Rating: T

Where else can I find this story? All five parts are on the first page of Part 5 of the original Young Justice Anon Meme on LiveJournal.

Summary: Lex Luthor is in prison, and Superboy is given a mission to protect the man who put him there: Clark Kent. But what Conner doesn't know... (Part V of Masks, from the Anon Meme).

Hero

Masks, Part V

Chapter 7: Party Crashers

When Wally returns, fifteen minutes later, they're all huddled in front of the television. It's a rerun of the Flaming C, so Jonathan changes the channel to MNN, which apparently is covering some big shinding in Gotham.

"Cat Grant, reporting from Gotham City, where the Wayne Foundation Gala is more splendid than ever."

"Oh, that's right," Mr. Kent says absently, "the Wayne Gala is tonight."

"Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham's, been quite busy with work recently, but of course, he's here tonight." Grant waves over to a man in a black suit, whom Conner recognizes as Bruce Wayne. He looks even worse than the last time Conner saw him a few days ago; the dark circles under his blue eyes are even darker and deeper than Conner remembers, and his skin has a distinctly unattractive green sheen to it. The woman hanging off his arm is an extreme contrast: blonde and buxom, she's wearing too much makeup and her dress leaves little to the imagination.

"That Wayne's a real classy guy," Artemis says sarcastically.

"He sure knows how to pick 'em," Wally agrees dreamily without a trace of irony in his voice.

"Mr. Wayne," Cat says.

"Please, call me Bruce," Wayne says, though his heart doesn't seem to be in it.

"Of course, Bruce, I have to say, I'm surprised to see you here: word has it that you've been working round the clock, and now, you've come down with the flu?"

"Oh, no, it's just a little head cold," Wayne answers. "Nothing a little DayQuil can't fix."

"Oh, don't listen to Brucie," Wayne's date interrupts. "He's such a brave soul—the poor baby's terribly sick, Alfie was threatening to tie him to his bed, but there was no keeping him."

"Well Cat," Wayne explains, "it's well-known that I wouldn't miss this for the world. This Gala is a major fundraiser for the Wayne Foundation, last year… last year…" Wayne's eyes are suddenly unfocused. "Sorry, I lost my train of thought. What was I saying?"

"You were talking about how the Gala's a great fundraiser and last year the Gala raised like a gazillion dollars."

"Oh, yes, last year the Gala raised $398 million for the Foundation. This year we're hoping to raise half a billion. Of course, the people watching at home can give too, by going to Wayne-dot-org-Cat, could I ask you to put that down on the screen?" Cat nods.

"Tell, 'em Brucie," Wayne's date says, "tell 'em how you already gave a hundred mil of your own money to the Gala tonight." She hugs him and presses a kiss to Wayne's temple. "You're such a saint, Brucie, that's why I love you."

Wayne tries to smile roguishly, but succeeds only in looking tired and absolutely miserable. Conner can't help but notice that he doesn't tell his date that he loves her too.

"And what exactly does the Wayne Foundation do?" Cat asks.

"I established the Foundation in honor of my parents, Thomas and Martha Wayne." Wayne sniffles. "The Foundation's primary aim is to aid in crime prevention. To that end… to that end…" Wayne looks lost again.

"He's normally a spaz," Artemis says, "but he normally doesn't blank in the middle of a sentence."

"Indeed, it would appear that Mr. Wayne is fighting absolute exhaustion," Kaldur comments.

"It must be really bad, if he's so tired he can't even function," Wally says.

"He's only human," Mr. Kent adds.

"Crime prevention," Wayne's date whispers in his ear back on the screen.

"Right, the Wayne Foundation funds programs that fight the social causes of crime. We fund afterschool programs, vocational training, drug detox clinics, homeless and battered person shelters, and, specific to Gotham we also have a special partnership with the GCPD, and a special fund to aid the children of police officers shot down in the line of duty and the children of the victims of violent crime. This year too, we want to start a partnership with the Justice League, so we can contribute to the safety of all peoples across the globe."

"See, isn't he a doll?" Wayne's date says. "That's all my Brucie."

