Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.
Signal
Chapter Eleven: Fragmented
Apokolips 2 Weeks Ago…Superboy stepped out of the Boom Tube and was escorted by Granny Goodness into a world that could only be described in one four letter word: 'Hell'.
The sky was a darkened kaleidoscope of crimsons and violets tinted with brown and gray by plumes of ash and soot thrown into the air by erupting shafts that spewed fire from the very core of the planet itself. This was Apokolips, home of the New Gods of Anti-Life, realm of the Great and Powerful Darksied –his master. It was the first time since his creation that Superboy had ever set foot on the planet, the first time he'd ever actually seen it (Dreamer's short exposition of the place not included). It was terrible, and it was beautiful. Dark and yet full of vivid colors. Dead and yet coursing with power.
The Tube had let them out on a landing of sorts and Granny led him through a wide rounded doorway into a labyrinth of passageways. Parademons patrolled the corridors but they stopped, pressing themselves to the walls and saluting, as the old woman passed. This place must be important, to have Parademons patrolling the corridors. Then they reached their destination.
Granny led the Superboy into the throne room for an audience with none other than the Mighty Darksied himself!
Superboy reacted instantly upon finding himself in the god's presence. He dropped to his knees, one fist to the ground in front of him the other across his chest. The proper kneeling position for humbling one's self before the Great Darksied. The Superboy silently offered his submission.
The mighty ruler of Apokolips gave a small chuckle; it was a deep mirthless sound that seemed to rumble up as if from the very pits of Apokolips itself. "I see he already knows his place."
Darksied's eyes glowed with crimson fire as he regarded the Superboy that knelt before him. Superboy, for his part did not move, he did not rise; he did not lift his head; he did not speak. His master had not given him leave to do so and so he remained as he was. Obedient. Patient. Quiet.
…
Apokolips
1 Week and 5 Days Ago…
DeSaad, Apokoliptan scientist, chief torturer and member of Darksied's Elite regarded the boy that Granny had brought back with her from Earth. The boy lay dormant, in a trance, suspended in a stasis pod while the Good Granny tinkered with his mind. Extrapolating the necessary data, deleting useless programming or rewriting certain memories to give his perceptions of them a different slant.
"Look at this." Granny huffed, indicating a read-out in front of her. "What possible purpose would teaching him ancient Earth history possibly serve? I understand recent events and political climate, that's perfectly relevant and has military applications. But ancient history…"
She wiped the programming.
"You're a woman of stark practicality, Granny." DeSaad commented dryly. "How much are you changing of our little Earth-grown weapon's programming?"
"'Our' weapon?" She raised one thick white eyebrow. "This weapon belongs to Darksied. I'm just honing it for him. And to answer your question, I'm just making a few tweaks here and there."
"That might cause some problems later on if you end up coding it wrong." The Apokoliptan scientist warned. "Better let me do it."
"T'ch, and allow you to steal all the glory for your self." She scoffed. "I'm not so old as to be taken in by your transparent attempts to usurp Darksied's favor, DeSaad. Girls," the Female Furies seemed to materialize as if from the very shadows themselves, "please see the man out."
When he was gone, the Granny turned her attention back to the boy she was working on. "All you need to do is kill the Superman and the rest of the Earth's champions. You don't need to know anything else."
…
Apokolips
1 Week and 3 Days Ago…
Superboy stood at parade rest, his feet parted slightly, his hands clasped behind his back, eyes forward, attention focused on the large wide screen before him.
Images played before his eyes, to fast for a human to register and comprehend, but then, Superboy wasn't human now was he. They seemed random, battles between alien races over a cosmos away, kittens from Earth playing with a cardboard box, trees falling, lighting striking, bombs dropping, water flowing, blood spurting, flowers opening, spaceships, spiders, soldiers, sages, super-novas, splitting atoms… random images, but all having an underlying element of 'violence' behind them, of action and power.
All the while, voices played in his ears…
'Strength comes from obedience to Darksied.'
'Deceit in the service of Darksied is honorable.'
'Power comes from submission to Darksied.'
'Savagery in the service of Darkside is noble.'
…
Apokolips
1 Week Ago…
Superboy silently dodged the thrust Gilotina had aimed at his mid-section, jumping back and to the side to avoid her sharp, blade-like, hand.
