There are so, so, so many people.
Clark isn't unfamiliar with crowded spaces. He is, in fact, quite used to the traffic of Metropolis' railway stations and the hustle of the Daily Planet. He's walked the city streets countless times and never felt like he had to turn his head up before taking a breath. But here, Clark is trapped in what is supposed to be a large room; yet, it's filled to the brim with both Metropolis and Gotham's highest elite.
It doesn't help that he's larger than average. Standing a good few heads above everyone else, Clark has to fight the itch of his nose at every passerby thanks to the perfumes and colognes that waft up his direction. He suppresses it only because the thought of sneezing on some poor person's head is far worse than his nightmares of his teeth falling out or realizing he forgot his pants at his apartment.
Hands reach out and touch at every opportunity. Most are gracious and opt to pass Superman's hand around like some strange game of hot potato. By the time Clark is learning one person's name, the hand is replaced by someone else's.
Thirty minutes in, he gives up on remembering anyone. Williams and Constantines wash over him like a wave of words. There's a Kean and a Wayne and Clark thinks he met the person that owns his apartment complex. It's hard to say for sure.
"Ambassador!"
"Mr. El, have you met my wife?"
"Ambassador Kal-El, you look positively stunning this evening! Is this authentic Kryptonian wear?"
"Who knew our very own Superman would be touching glasses with the likes of us simpleton?"
The laugh that last one earns is grating and Clark has to excuse himself.
He flutters around the room, trying and failing to avoid every single person. It is the most organized chaos Clark has ever seen and it makes him question how anyone could willingly join a gala like this. Even the reporters -Jimmy waves his camera from across the room- seem unsure as of why exactly they're even here.
There is no fundraisers to donate to. No charities to discuss or new events to celebrate. While yes, it's quite exciting for Gotham and Metropolis to throw a gala like this together -organized by both mayors' orders- it leaves much to be expected.
"Hey, Super-uh, Ambassador Kal-El!" Jimmy smiles as he flashes a picture. He looks at the result, then addresses Clark properly.
Or, as properly as he can without knowing they've actually been co-workers for years and friends for nearly as long.
"Hello, Mr. Olsen." Clark bows to Jimmy as nobly as he can muster. His red shoulder drape moves with him, flowing and spilling onto the floor in an elegant pile.
It's a Kryptonian piece, something to replicate his father's own from the Fortress. Ma both cooed at it once Clark had managed to finish sewing the prototype. Pa clapped a hand on his back and gave him that proud smile that makes Clark melt a little into his arms.
Then, Clark paid a professional to bring his sad attempts to life, using something as close to Kryptonian materials as possible on Earth.
He almost regrets the effort put into it, with how every. single. person. has commented on it, ran their fingers over it, and held up the cloth to show others who were very much already seeing it.
"Could we get a quick quote from you, Mr. Superman, Sir? Do you know why exactly Mayor James and Mayor Berkowitz threw this gala? Do you think it has anything to do with the recent pictures of the Dark Bat, as rumors say?"
Batman? Did they finally catch a real picture of him? If so, how did Clark not hear about this? Sure, he's not present in the Gotham Gazette, but to finally have a picture of Gotham's possibly-a-cryptid vigilante is big news.
"I'm not sure, unfortunately," Clark says at last. "My invitation came personally from Mayor Berkowitz. I know nothing more than that."
Jimmy flashes another picture of him as he continues. "I wondered why you were here. Superman isn't exactly known for staying in one place at a time. What if crime rises in the city? Will you leave to do your duty, or keep your word to the mayor?"
"I, uh-"
"Ambassador Kal-El." Clark startles at the sudden voice behind him. He turns to see a very tired-looking man blinking up at him as if he weren't nearly being knocked over by every person who passes him. "You are requested by Mayor Berkowitz. If you'd come with me..."
"Of course!" Clark nods to Jimmy as he retreats with the man. A final picture flashes as he leaves and Clark can only shake his head in amusement. He better not find them under another article questioning if Superman has been dragged into political disputes or bought out by some rich snob.
He can only do so much to defend himself without writing the countering articles himself.
They move swiftly through the room. Anyone who attempts to speak with Clark is turned away by the man in front of him -likely an assistant of some kind- and they continue onward until they reach a side office guarded by men nearly as large as Clark. They were suits, shades, and earpieces. The full picture of security.
