Bruce: Chapter 1

"Do it."

"I…I can't…"Bruce sighed as his shoulders fell.

The figure stepped behind him. "You are a failure. You could not protect your parents. You could not protect your city. You could not protect your friends or loved ones. You could not protect Westoros. From your failure, the fall of man shall dawn."

Bruce gripped the sword tighter in his hand, bringing it up, prepared to swing. "I will do it."

"Good, now swing, and show your honor."

Bruce swung the sword down. His blood burned with equal parts fiery hatred and chilling regret. But Bruce could not follow through, and he slowed his sword to only tap the neck of the man before him sitting on his knees.

The man looked up at Bruce with hateful eyes, but the man's other features were ever-changing. His hair was shaggy blond one moment, and cut short and touched by fire the next. One heartbeat his nose was long and beaked, the next it was short and blunted. The only thing that never changed was his cold, hateful stare.

The figure he was conversing with spun around to face Bruce. Bruce could not bring himself to meet the figure's gaze. "You pause to kill this man?"

"This man has done no wrong."

"Lies!" Eddard Stark roared as he grabbed Bruce by the arm and jerked him forward. Bruce continued to avert his gaze. "Meet my eyes you coward. Stare into the eyes that you could not save."

Hesitantly, Bruce's eyes rose. Staring back at him were the cold, pale gray eyes of Ned Stark.

"Tell me what this man has done to deserve death," Bruce breathed.

Ned's face contorted in anger. "This man killed me."

Bruce stared back down at the man on his knees, to see that his features had rested to form a single identity. The bald head, taunting eyes, and tongueless mouth of Ser Ilyn Payne stared back up at him.

"This man was merely the blade, not the one that called for your head," Bruce sighed with oceans of regret.

Then the figure's face changed into the youthful, arrogant façade of Joffrey Baratheon. Bruce looked from the boy king back up to his former friend standing beside him. Both slayer and slain stood before Bruce, and he was helpless to change anything.

"You can kill him though. Now. Kill him now. The fools have made the error of bringing you to King's Landing, now show them the error of their ways. Break free of your bindings, sneak through the Red Keep, find Joffrey in his bed and slit his throat. Show them why Westoros should truly fear the Batman," Ned growled, his face reflecting a twisted pleasure in picturing the young bastard son spawned of incest dead and bloodied.

Bruce step back, dropping the sword clasped in his hand. He faltered in disbelief, both from the kneeling king and his fallen friend. "Those words, I knew Lord Eddard Stark, and he would never speak such hateful words.

Ned smiled a malicious, corrupt smile, and then his face changed. The unkempt brown hair was gone, replaced by stiff silver hair. The beard receded, becoming a well-kept gray goatee. Ned's gray eyes had burst, leaving dark emerald jewels glaring back. Ned was gone, and only Ra's Al Ghul remained.

"Hello, Shadow," his former mentor chimed.

"Ra's…"Bruce growled.

"Interesting, the first ghost, one you could not save. The second, one you sent to the afterlife with your own two hands…I wonder what the next shall be."

Bruce's fist tightened. "What do you want?"

Ra's spun, and picked up the sword Bruce had dropped. "Why do you allow such filth to remain breathing? And yet you deem me too dangerous to remain alive?"

Bruce made no defense.

"Very well." With a single swing of the sword, Joffrey's head fell to the white floor beneath them, and blood erupted from his neck.

Bruce lunged forward, his hands clawing for Ra's' neck. They fell together, Bruce on top, pressing the blade against his mentor's neck. "Why," he seethed.

"You still fail to do what needs to be done. Look again."

Confused, he looked over to the boy's head, only to see the features had once again begun to contort. The figure's features were in a never ending storm of changing hair, nose, mouth, but the eyes remained the same, always staring back at Bruce.

Ra's chuckled, "Do you know who that is Shadow? It is everyone. Every victim you have let die for your lack of resolution to do what must be done. Every killer, raper, criminal, that you allow to live for your grossly over enflamed sense of honor and moral righteousness. You must do as I taught you."

"You wanted me to become you! You never instructed, only tried to mold me into YOU!" Bruce roared. The sword dug more into his mentor's neck, small trickles of blood streamed down its silver scape like tears down a babe's face.

Ra's glared back up into Bruce's eyes with one last chuckle. "Whoever said that I wanted you to become me?"

