I don't know why Perry bought them, but it's no big deal. It's not like Batman getting bruised is had news." Clark give Dick the little smile that meant `no offense'. "I'll just tell him that Superman told me that the Justice League requests they be pulled and..." Leaning over, Clark picked up the office phone and punched an inside
extension. "Sheri? Did some freelancer come in yesterday. Sold Perry some Batman shots?"
"Nah." The voice crackled back over the speakerphone. "She tried, but the were crap. Perry told her to peddle it downstairs."
"Thanks, Sheri." Clark clicked the line off. "See Dick. No sweat. Perry didn't even buy them, so..." About then the second half of Sheri's sentence hit - and the super-smile fluttered. "OH lord."
Dick looked at Clark. Uncertain.
"Downstairs?"
Clark looked at Dick. Horrified.
"The Weekly Investigator."
"Weekly!" Dick grasped at straws. "That means it comes out on ..?
"Thursday."
"Which is.." It wasn't a question.
"Today." It wasn't an answer.
"Holy...." Dick buried his face in his hands.
"Shit." Clark finished. Walking over to the pile of galley proofs, Clark pulled the still damp strike off of of this weeks Investigator from the inky pile. "Dick?Maybe you'd like to stay over with Lois and me for a few days?"
"Wa? Why?" Dick blinked. Twice. "It cant be that bad." His voice wavered between hope and it's opposite. "Can it?"
Clark held out the paper.
There - on the front - was a full page picture of the Bat in his famous mask and cape. The mask. The cape. The belt. The boots. Other then that?
Well, the only other thing on the page was a twenty point block headline.
*The Full Vermontie*
*********
KKR 2003
by Darklady
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't own the Daily Planet. ( Wish I did, but hey.) DC owns the characters. Bruce Wayne owns the Daily Planet, for which he is duly grateful.
Location: Hornet universe, but nothing happening here.
Rated: PG-13 for adult ( actually rather juvenile) implications.
Archive: Please ask first.
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
"Clark!"
Superstrength was not superbalance, and Clark had to float a bit to keep his feet under him as Dick Grayson tackled him at the door of the Daily Planet's editorial offices.
"Dick?" Not that he didn't recognize the young man, but...
"Where have you been?" Dick half-followed, half-pulled Clark into an empty office. "I got here last night but you weren't home and Lois said..."
"Flood in China. Forest fire in Brazil." Clark answered, making the universal gesture for `keep your voice down'. "Flash had Watchtower duty if..."
"No. It wasn't a disaster. At least not like that." Dick sat back on the edge of the desk. Hard. "Let Wally find out and it might be but...."
Not good. If there was some situation that the Flash couldn't handle?
"What is it?"
Dick pushed back his hair, openly forcing himself into at least surface calm. "You remember that fight with the squad of Chemo-clones three days back?"
"Right." No loss of life -thankfully - but it had taken both the Justice League and the Titians to clean up the mess before the slime-spewing similacurla disintegrated half the maple syrup production of the Northeast. Which Clark would have taken personally, having an affection for his moms' farmhouse breakfasts. But which - Alfred's waffles or not - didn't explain the younger heroes current consternation.
"You remember the acid they were spraying around?"
"Too clearly." It nearly burned off Wonder Woman's armor. Superman had surrendered his cape, and Diana had finished the fight in a makeshift toga, but for a moment things had been decidedly NC-17. Of course, that might have been the distraction that had changed the balance of the battle. Not that Kal would ever mention that to a team mate. Or to Lois.
"She wasn't the only one."
"You?" Dick didn't seem injured. At least not from the strength of that opening tackle. But?
"Bruce?"
"Uh... he was...."
"Hurt?" Now it was Clark that had to suppress his fidgets. Bruce Wayne - damn it - was mortal. Human. Batman hadn't checked in with the Watchtower medi-computers, transporting instead directly back to his Cave, but that could mean anything from a golf date to Code Blue injuries.