"Oh, I set up the Foundation, but there's a lot of hard work done by a lot of people. All I do is provide money and help with the publicity, and really, that's the least I could do." Wayne coughs into his sleeve.

"Well, thank you so much, Mr. Wayne," Cat says, "Now, I'll let you get back to your dinner."

Wayne half smiles, and he looks ready to say something charming and inane, but just then, an all too familiar laugh rings out.

Conner feels his heart jump into his throat from the shock. Mr. Kent actually jumps, spilling his hot coffee all over himself.

"Oh fu—" he bites his lip. "Excuse me," he grimaces in pain as he gets up. "I have to go change," he explains as he leaves for the bathroom.

Conner barely pays any attention; he's transfixed upon the screen, watching as the Joker and Harley Quinn stroll into the ballroom with a pair of hyenas and a handful of machine-gun toting goons in clown masks.

He hears Wayne's voice talking off screen, "Lucius, get me out of here," he says, and Conner resists the urge to roll his eyes at Wayne's cowardice, because any sane man runs when the Joker comes.

"Hello ladies and germs," the Joker says grandly to the ballroom, "Harley seems to have misplaced our tickets somewhere, I told the bouncers that it was all a big misunderstanding, that I'm a close, personal friend of Brucie Wayne, and well, once we got it all squared away, we had a good old laugh about it, why don't you show 'em Harl?"

The camera zooms in on Harely Quinn, who's holding up a dead man in a tuxedo, a gruesome grin's plastered on his face: the mask of death.

"Now, where's my bestest friend in the whole wide world?"

"I'm right here, Puddin'" Quinn answers, raising her hand and letting the corpse drop on the floor with a thud.

"Not you, idiot," the Joker growls as he slaps her to the floor.

"Ah, right, there, Brucie, darling! It's been far too long," the Joker waves his hand eagerly, as if though greeting an old friend. The camera pans across the ballroom, to where Bruce Wayne and his date are attempting to leave quietly. The Joker presses a button and laughter from an old sitcom blares out. "Oh, you're not trying to sneak out on ol' Joker, are you, Brucie?"

Thus caught, Wayne turns around and stands up tall. "Of course not," he says.

"Hmmm, you know what, Brucie, ol' buddy, ol' pal, you don't look so good."

"I've been working long hours," Wayne answers, and Conner can only assume that exhaustion has made him brave enough to talk to the Joker like that. The only other person Conner knows of who will humor the Joker like that is Batman.

"All work and no play—

"Makes me a dull boy," Wayne cuts the Joker off.

The Harlequin of Hate frowns, and then he hits Wayne hard enough to send the man tumbling to the floor, his date screaming in terror. "That's my punchline, Brucie."

Wayne gets himself up—his lip is bleeding, but he hardly seems to notice.

"Sorry; it was so predictable, I thought I was supposed to say it."

Joker looks like he's about to hit Wayne again, but then he just laughs instead. "Oh, Brucie, you've got a helluva sense of humor. It's why I love you. That and the fact that you threw this whole big party for me. They say you're trying to raise 500 million smackeroos for crime in Gotham, and seein' as I'm the Clown Prince of Crime, Harl and I thought we'd save you the trouble of lugging all that gold up to Arkham."

"I think you've misunderstood," a familiar voice calls out, and the camera swings to the other side of the room, where Robin has appeared.

Joker claps. "Oh, goody, Birdbrain, that means Guanoman can't be far behind. Half a billion green ones, Robin and Bats, oh, Brucie, how did you know it's my birthday? Harl how come you never get me anything this nice for my birthday?"

"Because nobody knows when your birthday is, Puddin'."

"True," Joker admits as he wraps an arm around Wayne, "Didn't stop Brucie from throwing me a party."

"Except for the part where I didn't throw you a party," Wayne says as he throws Joker off of him, disgust thick on his face.

"Oh, you'll make me think I'm not wanted here," Joker scowls.

"Now he gets the idea," Robin says.

One of the henchmen whispers something to Joker, who pulls away, horrified. "Harl, apparently this fundraiser isn't for crime, it's for crime prevention."