His mentor began to chuckle, but then laughed, and the laughing soon turned to uncontrollable cackling. Then Ra's' face grew pale white. His hair slowly turned a deep green, and his lips grew a bright red. His piercing emerald eyes lit up with a burning fire that made Bruce feel as if he would fall into them should he continue to meet their gaze. "Perhaps I love you just the way you are Brucey! HAHAHAHAAHAAAA!"

Bruce was shoved awake. He was still chained to the wall in the same dark cell he was in the day before, and the day before that.

"Apologies, Lord Wayne," Lord Petyr Baelish chimed with a pleased smile.

Bruce was stripped of his armor. The cold stone of the cell chilled his bare skin to the touch. His jaw was coated in rough scruff, and his hair was greasy and shaggy.

"Baelish."

Littlefinger sat in the chair opposite him, as they began their conversation that they had each day.

"Apologies for your treatment, but you are far too dangerous a man to allow to run free throughout the city."

"I wasn't in the city. You brought me here."

Nodding, Littlefinger smiled. "Yes, yes I did. I am a collector, of sorts. I collect information. Queen Cersei and Jaime Lannister's secret, as I'm sure you are aware of as well, the true nature of Jon Arryn's death, where the last of the Targaeryan line is, how many prisoners I have down here, and now, the answer to 'who is the Batman?'"

"Are you only here to taunt me Baelish? To hold my secret over me? So that if you release me you can use my identity against me to keep me silent?" Bruce groaned in irritation.

Baelish shook his head. "No, such ploys would work on lesser men, but not one as strong, and clever as you."

"Now for compliments. Just ask your question and move on," Bruce groaned.

"Very well, where is Nanda Perbat?"

Every day since Baelish had first awoken Bruce in this cell, he had asked that question. Where is Nanda Perbat, where is the fabled white castle that the League of Shadows called home.

With a subtle smile, Baelish asked again. "Where is it Lord Wayne? If it were your own hidden castle, I would plainly see why you would strive so hard to protect its location, but the League outcast you. You killed its former master, and now that master's daughter has tried to kill you. She would have nearly succeeded had it not been for my intervention."

"If you wish to know so desperately, abduct one of Talia's men and hold him prisoner," Bruce retorted.

Chuckling, Littlefinger brushed the question aside. "I don't have the time for such fancies. I have you now, and so I desire the question answered. Thus far my hospitality has been generous, but continue so stubbornly down this path, I will find a need to escalate my measures."

Littlefinger left without his answer, as he always did. Bruce was curious as to why the man was so desperate to find where the hidden temple of the League of Shadows was, but because of the constant stream of whatever mixture Littlefinger forced down Bruce's weakened throat, he could not think as quickly or sharply as he should. His mind was a constant cloud, giving good reason to the fevered dreams he had been having. Whether he was dreaming during the night or during the day he did not know, the cell was blacker than a night without stars. He had lost track of how long he had been in this prison.

Bruce slept once more for a few hours later, and was once again shaken awake. This time his aggravator held a torch, and was certainly not Littlefinger. The man has shoulder length, bright blonde hair, with matching stubble coating his jaw. His eyes were a deep blue, like the sea, and he was dressed as a sellsword or seaman.

"Aye, so you're awake now are ya? Good, let's be gettin' you out of here."

Harvey: Chapter 1

The capital had become a dark, somber place since Lord Stark's death. His daughter remained here as a guest, but in truth was a prisoner. Arya had been missing since the day of the execution. Whether she was alive or dead, he did not know, no one seemed to.

Littlefinger passed him. The smile that usually graced the Master of Coin's lips plainly showing how pleased with himself that he was was missing. His lips were pursed in irritation.

Whoever pissed you off, I'd buy them a cup of ale if I could.

Harvey could feel himself being dragged down by the dark cloud that surrounded him. Joffrey had proved to be the king most whispered about but dare not say. He was gaining disfavor with the smallfolk increasingly as each day passed. Queen Cersei did as she could, but even she had begun to lose control of her son when he was in one of his little fits.

Varys had gone unseen for a week now, even missing their Small Council meeting. Baelish had been in a particularly pleasant mood for the meeting's duration as a result. The council had been brief, Harvey was asked to sit in to fill one of the empty seats. Lord Tywin had been appointed Hand of the King, but from the reports from the battlefield up north, the Lannister lord showed no signs of coming to his grandson's beck and call. To make matters worse, with Ser Barristan Selmy in exile, and Jaime Lannister in shackles, there was no one to fill the role of Commander of the King's Guard.