His dodge, however, sent him backing into Mad Harriet whom, laughing with maniacal glee, tangled herself up in his legs and caused the young weapon to stumble and fall. The mad woman was on top of him then, straddling his thighs and continuing to cackle as her claws racked the chest-plate of his battle suit. He snarled back at her and brought his fist up to collide with the side of her face. The Fury was dazed and he shoved her off of him to reclaim a standing position.
No sooner was the Superboy back on his feet, however, than Lashina's whips were wrapped around him. The flat but strong bands rendering him momentarily immobile. It was in the moment of immobility, as he stood wondering how best to hand the situation that Speed Queen began an offensive of her own.
The Apokoliptan speedster ran circles around him and Lashina, working up her momentum and then when her speed would peak, she'd barrel into the kryptonian-genomorph using the force of her super-speed to deal more damage than she otherwise would have been unable to do.
Superboy snarled again and, summoning his strength, broke free of Lashina's bonds. Speed Queen saw to late that he was free and on her last pass, rather than slamming into him, ran smack into his out-stretch arm, the momentum of her forward motion causing her feet to swing up over her head. The Superboy caught her by the ankles and slammed her head strait into the ground where he left her, turning his focus to Lashina.
Gilotina and Mad Harriet regrouped with their leader and the three women glared at the Earth-made living weapon. The three were about to launch themselves at the Superboy but a clap of hands gave them all pause.
Two short claps.
All four of them looked up passed the empty Arena stands to the Grand Balcony where Granny stood observing their practice. She had only introduced the weapon to her girls earlier that day and it looked like they were already becoming fast friends. Wonderful!
"Oh, excellent, excellent, my little chickadees." She beamed down at them all. "Its so good to see you all getting along. What do you think of him, girls? Is he not stunning?"
…
Apokolips
3 Days Ago…
Superboy-Dark once again knelt in Darksied's audience chamber, one fist to the ground, the other across his chest –the posture of honor and service to Mighty Darksied.
"You have trained well, my weapon." There was no infraction in the godly ruler's voice when he said this, no emotion. It was simply a statement.
Superboy-Dark wanted to respond with the appropriate thanks expected from one of his station but he had discovered since coming to Apokolips that words did not come to him as easily as they used to. He couldn't understand why. Overall, it wasn't a necessity and the inability hadn't bothered him much over his two weeks thus far, but times like this he really wished he could speak. The weapon could not give his thanks to his master and so he kept his head down, groveling adequately so as to avoid offending the Great Darksied.
"As a reward for your admirable performance," he continued, "I have an assignment for you. I trust you remember your former world –Earth."
He did and so, since he could not speak, he raised his head and gave the god-like king a nod of confirmation.
"I wish to extend to Earth the privilege of joining my Empire. You will lead the advanced force in capturing it."
…
Apokolips
2 Days Ago…
Superboy-Dark, whom those around him had come to call 'Mute', 'Quiet', and now that he was leading an invasion force, the 'Silent Brigadier General', sat in his quarters within Granny Goodness' Orphanage. Since becoming a member of Darksied's Elite he had been granted his own private room and no longer had to share with the rest of the boys under Granny's guidance.
He reviewed Earth's defenses, both military and Justice League in nature. He memorized the locations of weapons depots across the globe, important bases, influential leaders, etc. And when he was sure that he had learned all there was to learn about the pitiful human militaries of the globe, Mute turned his attention to the Justice League. Most of the information he now studied was information he himself had provided Granny with two weeks ago, but for some reason, his own memories of the League were a bit fuzzy. As if someone had spilt water over them and the ink had run.
That was a silly idea. Memories made of ink.
He scanned through the documents Granny had provided him with, reading up on Wonder Woman of Themyscira, one of the Green Lanters (there were, like, three of them), Aquaman the ruler of the underwater kingdom of Atlantis, the Flash whom was the 'Fastest Man Alive', Batman the Earth's Greatest Detective… and then Quiet got to the file complied on his genetic-parent –the Superman.
The Superboy-Dark paused. He studied the images of the man, every photo and hologram they had of the Man of Steel. Mute's eyes traced the square chin and high cheekbones, the cleft in the chin and the thin lips that seemed set in a determined frown in every image. That didn't seem right, he distinctly remembered Kal-El smiling at some point… hadn't he…? Superboy-Dark wasn't quite sure anymore, when he tried to call up an image of the man from his own memory it all went fuzzy.