Quinn gasps. "But Puddin', how could someone possibly wanna get rid of crime?"

"I dunno Harl, you're the headshrinker, you tell me."

Quinn pulls out a pair of thick horn-rimmed glasses and puts them on, marching up to Wayne as if to inspect him. "This is a clear case of the Oedipus complex, I'm afraid he has it bad, Puddin'. His mother never loved him so—

That seems to be too much for Wayne to bear, and he lashes out against Quinn. Robin picks that moment to glide-kick the Joker, right in the face, and in a second, all hell breaks loose. Quinn is surprisingly agile and Wayne is a coddled playboy billionaire; he's tired and sick and completely out of his league. Quinn takes her giant mallet and swings it into Wayne, knocking the wind out of him. She hits him again, and knocks him to his knees. A third swing sends him crashing into the floor.

Suddenly, the mallet is ripped out of her hands. "Hey, what's the big idea?" she asks, and turns around, annoyed, but she squeaks when she sees Superman floating behind her with her mallet in his hand. He breaks it into splinters like it's a toothpick and throws the pieces behind him. He picks her up by the wrist and she wriggles in protest. "Hey, no fair, no fair, you can't do this to me!" she shrieks.

"The lady's right," Joker says, "this isn't your town. You can't come here. Gotham is Batsy's town."

"Batman's busy with Justice League matters," Superman explains dismissively. He throws Harley to the Joker, who steps aside, still fighting with Robin, rather than catch her.

"Who the hell do you think you are, taking my Batsy away from Gotham?" Joker snarls. "What if something happens to him? Then how will I kill him?" Enraged, Joker backhands Robin, pushing him away, and heads over to Wayne—Conner is surprised how fast Joker is: he's got Wayne's hair clutched in his fist before Superman can stop him. He pulls Wayne's head up and presses a knife against his throat. "And you want to give money to these people? You want to give money to these people who take Batman away from Gotham, away from me? I should kill you for that!"

Conner is fairly certain that Wayne's a goner, but then, he manages to elbow Joker in the crotch, and suddenly Wayne is standing free. Robin jumps on Quinn, and Wayne seems to follow Robin's lead, jumping on the Joker. Superman has turned his attention to the Joker's goons, one of whom is pointlessly showering him with machinegun fire. Superman catches each of the bullets to keep them from ricocheting into the crowd and moves in on the goon until he can simply grab the gun, which he crushes with ease.

Joker's laugh rings out again. Except, it isn't Joker's laugh, Conner realizes: it's loud and creepy, but too rhythmic for the Joker's mania, and the voice is too deep. The camera pans from Superman to Wayne who is laughing mirthlessly. It's clear that he can't help himself, and Robin drops Quinn, faced transfixed in horror on Wayne.

"See, that's much better," Joker says, getting up. He brushes imaginary dust from his arms. Wayne hasn't stopped laughing. "Though, I do hope you're not on any kind of cold medication. My special Joker laughing gas doesn't really get along very well with cold medication." Then as an afterthought, he adds, "Not that it really gets along with living people."

Robin lunges toward Wayne with a vial in his hand, but Joker pushes Wayne away and grabs Robin by the wrist. "This wouldn't happen to be the antidote to my lovely little concoction? Why, Robin, don't you know? I'm trying to help my dearest Brucie. He's sick, and we all know, there's no better medicine than laughter."

By now, Wayne's curled on the floor, laughing weakly, but clearly unable to stop.

Joker wrests the vial from Robin's hand and throws it to the floor.

"Superman!" Robin calls out, "That's the only dose I have on me!"

Superman catches it, but Harley's punching glove gun knocks it out of his hand, and it crashes to the floor, shattering. The color drains from Superman's face, and then he turns to Harley Quinn and he looks dangerously angry. He rushes to grab Quinn, but the Joker's voice calls out, "You're going to let her go. Both of us."

"And why in the world would I do that?"

That's when Conner notices the silence.

