Author's Note: So, the Man of Steel movie is full of great moments, but one of my favorite summer comic-book-themed moments has actually been from the most recent Batman Beyond Unlimited comic where it is revealed that old Mr. Dick Grayson and the new/futuristic Catwoman have a casual/sexual relationship. After taking a moment to laugh and find that awesome (and far more interesting than her flirting with Terry), I decided that I had to work it into this story. So I did... enjoy! ~ Tsuki

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I don't own any characters mentioned in this story. The rights belong to DC comics, Bob Kane, etc.

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Darkness Cannot Drive, Part 21/? (Beyond Broken: Chapter Three)

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Dick Grayson stares out over the Neo-Gotham skyline, his dead eye aching in its socket. He has a headache and a hint of heartburn, and even the thought of those make him truly feel like an old man. A brief memory of his youth celebrates slightly as the sheets on his bed shift with the heavy breath of a coffee-skinned young woman, gorgeous and deadly. Sometimes he's shocked at how much of a Bat-cliche he's turned out to be. Sometimes he pretends that he doesn't care.

"Are you going to stay up all night brooding?" she sighs from the bed. Grayson tries not to wince at the likely trueness of the statement.

"No. Just thinking. You should go back to sleep."

A scornful snort follows and he hears the shifting of cloth and limbs as the woman (more like girl, he reminds himself) known as Catwoman wraps thin yet strong arms around his waist. "Yeah, well, your thinking is loud. And annoying. Either go help him, or come to bed."

Dick tries to flash a glare her way, but he finds that the effect is negligible with only one eye. Besides, the sexy sarcasm machine and daughter of a nuclear-physicists-turned-supervillain has proven herself just about immune to Bat-glares.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Grayson lies. He feels childish the moment the words leave his mouth.

"Yeah, sure, and I'm citizen of the year. Idiot." Soft lips are pressed against his bare shoulder. He hates how comforting that small motion is. He really should stop this, he knows. The daughter of Danton Black had specifically asked him once—taunted him, really—about how hooking up with an homage to the Batman's mot infamous cat-burglar could possibly help put his identity as a former member of the Bat-family behind him. He hadn't had an answer then and, truth be told, he doesn't have one now. He just stares out at the city's angular, cold horizon and stays silent.

"The kid's nice," she reminds him. "Why don't you help track him down, anyway?"

"It's not my business," Grayson reminds her, his voice harsh as if he's trying to convince himself as much as he is trying to convince her. "I'm sure it's under control."

"Uh, sure, whatever. But, I mean," she pauses to nibble on his neck a moment, "aren't you part of that whole Bat thing? So, it is your business, right?"

He shakes his head. "No. Maybe for the others but... he's not my family. The old man is—he's like my father. Adopted, but still. But the kid? He's just someone the old timer took under his wing. It's not on me."

Black's lips pause against his skin. She is tense and silent, and Grayson can't help but feel a moment of deja vu. He's said something like this before to a near-naked woman in his bedroom. It was when he was talking to Kori about Jason. 'You should get to know him,' she had insisted after Dick had raged about his newly discovered replacement. 'He is your family now, is he not?' He had bristled at that comment, insisted that this street kid that Batman had taken in was not his family, not his responsibility to train or to care for. He had regretted that moment of dismissal and rage for years after Jason's death. Dick wonders if history repeats itself—if he will find himself mourning another 'not family' member who he maybe could have helped.

"The kid's nice," Black repeats.

Grayson hesistates. "I know."

There is only another moment of silence before he turns toward the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower. Then I'm going out—there's one lead I can look into. If you stay here, don't steal anything."

Catwoman chuckles and Dick can't help but think that the sound is almost like a purr. "Don't worry. I've been here enough times to know there's nothing of yours worth stealing."

Grayson doesn't know whether he should be insulted or comforted by that. A hand on his cheek silences the confusion for a moment, however, as Black whispers: "I hope you find him."

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Lucinda Luthor breathes a heavy sigh as she steps out of the hotel's glass elevator. The Tokyo lights blink through the windows like dying stars, the orange glow of the Tokyo Tower illuminated in the famed horizon. It's late and she has been in meetings all day, a fixed smile painfully burnt into her face as the men around her chattered to each other, sometimes remembering to address her as the head of Lex Co. Japanese businessmen's attitudes toward women in the boardroom have, as far as Lucinda has researched, changed throughout the decades, but this week the managers at the Japanese branch have still made the mistake, time and time again, of talking to Luthor's male secretary rather than address her directly. She scowls and kicks off her spiked heels, walking the rest of the hotel hallway barefoot, and reminds herself of the bottle of 18-year aged Yamazaki whiskey that is waiting for her behind her hotel room door. At least that is a bright spot in her day...

When she opens the door to her hotel suit, she freezes. There's a tension in the air which sends a chill up her neck. Lucinda thumbs the switch behind her ear, activating her eye-piece, the room now tinted green in her iris as she scans the room. It takes less than ten seconds for a heat-signature to flash in her vision. It's faint—someone is using insulated body-armor to mask their presence—but still notable. "I don't know who you are, but I'm not in the mood to play games. Come out."