But Clark can see that one of them is nearly asleep on his feet and the other is twitching with his left hand, humming a song just under his breath, too quiet to hear above the gothic waltz playing overhead.
Down a long hallway and through another door, Clark finds himself in a room with four other people. Five, including his escort, but that man quickly leaves and shuts the door behind him.
Mayor James, of Gotham, nods to Clark calmly, but his heart says otherwise. It beats quickly and only grows quicker. Next to him, Mayor Berkowitz sits against his chair with an unreadable expression.
Beside Clark sits a gorgeous man whom he's sure he's met tonight but cannot for the life of him remember his name. His features are striking, enough so that Clark could pick him out in the ballroom if he had to. Pale skin, grey-blue eyes, and a dangerous quick of his eyebrow. His hair is smoothed back for the most part, leaving a few strands tickling at his forehead. It looks both completely intended and like they've fallen loose at their own will. It's such a strange contrast that Clark can't help but wonder who exactly he is and why they're both standing in front of both mayors.
"Ambassador El." Mayor Berkowitz acknowledges him with a nod. "You've met Mr. Wayne, haven't you?"
The man -Wayne- gives him a wink. "Oh, I certainly remember meeting you." It throws off any greeting Clark had prepared.
"I...Yes." Clark tears his gaze away from Mr. Wayne's. "Is there something you need?"
Like why he's here to begin with?
"Mayor James here was just telling me they had an arrangement they would like to discuss. Something to do with...crime rates, was it?" Wayne turns on the Mayor and Clark can see a defensive set of James' jaw.
Even so, Mayor James' heart patters faster. "That's right."
Whatever history these two have, it isn't as friendly as they like others to think.
"Wonderful." Mayor Berkowitz stands from his seat and the file he set out on his desk. He spreads it open and it only takes Clark a moment to see everything it's detailing.
Crime in Gotham for the past five years. The way it spiked to record-breaking levels until their Bat showed. The scale lowers, but it's on another incline and this one is steep.
"Joker. Two-Face. Poison Ivy! Harvy Quinn- I mean, really!" Mayor James' face goes red as he angrily refers to the paper. "I know Gotham has its problems -down to the roots- but this?! These aren't just criminals anymore! This is anarchy! Anarchy -and it won't stop, no matter whatever that Man-Bat tries! Batman, sorry! We already have a Man-Bat!"
Clark watches Wayne's reaction closely. Or, his lack of reaction. He looks as if he couldn't care less about Gotham's crime rates or the rogues who are slowly taking over the underground. He just spins in his chair from side to side, his face resting on his fist.
"What do you want me to do? Pay them to stop doing crime?" Wayne laughs. "Isn't that what the GCPD is for?"
Mayor James gawks at the comment and Mayor Berkowitz takes over.
"You see, Mayor James is concerned for this...pattern." He points to the increasing crime rate. "You're nearly back where you started before the Batman showed up. Gotham already has a deadly reputation and with no tourism to offer, your economy will soon give out. Including you, Mr. Wayne. I highly doubt even your Enterprise could survive a crash like that."
Again, Wayne looks like he couldn't be bothered.
"-Which is why we're asking you, Superman, to offer Gotham your services."
Wayne's heart rate skips a beat. Clark's does too.
"My...My services?"
Mayor Berkowitz rounds the desk to place a hand on Clark's shoulder. Not controlling but in an offer of friendship. "You've done just marvelous work here in Metropolis and I think a man of your skill could really put Gotham rogues in their place. A true show that good will always conquer evil."
"Mayor-"
Clark is cut off. "Those people need hope, Superman. They need someone who can promise them a better tomorrow. And...well, I can't think of anyone more fit for the job."
Wayne's carefree attitude is all but gone. His bored expression has sharpened into a deep frown. "That's all fine, but if your offer is for Superman, then why am I here?"
Both mayors exchange a look. James takes it from there.
"Because Metropolis will suffer from losing their hero's undivided attention. So, in exchange, Gotham will offer another hero of our own. You, Bruce Wayne, will bet up a branch of your company in Metropolis. You'll go to their galas, donate to their charities, and possibly partner with LexCorp-"
"No way in hell am I doing that!" Wayne snaps. "After everything I've done for Gotham, I don't deserve to be treated like this!"