"Because you have bigger problems than us right now." Joker points to where Wayne is lying still on the floor, a grin plastered on his face. Robin is kneeling beside him.

Robin looks up at Superman. "He's… he's not breathing."

Faster than a speeding bullet, Superman is on his knees besides Bruce Wayne, pressing down on Wayne's chest. "Come on Bruce," Superman says as he presses down on Wayne's chest, "Come on Bruce, breathe. I know you're too stubborn to die damn it. Bruce, Bruce, damn it Bruce, don't die on me."

And there's something about how Superman says Bruce, that makes it all finally click for Conner, and suddenly he knows who it is that Superman is desperately trying to breathe life into. And in a flash, he's out of the Kent's house, on the road running towards Gotham.

Wally catches up with him in ten seconds on the Kansas border and cuts him off.

"What are you doing?" Conner asks, using almost more self control than he has to keep from just shoving Wally out of the way.

"Stopping you," Wally says.

"What? Get out of the way!" he shouts, because Batman… Batman needs help.

"No."

"Wally," he says through clenched teeth, "I can make you get out of the way. Don't test my patience."

"I know why you're going—

"What? How?"

"Because Robin's my best friend and he told me, and once you figure out Robin is Dick Grayson, it's not hard to figure out who Batman is. Superman only knows because he used his x-ray vision. Batman's so paranoid, now his mask is lined with lead. But, it's kind of obvious, in retrospect: who else in Gotham has the means and the motive?—

"What do you mean, motive?"

"Don't you know? Bruce Wayne saw his parents murdered when he was eight years old."

Conner feels like he's been punched, suddenly. He's never given thought to Batman's parents, or Batman's family at all—never wondered what Robin was to him, even, but now… Then, he remembers himself.

"So you knew?" Conner asks angrily, "You knew that he was in trouble, that he was in danger, and you didn't do anything to help?"

"I thought he could handle it. It's not the first time Bruce Wayne's gotten in and out of trouble. Last year, the Riddler held him hostage and demanded Batman solve his riddles by midnight, threatening to blow Wayne's brains out, and the year before that, the Mad Hatter mind controlled every billionaire in Gotham, including Wayne, and the year before that, some idiot socialite thought it would be really fun to keep Penguin and besides, Joker's right—Gotham is Batman's town. If random Leaguers start showing up in Gotham whenever Batman's in trouble, someone will eventually be clever to put two and two together."

"Everyone knows you're Robin's best friend! No one would have thought it was strange if you were in Gotham visiting!" Conner shouts, because he doesn't buy Wally's reasoning. "Now get the hell out of my way, or—

"You can do whatever you like Conner, but I'm not getting out of the way."

Conner tries to run past Wally, but Wally is faster. He tries to jump past Wally, but again, Wally is faster.

"Where the hell is the Kid Flash who rushes into things head-first when I need him?" Conner growls in desperation.

"You mean the Kid Flash who taught you about loopholes and almost got you killed? I almost got you killed, Conner, almost got us both killed, and Batman too."

Conner's face falls. He wants to cry. "But Batman… he needs help… he needs—

"He has help, Conner. Superman is there. And, look, I know Superman is lame, but he's capable, at least, and if… if Batman isn't going to be ok, then, he isn't. But if he is going to be ok, then he needs to have his identity protected, because he's going to be in the hospital, and because, well, because Batman and Robin are strong, but Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson are human and they're frail, and Bruce Wayne's butler is old and Dick Grayson's uncle can't walk. And because Batman couldn't do the things he does if people knew he was Bruce Wayne. They'd look into the company to make sure he wasn't stealing—

"Batman wouldn't steal!" Conner protestes. His throat is sore and it hurts to talk.

"I know. And you know. But they don't. And listen, if people knew Batman was rich, don't you think they'd sue him for every bit of property damage?

"I know it's hard. I know you want to go, protect him, be with him, I get it. But going won't save Bruce Wayne, and it might kill Batman."

Conner's shoulders sink, defeated, and he turns away, because he thinks he might cry and he doesn't want Wally to see. Suddenly Wally's arms are wrapped around him, tightly.