He remembered a fortress of ice, white stone and crystal, it was Kal's home. He knew its coordinates and how to get in, but what else…? There had been a dog there… no, two dogs… a dog and a wolf? Yes. It was Wolf whom he'd brought home with him from India and Kal's dog Krypto. His Team came over to visit often. But wait… wasn't he supposed to have been living in the Cave at Mt. Justice? What would his Team need to visit him at Kal's Fortress for if they saw him every day at the Cave already?
Or… had living at the Cave just been a temporary thing? Had the plan always been for him to move in with Kal and his stay at the Cave was just to give the man time to put his own house in order? Drifting up from the bowls of his memory, Superboy-Dark vaguely recalled the Kid Flash's voice back at Cadmus before he had actually been awakened…
'They're making a slave out of, well… Superman's son.'
Was that it? No. That wasn't right. He was a clone of Kal, not his son.
Superboy-Dark started to feel dizzy. None of what he remembered made much sense. It was all mixed-up and jumbled together in shards and fragments. Disconnected and twirly. The only things he was sure of were that he needed to face Kal again and neutralize him, and that he lived to serve Darksied. Those were the solid facts. That was all he truly needed to know. Everything else was window dressing.
He looked back at the images of Superman and once again studied his enemy. The strait nose, the set of his crystal blue eyes, the lazy carefree spit curl of hair… the man looked so much like him. Of course, he was Kal's clone.
'well… Superman's son.'
No. Clone.
'Superman's son.'
Clone.
'Son.'
'I finally decided on your name. … Kon-El.' A gift to the House of El, the House of the Star. Star Gift. Kon-El. A gift to Superman…
…
Apokolips
Yesterday…
The army was assembled and the Silent Brigadier General was ready.
Granny stepped forward to offer a parting gift to the Superboy-Dark. A helmet. As she presented it to him, the living weapon could hear the music of Apokolips fill the air around them. What an odd gift to give someone. But no matter. He accepted it with gratitude all the same.
"Serve Great Darkseid." She said. "Wear this helmet proudly as you lead his armies. Die for him -and reward your Granny."
Mute nodded his understanding and saluted Granny Goodness. He then turned to his troops.
A Boom Tube was opened and Quiet raised his arm and when he let it fall again, the swarms of Parademons sailed forward, a raging tide ready to wash over the forces of their enemies.
…
Watchtower
April 2 – (irrelevant)
Lashina glared at the silent brigadier general as the squad of Parademons she'd sent after the escaping Superman and his liberators brought him in for a none to gentle landing in one of the Watchtower's emergency airlocks. She watched through the small window as the external door shut behind them and the chamber began to re-pressurize. Blue Eyes took off his oxygen mask just before the green light came on, indicating it was safe to enter the base proper.
He stepped into the corridor and offered her a slight nod of thanks for sending the Parademons to assist him.
She smacked him hard across the face, wincing at the pain it caused in her own hand as she did so. The loud clap of palm against cheek echoed through the corridor, reverberating off the steel paneled walls, the sound causing the Parademons to pause and stare, then as one decided it was safer to put as much distance between themselves and two of Darksied's Elite whom were about to row as possible.
Superboy-Dark stared at her wide-eyed.
"You were supposed to kill him." She growled, voice low and threatening. "That was your task, your one mission, the single thing you were created to do and you couldn't do that. No. You had to bring him back to our base with you like some sort of bizarre war-trophy."
His eyes narrowed into crystal-blue slits of displeasure.
"You should never have been given command of this invasion." She continued. "As soon as we cordon off and seal the compromised areas of the station and get the air-flow back online, I'm petitioning Granny to revoke your command. You're obviously to emotionally invested in this to think clearly."
She turned to leave. He grabbed her arm with vice-like constraint. This was his command; the Great Darksied had personally named him as leader for this mission. He was not about to let some ribbon twirling twat take it away from him!
"Careful, Blue-Eyes." She growled, low and threatening. Lashina was not one easily cowed. "Our master might have chosen you to begin this mission, but don't go inflating your own importance. I've been one of Darksied's Elite far longer than you and if it ever came down to a question of you or me… who do you think the master will choose to keep?"
That gave him pause. He stood, starring at her.
She walked away.
…
Stately Wayne Manor
April 2 – 6:04 am
Clark rolled over in the wide bed, pulling the sheets around him as he did so. The mattress sank under his weight and the mahogany wood frame creaked with his movement. Hm, a wood bed frame, had he spent the night at his parents' house in Smallville?
Clark stretched as he pondered that question. No… This bed was far too big to belong in his room in the Kent farmhouse. Slowly, with a yawn, the Superman opened his eyes and instantly recognized his surroundings.