Mayor James rolls his eyes. "Oh, please. We need Superman and Metropolis certainly doesn't need some Bat running around their city. It's all we can offer-"
"Then offer someone else's money!"
"You're getting awful defensive, Mr. Wayne. Care to explain?" Is James' snide remark.
Wayne stands from his seat. He's yelling now, his finger pointing accusingly at the mayor's chest. "I made this city! Gotham stands on my damn shoulders! I fun the hospitals, the schools, the job market, the fucking asylum! Don't you dare tell me that's not enough!"
"Don't act so high and mighty when you spend every night drunk in your own damn courtyard-"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne," Mayor Berkowitz interrupts, a nice calm compared to the other two. "But money can only do so much. I know Gotham relies heavily on your gracious charities, but these rogues are still forming pockets of crime under your streets and in your sewers. It's best you let Superman handle what you can't and you give Metropolis what little charity you have left."
Clark suddenly feels exactly as alien as he is. Three humans with much more influence on this planet than him. Him, a Kryptonian 'Ambassador' from a planet only he knows is gone. Blown up.
He's a reporter. A...
No. He's a farmer boy from Smallville. A Kent.
He doesn't belong in this conversation.
But Superman does, so Clark stays.
"...Fine." Wayne spits. "Fine, but I'm not partnering with LexCorp! I'd sooner go sober and abstinent than let that fucker anywhere near Wayne Enterprises!"
"And that's fine, Mr. Wayne." Mayor Berkowitz soothes. "All I ask is your name, your presence, and your charity."
Wayne's eyes snap to Clark. The weight of that glare is far heavier than he thought it would be. This man isn't just angry, there's a very real threat behind those eyes.
But even so, the heat lessens within a few seconds.
"And you?" Wayne asks, some of his sultry tone returning. It makes him sound like he's aggressively flirting. "Are you going to let them order you around?"
Clark tries not to swallow visibly. This offer...is a lot. Asking him to watch over all of Metropolis and Gotham is a lot. He'll be stretching himself thinner than he already is. His time at the Planet will get more haggard. He'll be slipping away with more and more excuses -though, with Superman gone half the time, an excuse to catch him in a rare moment the hero is available wouldn't be completely unreasonable.
But at the end of the day, he's being asked to help people who are struggling to live. How can he say no to that?
"I accept this offer." He nods to Mayor Berkowitz, then James. "But know that I have to hold priority over Metropolis. I will work with Batman to stop Gotham's crime, not for him."
"That's all we can ask." Mayor Berkowitz says.
After signing a paper contract -both for Superman to be allowed access to Gotham's GCPD records and for Bruce Wayne to be on at least nine of Metropolis' charity fundraisers- and a few uncomfortable handshakes, the meeting is dismissed.
Wayne walks by Clark's side as they exit the room, leaving both mayors to continue their conversation. Clark picks up James discussing his overwhelming optimism for this plan, as well as an apology for his behavior. Berkowitz falls into a stern role as he actually lectures James on being so argumentative-
"This isn't going to last," Wayne says, suddenly. He waits for Clark to look down at him before continuing. "You don't know Gotham. The city's gonna eat you up and spit you back into your little utopia of a steel trap."
Ah. The unnerving anger again.
"I understand your concerns, but I only want to help in any way I can."
Wayne's lip twitches and he looks like he's about to snap something else, but his muscles relax like a wave down his body, starting from his neck. His heart slows and his mouth stretches into an easy smile. "You really are a boy scout." The smile falters slightly. "Fine, I'll warn you now, just because I feel bad for you. Gothamites are used to Batman. So are the rogues. Going in all guns and flashing lights is more likely to scatter them to the shadows than actually get rid of them."
He understands the message. No punching before thinking. He'll need to be careful if he wants to make any kind of a difference.
Then again, if that's what Batman has been doing and it's still done little to dissuade the crime rates, is that really the best method?
"I appreciate it, Mr. Wayne."
Wayne huffs out a laugh and offers his hand. "Please, call me Bruce." Clark takes Wayne -Bruce's hand and he's surprised by the strength behind it.
He's equally as surprised when Bruce steps close, his lips ghosting against Clark's ear.
"Don't fuck up my city, Kal-El."
Clark is already beginning to regret taking this offer.
I have no plan for this story, so I'll see where it goes. I do some of my best work that way!