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Part II, Chapter IX**********************************************************
"'Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . .'"
Psalm 23:4. Clark immediately thought to himself. Once, in boredom, he memorized the psalms in the Bible, then set about reading up on all the world's religions. When reading about Siddharta, who became Buddha, he did wryly note that the Indian prince set about his journey after waking up surrounded by prostitutes. He had his own awakening at sixteen when he met Gotham's hookers, but it set him on a different journey. Certainly not feeling enlightened, he never found the answers to explain this world. No god would allow what he and Alfred saw every night for the past two years. They walked through death's shadow constantly. Everyone did. Why turn to God now? Why not every day, every hour, if these words were true.
"'Your rod and your staff . . .'"
Clark's thoughts turned to Alfred, blocking out Tim's voice. Alfred's cane. He grinned. A few weeks ago, Clark was chasing a murderer down the alley, close to where the Batmobile sat. Alfred heard them coming and stepped out just in time and tripped the man with his cane. Ever the gentleman, Alfred apologized, but tripped him again when he tried to stand.
The eighteen-year-old pulled himself back to the present when he realized Tim was now starting the Lord's Prayer.
"'Our Father which art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name . . ."
Bruce. His father might be in heaven, Clark wasn't so sure if he believed in such a place. He liked his mother's beliefs in this case; it was easier to reach the Elysian Fields it seemed, than Heaven. Was his real father even religious? Clark doubted that. He certainly wasn't. All of this seemed a waste. He realized once, about a year ago, that he was probably agnostic. Such knowledge gave him great relief—there was a word to describe to his doubts.
Death. How could he be dead anyway? Who dies "peacefully" in their sleep in this world? Clark saw death quite a bit on patrol. Death was violent. Death was a struggle. People died of stabbings, being battered and left to die slowly, from bullets, starvation, or freezing . . . he never saw a "peaceful death." Shaking his head slightly as he reaffirmed his disbelief, Clark abruptly stiffened when he realized Tim was almost done.
"'And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from the evil one: for Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.'"
He murmured an "Amen" along with Scott, but felt a pang of guilt knowing it wasn't sincere. God wasn't leading anyone from Darkseid. People freed themselves. He fought Parademons and Hunger Dogs on occasion and he never felt any higher beings. The only kingdom here was that of Darkseid's, an alien who, as Alfred described him once, "fancied himself a god." Darkseid also had all the power.
These words served comfort only to Tim. Clark watched the older man, whom he thought of as a brother; pat the dirt of the cave floor and murmur to the ground. Probably symbolic, as he and Scott finished the burial before Tim started reciting.
"Clark, wait."
Tears were in Tim's eyes, again. "Alfred," Tim paused, and tried again, "Alfred and I spoke about this . . . we never knew when the right time was."
Clark, trying to hide his impatience, "Tim, I need to leave for patrol. Can this wait until morning?"
Tim sniffed and blinked back his tears, as he made his way slowly to the case. The case. Clark was stunned. He wore black sweat pants and a black hooded sweatshirt when patrolling. He blended in better with the crowds. Ever since Alfred told him he wasn't yet ready to wear the symbol, his symbol, the young man stopped caring about a costume. The people he protected were more important.
The former Robin unlocked the glass encasement of the Bat costume.
"I think it's time."
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"I've got good news and bad news."
Batman regarded Scott coolly. "Well, I've good news."
"Good enough for me, let's hear yours first," Tim jumped in.
Reaching into the Batmobile, Batman emerged with a large box. He carried it over to Scott's workbench and set it down. Scott and Tim noticed the ring and shared a grin. Batman gave a quick nod, not wanting to call Harley's attention to the fact that he still had it.
"Whoa! This is from Apokolips!" Scott was already in the box, up to his elbows, pulling out the various weapons and gadgets. "How?"
"Harley knew where a group from Intergang had set up shop."
Tim and Scott looked at the one time jester in surprise. She shot them her biggest, smuggest grin.
"Well, this stuff certainly helps. I can use it . . . You can use it actually, once we've got the device ready."
"How is that?"
"It's almost complete, but I think I'll make a few more modifications, now that I have access to this." Scott gestured to the box.
"Good, but?"
"But, there is no way to program the interdimensional tube to take you to exactly where Superman and the Manhunter were sent."
Batman stared back, waiting for Plan B.
Scott glanced at Tim, who rolled his eyes before turning to Batman, "Scott's big plan is for you to get hit by Darkseid's Omega Beams."
Raising an eyebrow in amusement, Batman asked, "Is that all?"
"Well, that's the only way we can be sure you'll get sent to the same place. See, you carry our device with you. Once you find them, activate the portal from their dimension and return home."
Scott missed the flicker of surprise across Batman's face as he reached into the box again. Mr. Miracle had a lot of new toys with which to tinker.
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Diana stirred at the feel of a small hand on her shoulder. Not Darkseid, her brain immediately registered.
"Di! Wake up! It's time!" A hurried whisper. Tim. She sat up and clasped his hand.
"I'm ready." Grabbing her lasso, she shoved it into a pocket on her tunic. As soon as she stood, she felt a sudden pain in her belly.
"Oh Hera, no . . ."
"No what? What?"
She shook her head, as if to banish the contraction. Walking would be difficult. Biting her lip she followed the boy to the door.