"Well, that was fast," a muffled voice chuckles. "But then, I shouldn't have expected less from a Luthor." Out of the shadows steps a man clad in black body armor, criss-crossing straps holding an array of vicious-looking weapons, his head shielded in a red helmet.

"Well, obviously you know who I am," Lucinda snaps, "but I can't say the same. Have we met?"

"Briefly seen each other, but the word 'met' would be a bit strong," the muffled voice chuckles. "Last time we were near each other, you were a tad distracted by a floating Kryptonian."

There is a brief flash of familiarity through Lucinda's memory and she nods. "Ah, my last India trip. You're one of those costumed heroes then?"

"More like a costumed figure with semi-questionable loyalty."

"Well, I suppose that is more interesting. Now," Luthor crosses her arms and sharpens her voice, "tell me why I shouldn't summon every one of my guards—robot and human alike—and have you strung up for breaking in to my room?"

"Because I'm not here to hurt you," the man in the helmet states flatly. "Well... most likely."

"Hmm, yes, that just fills me with loads of confidence. All right, so this little chat is over..." Lucinda moves her hand quickly to press the 'ALERT' button hidden beneath a bracelet on her left wrist.

"The man known as Batman is missing—" The man blurts out before she can press the alarm.

Luthor raises an eyebrow. "I see. And what exactly does that have to do with me?"

"The Himalayas," the intruder continues. "There's evidence that whoever took Batman was recently there. Like you were, for example."

"Are you accusing me of something?" Luthor laughs. "I assure you, I didn't take the Batman. He is of no use to me whatsoever. There's certainly nothing profitable about kidnapping the only completely human, completely powerless member of the so-called Justice League. And besides, my father rather liked his predecessor."

Lucinda hears a disbelieving half-snort from the confines of the mask. "He did?"

"Well," she sighs in response, "perhaps 'like' is a bit hyperbolic. He admired him. Batman was proof of what my father had been saying all along—humans have great potential. It just takes brilliance and determination. Batman was a perfect example of how we could defend ourselves against aliens and mutations. Ultimately, however, the great tragedy of the Batman is that he was one of us, but chose to pretend to be one of them. He protected them, championed their causes. A bit disgusting, really."

"Yeah, well, I have no love lost for metas and, sure, fuck the Justice League. But someone who just happened to be in the same area that you were recently just rolled into Gotham and kidnapped someone important. I'm just trying to figure out who I have to go after. I'm happy to believe it wasn't you, but bullshit if you don't have any idea who it could be. My guess is that it had to do with why you were there. Who were you meeting with, Luthor?"

"Again," Lucinda sighs, "as I told Superman—and as I believe you overheard—I am not beholden to answer your questions. I am a private citizen and..."

"Spare me," the masked man snaps, a tight anger echoing in the helmet's metal casing. "This is important, Luthor. Not some chess game between you and super-alien. Now, I will find out where he is, but if I have to waste my time and look somewhere else while you could have helped me save him, I swear to God I will make your life a living hell. If Batman is hurt, I will hunt you and I will ruin you. Is. That. Clear?" Lucinda is silent in response, her dark eyes sharp in anger. After a moment of silence, the masked man seems to falter, his voice slightly catching. "Look, I... I just need to find him. It's... it's important. Please."

There's an earnestness to his voice. Lucinda can't help but find that strange. After a moment, she finds herself sighing, her hand planted firmly on her hip. "I make it a policy to never negotiate with masked men. Take off the helmet, tell me your name, sit down with me and have a drink, and then I'll consider what information you deserve. There are untouched glasses in the bathroom—grab them for me, will you? And you're welcome to check and see that the whiskey on the desk is still sealed. This is no trap, I assure you."

Lucinda Luthor doesn't wait for a response as she turns and makes her way confidently down the hall and into the main area of the hotel suite. After a moment of waiting patiently, she hears shuffling feet behind her on the carpet and the soft clink of glasses.

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He finds that his eyes are open more often than before, but he cannot make sense out of what he sees. There are lights, bright white, and a faint beeping. Brief catches of the sound of human voices, but they are distant and strange, like a frequency that does not fully come in. He cannot move his arms or turn his head. There is something in his throat; it feels hard and makes it difficult for him to swallow. He doesn't know much, but he knows that he is terrified.

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Jason takes another sip and feels the warmth of the whiskey spread through his throat. This is... strange. Of all the different possibilities he had considered for how his confrontation with Luthor would go, none of them contained him sitting completely helmet-less, drinking whiskey, and just talking. He wonders briefly if his head injury from his fight with Big Time is more severe than he thought and this is just a hallucination.

But no, Luthor is still scoffing about how annoyingly overpriced the shops in Ginza district of Tokyo are with new tech, but how her security forces are against her going to more cyber-price-friendly regions because of the rise in T-Gang international presence. Jason murmurs an agreement, though he admits to spending more time in Roppongi because of his Yakuza connections.

The conversation is oddly civil, though Jason would be an idiot if he ever truly let his guard down around a Luthor. Still... Lucinda doesn't seem nearly as power-hungry as her biological father. She has strong feelings about security and anger and distrust of metas, but Jason agrees with many of her points. It was like he had once told Roy after their run-in with Superman: he didn't trust anyone or anything in the universe with that kind of power.