"Not exactly. Just...." Dick's fingers plucked at his sweat shirt at just above waist level. "His suit. Like Diana."
"So?" Clark didn't want to be rude, but Bruce was a big boy, and if he wasn't burned? Dick was hardly a blushing schoolgirl to panic about seeing Bruce in his Bat-briefs. So to speak. Especially as - after twenty years of sharing a Cave - he had to have seen Bruce in a good deal less.
"Nothing, I thought. He got hit. He shed the armor, which was risky, but the clone had blown his load. So to speak. Batman hit back and... crack. Fight over. We bagged the clone, neutralized the acid, and... I ... thought that was it. That it was over. Well - it was - fight wise. But... I also thought that we were alone. So - PR wise?" Dick stood, pacing. "Next morning I got a call from Jimmy. Olson, you know? He said he had heard from Alice at the Coast City Star who heard from Joe at KRAP that a reporter had caught the fight. That she was trying to sell some `special' photos of Batman. They didn't buy them, but Jimmy said that he had seen the photog in Metropolis. I tracked her down, but she said he had already sold the negatives here."
"To the Planet?" Clark frowned. Perry usually didn't go for `shock' photographs, but the Planet hadn't had any staff at the Chemo story (Well, none that could admit to to it with a byline ) so maybe - if the pictures were dramatic enough. Although Clark couldn't imagine what could be unless? "The mask?"
"Survived intact." Dick paused, shivering slightly. "That was my first thought, but his identity was still covered. That's about all that was, but... his face didn't show."
And Dick was familiar enough with all the other parts that the face would have been where he looked first. Or least least second. Clark shook his head. "Then I don't see the problem."
Bruce had his repressed side. Hell - all of his sides made Torquamada look like a hedonist. And Greta Garbo was - in comparison - a publicity hound. But he wasn't body - modest. No guy who ran around in high-tech long-johns could be.
"The problem is that *he* trusted *me* to clean up the site - and I blew it. I should have caught the so-called journalist and had those shots before I left the area."
"These things happen."
"Not to him." Dick turned. "Do YOU want to be around Bruce if they hit the Investigator?" He resumed pacing, faster this time. "Clark - I need those pictures. Buy, them steal then - I don't care. Burn them, bury then, pitch them past Pluto, anything it takes, but *get* those pictures.
"OK. OK." Clark held up his hands. "I don't know why Perry bought them, but it's no big deal. It's not like Batman getting bruised is had news." Clark give Dick the little smile that meant `no offense'. "I'll just tell him that Superman told me that the Justice League requests they be pulled and..." Leaning over, Clark picked up the office phone and punched an inside
extension. "Sheri? Did some freelancer come in yesterday. Sold Perry some Batman shots?"
"Nah." The voice crackled back over the speakerphone. "She tried, but the were crap. Perry told her to peddle it downstairs."
"Thanks, Sheri." Clark clicked the line off. "See Dick. No sweat. Perry didn't even buy them, so..." About then the second half of Sheri's sentence hit - and the super-smile fluttered. "OH lord."
Dick looked at Clark. Uncertain.
"Downstairs?"
Clark looked at Dick. Horrified.
"The Weekly Investigator."
"Weekly!" Dick grasped at straws. "That means it comes out on ..?
"Thursday."
"Which is.." It wasn't a question.
"Today." It wasn't an answer.
"Holy...." Dick buried his face in his hands.
"Shit." Clark finished. Walking over to the pile of galley proofs, Clark pulled the still damp strike off of of this weeks Investigator from the inky pile. "Dick?Maybe you'd like to stay over with Lois and me for a few days?"
"Wa? Why?" Dick blinked. Twice. "It cant be that bad." His voice wavered between hope and it's opposite. "Can it?"
Clark held out the paper.
There - on the front - was a full page picture of the Bat in his famous mask and cape. The mask. The cape. The belt. The boots. Other then that?
Well, the only other thing on the page was a twenty point block headline.
*The Full Vermontie*
*********
KKR 2003