Wayne Manor.
Clark sat bolt upright in bed. Okay, what the hell had happened last night? It wasn't often that Clark Kent, the Superman, woke-up in Batman's home without the slightest idea of how he'd gotten there or what they, the World's Finest, had done to render the Man of Steel unconscious and devoid of memory. Clark did a quick check of himself.
Ten fingers, ten toes, no obvious injuries (thought, with his kryptonian healing abilities that didn't mean much). But, um… where was his uniform. Clark noted with only mild alarm that he lay in bed in naught but his underwear. Okay… Last night had either been one crazy wild party or else he'd been hit with enough green kryptonite to merit Alfred's surgical skills to remove all the green-k shrapnel from his person.
…Or, option three; Bruce had (in classic Batman fashion) synthesized his own version of Clark's kryptonian sedative and dosed him with it to test its effectiveness (or just for shits and giggles). It wasn't the most likely of options, but it wasn't beyond the Batman either.
Keeping that in mind, Clark jumped out of bed and ran to the adjoining bathroom just to make sure the Caped Crusader hadn't written anything on him in permanent marker. (It wouldn't be the first time Bruce had pranked him like that.) The Superman breathed a sigh of relief as he looked in the mirror.
His forehead was utterly devoid of any words like 'Buffoon', 'Idiot' or 'Hayseed'. There had been no big dark circles drawn around his eyes. There were no doodles on his chest. The small of his back did not sport any bat-shaped tramp-stamps. His arms were free of any hearts that said 'Mom' or 'Mamma's Boy'. It seemed Bruce had not taken the liberty of using him as a canvas for his rudimentary art skills. That was a relief. His skin might be invulnerable, but permanent marker still took a couple washings to get off.
Clark breathed a sigh of relief and reentered the bedroom. But that still left the question of what he was doing waking up in Bruce's home with no memory of how he'd gotten here.
Luckily, the Man of Steel didn't have to wait long. Whether the Dark Knight had calculated that this would be around the time he'd be waking up or that he had the whole room bugged with surveillance (both of which were equally likely), Clark couldn't decide. But Alfred Pennyworth walked in bearing a tray of tea and sandwiches and a standard house-call medical bag.
"Good morning, Master Clark." He said with the same professional stoicism he always used when speaking, even to Bruce whom he had raised almost as a son.
Clark rushed forward to take the tray from him and help lighten the older man's load a little.
"Thank you, Master Clark, but I have it." He shooed the over-polite country bumpkin aside. "Perhaps you might like to put a robe on?"
"Uh, right." Clark pulled the house robe that had been hung over one of the bedposts over himself.
Alfred set the tea tray on the bedside table and opened his medical bag, motioning for the Superman to take a seat. "And how are you feeling this morning?"
"Fine. I guess." Clark shrugged as he sat. "A little confused. What am I doing here?"
"Hm." Alfred didn't exactly answer as he took out a stethoscope and began checking Clark's heartbeat and breathing. He asked the Man of Steel to breath in deeply and exhale slowly to which the Superman offered a lopsided grin and asked with slight amusement just how deep the old butler meant. If he inhaled as deeply as he could, he'd suck all the air out of the room. To this Alfred simply clarified, "A reasonable amount, if you please."
He then moved the stethoscope to Clark's back and repeated the process.
"Just a few questions, Master Clark." He said as he replaced the stethoscope in his bag and instead selected a small penlight. "First, something easy: What is your name?"
"Clark Kent." He answered in annoyance, as Alfred shined the light in his eyes. "And if you're checking to see if my pupil dilate you're gonna need something a bit stronger than that."
"And your other name?" The army-medic trained butler continued, ignoring his comment.
"Superman." Clark grumbled.
"And you're other name?"
Clark gave an irritated sigh. "Kal-El of Krypton. Would you like me to list off my ancestors too?"
"That will do, Master Clark." He assured the All-American Alien. The penlight was returned to the bag and Alfred then began feeling his throat and chin, checking his lymph nodes. "Do you know today's date?"
"March thirty-first." Okay, it was becoming apparent by these questions that Alfred (or more likely Bruce) suspected some version of brain damage. What in the world had happened?
"And your favorite color, if you please?"
"Blue." He grumbled.
"Hm." He took out a tongue depressor and checked the back of Clark's throat. Then he packed up his bag and stood. "Master Bruce wants you to come down to the cave to be debriefed whenever you're ready, Master Clark. In the meantime I suggest you indulge in a shower. Your uniform is still in the wash. However, you might find these a tad more serviceable than that robe."