The gaping holes in the government had not gone unnoticed. More and more rumors and worried whispers rose up from the streets. Stannis Baratheon had been recruiting ships and men to rally under him. He had even gone so far as to send ravens with letters declaring he was the true, rightful heir to the throne as Joffrey Baratheon was spawned of incest from his mother and seemingly uncle. It had been news to many, but not to Harvey. There had been several instances when Harvey had gone to the King's chambers, or to Jaime's only to hear the moans of lovers intertwined. Everyone in the Red Keep knew the sounds of the King when he was making love, and if the rumors of the chambermaids were true, the Queen and King had not been intimate in quite some time.

Jaime you fool. You could have any woman in the Seven Kingdoms and you choose the one related to you, and with daggers in her cunt.

Stannis' brother Renly, previously a member of the Small Council, had also called for banners. Tens of thousands were rumored to be rallying underneath Renly in Storm's End. Should those numbers prove true, all they need do would be to march up the King's Road and take the capital by force. With King's Landing in its current state, overtaking the city would be easy for a force of that size.

Morale was down in the capital as well. With new of Tywin having been fooled by Robb Stark, the rebellion leader of but six-and-ten. Jaime was now the boy's prisoner. The famed Kingslayer, greatest swordsman in Westoros, was now a prisoner to a boy who had never even been to war before. With every army mounting around them the kingdom's, and the Lannister's, futures seemed uncertain.

The one force Harvey was wondering where they were, was Batman. Apparently Batman has not been seen for a few months in Gotham. With the Joker successfully arrested and being held in Arkham Asylum however, it would seem the crazed madman was not the reason. Had one of the other devils of the city claimed his life? Penguin, Catwoman, Edward Nigma, they seemed to be crawling out from every dark corner. It was no coincidence that Harvey's mind was plagued with these concerns, as he heard a clamoring from beyond the doors to the Throne room.

The doors burst open as a man pushed past the guards with panic in his eyes. The king had been having a private meeting with the Small Council.

Joffrey's anger immediately reared its ugly head. "Who told you that you were permitted to enter?"

Before the guard could respond a voice called out from behind him, "I did, Your Grace."

The voice's source strode into the hall with a confident, resigned gait. He was dressed in fine black robes with a white doublet underneath. The man had a strong, flat chin, and piercing dark brown eyes. His eyebrows were thin, brown streaks raised to make a pleasant expression. His hands were raised in peace above his bald head.

"Apologies, Your Grace, for the rude entrance, but I have a manner that is of the utmost urgency."

Joffrey signaled the guard to withdraw, as he sat back in his throne, pleased. This stranger knew how to kiss a king's ass. The king nodded for the stranger to continue.

"Your Grace, there is a threat bearing down on this kingdom the likes of which is unprecedented. Yes, the Baratheons sit in their camps and prepare for war as children would, squabbling brothers. The young boy wins a single victory and thinks himself a king. But we all know that you are the true king. These matters of usurpers will be dealt with swiftly enough, but there is a much graver threat rising. One that if you do not squash now, could grow to change the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms," the man went on, his deep, smooth voice echoing off the stone walls.

Joffrey looked pleased as ever with the constant grooming his hubris was receiving. "And what would this threat be, ser…?"

The man bowed, "Lord, Your Grace. Lord Alexander Luthor of a city very far from here. I have come because word has spread across seas and kingdoms of the epidemic your kingdom faces."

"And what threat would that be, my lord?" Joffrey replied.

Lord Luthor smiled. "I have heard tales of this Batman, and his young ward. The Joker, Catwoman, and the other filth that Gotham has festered. Of this foreign raven haired beauty the people lift up as Wonder Woman. Then there's even graver whisperings. Three trees were found outside this city's walls. They were not cleanly axed down, no, these had the marks of fists against them. Some were splintered as if they were but twigs. A man did this, with his bare hands."

He paused to give a quick glance to the king and council to see if he had their attention. "If such threats are not watched with caution, and eliminated if necessary, then soon these 'heroes' could give smallfolk hope. It could inspire them to revolt against your wise rule, in favor of the chaos and madness that such idols as Batman would provide. I know Your Grace is busy with the dealings of war and politics, so I have come so very far to simply, humbly offer my resources to finding and stopping these figures before their arrogance causes irreversible damage."

Harvey looked to the King, whose eyes were alight with thoughts of arrogance, death, and persecution. Gods save us.

Another week, another new DC villain!