Lucinda sighs, rolling the whiskey glass between her fingers. "All right. I like you. And you have me intrigued. So, we're going to play a little game."

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Well, that already sounds dangerous. What are the rules?"

Luthor smirks, her dark eyes flashing as she takes a sip from her glass. "You want information from me. You have information that I would likely benefit from as well. So, we trade. We each get to ask one question for each one we answer. However, we both have information too valuable for petty games, so passing or not answering is acceptable."

Jason frowns. "So, what's the motivation to answer anything?"

Luthor shrugs. "As Shakespeare wrote, nothing can come of nothing. An answer on your part is the only way you get to ask a question and get answers of your own. Quid pro quo. Does this sound fair?"

Jason hesitates, his grip tightening on his glass. This is dangerous... yet very smart on Luthor's part. And he still has control over what information he gives up. "Fine. But I go first."

"Naturally—you're the one who wanted information so badly that you broke into my hotel room." There is a hint of dry humor and dark bitterness in Luthor's voice. "Go ahead."

"Alright. Do you know where Batman is?"

"No. My turn now."

"Hey! Wait—"

Lucinda's silver-painted nails clink against her glass. "You asked a yes-or-no question and I answered. Any further details come from future turns and questions. Now... does Superman have a human-disguise or 'secret identity'?"

Jason curses to himself. Yep, definitely a Luthor. "Yes. But don't bother asking further questions about that topic because I'll refuse to answer."

"I assumed as much. Just wanted verification," Lucinda chirps. "Next?"

Jason considers a moment. "Why were you in the Himalayas?"

"To meet with a temporary yet profitable business associate. What is your connection to Batman?"

Jason hesitates. "It's... complicated. I knew his predecessor."

Lucinda half-laughs in surprise. "When? Were you in diapers and a little onsie? Surely you can't be over thirty!"

"You can ask that question next, Luthor, but it's my turn. Who was your profitable business associate?"

"Pass. Ask something else."

Jason curses quietly and takes a warm sip of whiskey. He has a stupid desire to ask just how much she paid for the aged Yamazaki—he's fairly sure the bottle price was close to 200 credits—but he quickly shakes off the brief impulse and says: "Do you have any suspicion that your business associate might be the one behind Batman's disappearance?"

A look of genuine surprise and... something darker runs across Luthor's face. She frowns. "I... I'm not sure. I can't see why, but... my contact did seem quite interested in Gotham. However, I specifically kept my knowledge of my associate's goals and plans limited." She takes a drink and then smirks. "Who do you think is the most dangerous member of the Justice League?"

"Superman. No contest."

"Really? I've heard some argue Green Lantern." Lucinda Luthor's eyes gleam with interest.

"Hardly," Jason scoffs. "The ring requires will and concentration, both which can be broken. If you needed to stop Green Lantern, you could. But Superman requires will to not destroy literally everything around him at any second. Against him—you're battling a god, not just some meta. Now... you hesitated when you considered if your business associate had taken the Batman. Why?"

"He scares me. Slightly." Luthor admits this with a tone which hints at bitter begrudging. "I got the sense he'd be capable of anything and he certainly seemed to be planning something... large. So, how old are you, anyway?"

Jason coughs. "Pass. Let's just say I tangoed with your dad once or twice."

"Really? Now I'm especially intrigued. Okay... what is a piece of information which I would find valuable for Lex Co.?"

Jason nods. A smart and very open question—definitely a Luthor. "The T-Gang expansion is being stalled by the Organization and the Yakuza. There's a definite tension, likely soon to be direct antagonism there. If you can make friends with Yakuza or Organization contacts, you'll be more likely to have any tech you ship through China or Japan go untouched by T's."

"I suspected as much, but that is helpful to have your confirmation and perspective. Thank you."

Jason half-shrugs. "No problem. Where did you go specifically in the Himilayas? I didn't see a structure anywhere on the mountain you were walking down. If a person there could have Batman, I want coordinates."

Luthor is silent a moment as she takes another sip of whiskey. Jason's breath is tight in his throat. He expects Luthor to pass, but the question was one he needed to ask, just in case. But she stays silent for another moment and another drink of the Yamazaki.

"I think we're done here," Luthor sighs. "We've reached the end of this game round."

"What?" Jason's hands tighten on the hotel chair, his teeth grinding. "It's one thing to pass, but then I get another question. You can't just cancel the game!"

"I'm not canceling," Lucinda smirks. "I'm simply post-poning. This is like a seventh inning stretch, if you will."

"I don't understand what you mea—" Jason doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence when Lucinda presses a small button on her bracelet, and a thick green smoke sprays into Jason's face. He coughs, his eyes burning, his lungs tightening. He feels himself start to collapse in his chair, his head filling with a thick fog and his thoughts becoming more difficult with every moment.

As he falls forward, the hotel carpet rushing forward to meet him. 'And that,' he is able to curse to himself briefly as everything starts to fade to darkness., is why you never let your guard down around a Luthor.'

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TO BE CONTINUED...