"What about . . . the guards?"
"Diana? Are you in pain?"
"No. The guards. Do you have a plan?" Each word was a struggle.
Tim had a small grin as he watched through the small sliver of open door. "I found Kalibak's room and released him. That should keep the Parademons busy."
Diana's soft chuckle at Robin's ingenuity was abruptly halted when she felt another sharp pain. "Let's go."
Once the last Parademon outside her door ran towards the probable commotion, Tim grabbed her hand and led her in the opposite direction. She was impressed with how quickly he made this plan. After showing him where her former slaves left, he somehow found the time and opportunity to map those tunnels well in his mind. She had complete faith in him. The Fates had truly blessed her with his arrival.
He crouched and pulled away the loose tiles, revealing a sewer grate. She crouched as well and used what little was left of her super strength to yank the bars away. He hopped down, his excitement carrying him, then stepped aside to await her. With her near gestation belly, it would be a tight fit. She floated down and, pulling him close, she flew though the darkened tunnel.
"Tell me where to turn."
Tim squinted in the dark. "The second left, but I can't see anything right now. I was only down here during the day."
"It's alright. I can still see." Her words remained clipped as the pain returned, more intense than before.
They flew on in the dark for another five minutes or so, covering quite a bit of ground. Diana could feel the drop in elevation and knew they must be getting closer to the caves.
"We're passing under the Gotham River," Tim supplied, "These were actually railroad tunnels."
Diana bit her lip against the coming pain and nodded. Against her will, she shuddered as this contraction rolled through her.
"You're in labor!"
"Shh. . . Tim. We have to keep flying . . ." Her hearing could detect a distant scuffling echoing against the walls. The Hunger Dogs were on their trail.
The next contraction hit and she felt dampness all over her legs. Apparently, so did Tim.
"That's the amniotic fluid."
"You are . . . a good . . . student," she forced a smile.
"That kid's coming."
Swallowing back moan, she nodded quickly.
"Set us down."
"Can't. No time."
He wriggled out of her grip and fell to the ground in an awkward roll.
"Stop!"
Falling to the ground with even less grace than he, she rolled onto her back and groaned. "Alright. We'll do this quickly."
As the scuffling of the dogs' claws registered closer, she bit back the urge to tell Tim how quickly this had to be.
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His first night out in The Suit, he felt awkward. Uncomfortable even. He clenched and unclenched his fist a few times, marveling at the tightness of the kevlar-lined gloves. He wondered if his father's hands were smaller than his own. Shifting his weight a little, he was reminded of the heaviness of the boots. He stretched his neck as he continued his watch on the crowds below, but soon found himself distracted by the slight resistance of the cowl.
How did he fight in this?
Glancing at his chest, he winced a little. The bat symbol was definitely very cool, but the tightness of the costume left little to the imagination. With that thought, he shifted his weight again, trying not to think about the black underwear on the outside of his kevlar tights.
He did like the belt, despite the fact that it was bright yellow against a black and gray costume—that was one thing he really didn't understand. He had already gone through all the contents back at the cave, and Scott even added a few things. Clark shoved a few snacks in, as his metabolism was pretty quick and it was a long night.
He missed his sweats and sneakers.
Arguing in the passageway behind him. He turned and flew down, the big black cape fluttering. The cape was pretty cool as well.
A wiry man in a heavy coat looked up at Clark, his horror obvious. "The Bat . . . oh lord . . . hell no." Clark never had to throw a punch—the man ran.
He turned to see a most unusually dressed woman before him. Before he could ask if she was all right, she squealed in laughter.
"BATSY!" She danced around in a circle, continuing her high-pitched cackle.
In his surprise, he blurted out, "You knew my father?"
She froze and looked at him with wide eyes, "Yeh Batsy JUNYAH!" A bout of giggles followed.
He found himself simultaneously amused and annoyed by the jester-like street urchin. Her giggling abruptly stopped and she shoved out her hand.
"Harley Quinn. Yeh pops and me go way back!"
He took it hesitantly and felt a sudden jolt. Leaping back, his hand was on his belt, searching for the compartment with batarangs. Instead, he pulled out . . .
"Jerky! Oooh! Gimme-gimme-gimme! Pleeeeeeeease!"
Clark held it back and asked, "What did you just do to me?"
Giggling again, she held up a palm with a large red button on it. "Joy buzzeh." Her grin faded, "My Puddin's favorite toy . . ."
He held the stick to her and she broke off a piece. Chewing, her mouth wide open, "So haven't seen yah around heh before."
Shrugging, he admitted, "First night in this suit. Who was that man?"
"Jerk tryin' teh steal my money!" Her fists balled up and her face got tight, "Ooh if my Puddin' was heh!"
Clark cleared his throat. "Who's 'Puddin?'"
"Mistah J!"
That answer being no help, he shrugged. "Well, I'm going back on patrol."
"Wait!"
He turned, "Yes?"
Glancing back and forth, she leaned forward and in a stage whisper, "I got info feh yah . . . feh a price . . ."
"More jerky?"
Still leaning towards him, she nodded quickly and snatched the rest from his hand. After devouring it, and just when he was starting to get bored, she whispered again.
"Darkseid's coming back to Gotham."
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