He walked to a wardrobe and pulled out a red flannel plaid shirt and blue jeans, socks, new underwear and a pair of glasses identical to Clark Kent's. He placed these on the bed next to the Superman.
"Is that my shirt!" He picked up the plaid flannel piece and examined the miss-matched buttons. Yes, this was his shirt; he'd re-sewn the buttons himself (several times). Ripping his shirts open and revealing his Superman S might be heroically dramatic, but it was murder on his shirt buttons. Joann's Fabric store must make bank off of him and his button purchases alone. But he thought he'd lost this shirt in his apartment building's laundry room.
"Master Bruce is a firm believer in always being prepared."
Clearly.
…
Stately Wayne Manor
April 2 – 7:12 am
Showered, dressed, hair combed and glasses on, Clark stepped out of his room in the guest wing of Wayne Manor.
The Superman blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Blinked again. Cleaned his glasses. …No, he was definitely seeing right. But the only possible explanation for what he saw could be that he had somehow woken up in a bizarre alternate universe in which Bruce Wayne, the Batman, had actual friends and invited them over from time to time. That was the only explanation.
"Morning, Supes." Hal Jordan yawned at him, as he and fellow Green Lantern, John Stewart, passed him in the corridor, both wearing pajamas and heading for the stairs (presumably down to breakfast).
Zatanna and Black Canary walked in the opposite direction, also yawning, and complaining to one another about their lack of sleep and how hard they intended to hit their respective pillows.
Was Bruce having the entire League over for a slumber party?
Dear Rao! This must be what going mad felt like!
There was only one way he was going to get to the bottom of this. Clark followed the Lanterns through the corridor and down the stairs. As he had guessed, they veered off and headed for the dining room. A quick glance with his X-ray vision showed that Alfred had set-up a 'buffet-style' breakfast and Barry and the two Hawks were already seated and eating. He continued past the dinning room on to the study and the concealed entrance to the Batcave.
The Man of Steel received another hard shock when he opened the study door, however. The faux grandfather clock that concealed the interior entrance to the Batcave hung wide open, displaying its secret for all in the house to see and, unless his super-human hearing was mistaken (which it almost never was) Clark distinctly heard classical music drifting out from the bowls of the cave. That's it! That settled it! Either he had somehow passed into an alternate universe without his noticing… or, he was going completely insane.
Now wary and hesitant, the Superman stepped through the clock and descended the narrow cut-stone steps that lead into the Batcave. The melody of 'The Old Castle Promenade' from Modest Musorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition floated around him and it occurred to Clark then, maybe he wasn't the one that had taken a dive off the deep end, but maybe it was Bruce instead. It was a documented fact that forty percent of native Gothamites ended-up insane or at the very least, 'unhinged' by the age of thirty. The Batman had always been 'unhinged'; maybe he'd finally taken that final step... ?
Bruce was standing by the coffee maker when Clark finally reached the bottom step. Of course he would be. When the Dark Knight told you to meet him in his cave, chances were you would find him either by the coffee or in front of his monitor array when you entered. But it wasn't coffee Bruce was drinking, or rather, it wasn't just coffee. Clark watched as the Caped Crusader opened a packet of pure caffeine powder and pored it in his drink. Focusing his hearing on his friend, the Superman counted his heart beat and calculated that Bruce had been up for almost two days.
How long had he been out? And how much had he missed?
The Dark Knight looked up, met his eyes and tilted his head toward his worktable. Usually, it was covered with the various components that went into his bat-bombs or the bombs themselves in various stages of assembly (or disassembly). But this morning all that had been pushed to one end, leaving the rest of the table cleared and two chairs had been dragged to it and placed on either side.
Bruce sat. Clark took the seat opposite him.
"Morning." He said. There was no outward indication that he was sleep deprived or otherwise under any sort of strain. But Clark could see that behind his mask the man's eyes were tight and tense.
"Must have been some party." Clark commented, determined to keep a light mood. Bruce had a way of making even the most cheerful and happy of situations seem somber. The Founding Seven sometimes joked that that was his super-power.
Bruce said nothing in return, just gave the Man of Steel an impatient frown that, had the upper portion of his face not been obscured by his cowl, would have been part of one of his many 'serious faces'.
