Disclaimer: I do not own Justice League or Justice League Unlimited. I write this for my own entertainment and the entertainment of others.

A to Z, an Anthology
Muck

The spring had been a sweltering one in Gotham. Electric bills were up everywhere in the city as every resident who had one kept their air conditioning running nearly full time, and it wasn't even summer just yet. Children complained even more than normal at having to go to school in the old buildings that didn't have central air. Construction workers were miserable as well, but were used to working in such arid conditions.

Then, after nearly a month with no relief, a cold front finally came through, bringing three days of steady rain. Thankfully, there hadn't been any spike in the humidity when it finally stopped. Instead, there was only a cool breeze sweeping through the trees.

Diana walked up to the door of Wayne Manor. Gotham's elite had a charity ball taking place that evening. She and Bruce had been… seeing one another for six months, and thus had planned to attend, if only for the sake of the hosts, the Vreeland family, who were long-time friends of Bruce's.

After ringing the doorbell, she waited patiently. After nearly a minute, far longer than she usually had to wait, the door opened to reveal Alfred.

"Oh, Miss Diana, you're here!"

Diana blinked and stared at the Englishman. As long as she had known Alfred, she always would have described him as unflappable. Nothing ever seemed to phase him, not even when Wally had accidentally blown a hole through the wall of the Manor during the Thanagarian invasion. Now, though, he looked positively frazzled. It was rather alarming.

"Alfred, is everything all right?" she asked, her eyes widening. Images of any number of things went through her mind. Bruce or Tim or Barbara injured, possibly severely, someone having discovered the entrance to the Cave and the Bat family fighting for their lives, anything.

"Oh, yes, Miss," he replied as he worked to master his poise. He opened the door further, allowing her to enter the house. "Master Bruce is running a little late, I am afraid," he told her as they left the main foyer and walked further into the manor. He led her to the study, continuing, "There was a little mishap while he and Miss Barbara and Master Tim were on patrol."

"He isn't injured, is he?"

Alfred shook his head. "No, Miss, but he is not quite ready to go. I fear you both shall be late attending the festivities tonight." He moved toward the clock, adding, "I shall inform Master Bruce that you're here. He'll be up as quickly as possible."

Diana watched the clock close behind the butler, and raised an eyebrow. A 'mishap' while Bruce was on patrol? Bruce didn't have 'mishaps'. In this city, when something went wrong, it was usually far higher up on the scale than 'mishap.' 'Catastrophic' or 'apocalyptic' were typically better descriptions when something bad happened on Bruce's patrols.

She eyed the entrance to the Cave worriedly. Alfred had said that Bruce wasn't injured, but then Bruce hardly ever admitted to being hurt. Normally, she knew to keep her distance when it came to his work in Gotham, including the patrols, but if something was wrong…

Diana pursed her lips and straightened her shoulders. What was the worst Bruce could do? If there was really nothing wrong, he would grumble a bit and let it go. If something was, then she might be able to help. Those thoughts in mind, she stepped forward and opened the clock to enter the Cave.

As she quietly moved through the tunnel, she could hear the conversation occurring below.

"Bruce, stop moving, you're getting it everywhere!"

"Oh gross, you got it in my hair!"

"Master Bruce, please remain still!"

"It's hard not to move when you all keep pulling me!"

Diana came to the top of the staircase that led down into the Cave and stared at the tableau in front of her. Alfred had a hose, of all things, in hand. Barbara and Tim, still in their costumes, were holding onto Bruce's arms. Bruce, however, was covered, head to toe, in mud.

"Hera," Diana breathed, her hand coming up to her mouth, "Bruce, what happened?"

All four of them froze when she spoke, and turned as one to look up at her, giving Diana a better look at them. Tim and Barbara both had mud on them, including some in Barbara's hair, which had been what had prompted her earlier outburst. Alfred, so far, seemed to have kept it off of him, but Bruce was absolutely coated in it. She couldn't even see any of the black Kevlar that made up his costume.

Diana slowly made her way down the stairs, not taking her eyes off of Bruce. "What in Tartarus happened?" she repeated, now struggling not to laugh. She came to a stop several feet away. They made quite a contrast, Diana noted. He was a filthy mess, quite different from her coifed hair and long red dress.

Alfred, Tim, and Barbara backed away a bit, letting Bruce face her alone. She bit her lip and tried to stop grinning, though to little success, if the scowl on Bruce's face was any indication.

"It was Clayface," he said shortly. "Nothing to be concerned about, Princess. I'll be ready to leave soon."

Diana nodded. "I'm relieved, actually," she said. He cocked his head questioningly, and she elaborated, laughter starting to bubble up, "I thought you might have decided that a mud bath would improve your complexion."

Muck: n. sticky dirt.