Alfred materialized by them, bearing a tray of freshly baked goods. He began unloading plates of scones, cupcakes, apple pie, devil's food cake, carrot cake, cream pie, strawberry tart, tiramisu, and one plate that didn't seem to belong at all –bacon and eggs with hash browns. What in the world?
Bruce propped his elbows on the table, interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on the platform they made. He regarded the Superman. "Choose one."
"What?" Clark blinked in utter confusion. "Is this some kinda test?"
"Just pick one, Clark."
The Man of Steel suppressed the urge to grumble and instead turned his attention to the plates of food before him. He was about to reach for the apple pie, but hesitated. He hadn't eaten breakfast yet and Ma would not approve of pie for breakfast, she'd raised him better than that. With a heavy sigh of reluctance, Clark moved his hand from the pie plate to the bacon and eggs, the only plate that did not have a sweet desert on it. He looked up at Bruce for some sort of approval, or any cue at all for that matter, but the Dark Knight gave nothing away.
Feeling unbelievably awkward, Clark took a bite, paused, looked back up at his friend. "You're just gonna watch me eat?"
No response.
"Bruce, you can be so creepy sometimes."
Again, the Batman did not deign to respond.
Clark sighed and turned his attention back to his breakfast. Alfred was a great cook, but his expertise leaned more towards the cultured and cosmopolitan. He could bake a quiche, braise a side of beef, dress a quail, or mousse a salmon like it was nobody's business. But when it came to the simple all-American heartland foods, Alfred was simply… average. But that didn't mean that Clark wasn't going to clean his plate. As Ma reminded him often, it was wrong to waste perfectly good food in front of you while there were children starving in China.
He pushed the plate away when he was finished, his attention then returned to the apple pie. It was wrong to waste food, after all, there were children starving in China. …Of course, with Barry upstairs Clark could be sure that no food would be going to waste any time soon. But it was apple pie…!
"Okay, I know you said I could only choose one plate, but… can I still eat the pie?"
Bruce clapped as if in congratulations. "You passed."
"Excuse me?"
Bruce pushed the plate of pie toward the Man of Steel before pulling the devil's food to himself. "Everything's consistent with the man you were before."
"Before?" Clark echoed, his mouth full of pie. He swallowed. "Before what?"
Bruce used his fork to cut himself a bite of his own cake, slowly raised it to his lips, wrapped his mouth around the fork, chewed with careful ease, savoring the flavor, and the swallowed. "Tell me, Clark, what did you do yesterday?"
"Yesterday?" The Man of Steel blinked again. "Well, I got up, prevented a car accident, rescued a kitten from a tree, got coffee, bantered with Lois as Clark, turned in an article ahead of my deadline, beat Toyman, bantered with Lois as Superman, then I went to my Fortress to try and find a way of tracking Boom Tubes and finding Kon-El. But I have no idea how I ended up unconscious in your house, if that's what you're asking."
He took another bite of devil's food. "Mm, I don't know how to tell you this, Clark, but what you think you did yesterday, you actually did the day before yesterday." Another bite of cake. "Hm, well, I guess I did know how to tell you. Today is not March thirty-first, but rather April second."
"Get out. What could have knocked me out for two days?"
"Actually, you were only out for about five hours. Well, five hours, twelve minuets and forty-three seconds if you wanna be really exact."
He would know.
"Then why don't I remember yesterday?" A pause. "Was this an April Fools prank? Because I thought that after the Magic-K incident we promised never to try and prank one another again… ever!"
"Do you want an explanation or not?"
"I want an explanation." Clark nodded.
"Then shut up and eat your pie." He turned on his best bat-glare and fixed it upon the Superman until he lowered his eyes back to his apple-filled pastry and once again began to eat. The Batman waited one… two… three beats before beginning, "Earth's being invaded by Apokolips, the same people who took Conner from you. Conner's working for them. We've already lost the Watchtower, the Cave and your Fortress. You were captured. They tried to mind-control you too. The Team rescued you. J'onn and I cleaned out your brain, though, so you're safe. You're welcome, by the way. The end."
Clark stared at him, his mouth hanging open in disbelief, his fork halfway up from his plate the bit of pie on it seemingly forgotten.
"Would you like me to repeat?"
He just continued to stare.
"Clark?"
"I'm waiting for you to say 'April Fools'."
Bruce sighed. It was too much to hope for to keep the explanations short. He pushed his devil's food aside and leaned his arm on the table. Taking another sip from his laced coffee the Dark Knight began a more in-depth recap for the Man of Steel.
…