Chapter 1: A Night in Gotham

The alley reeked of brine and decay, the scent clinging to the damp bricks and the rusted metal of the overflowing dumpsters. A rat scuttled across the uneven cobblestones, its tiny claws scraping in the silence. Two figures, barely visible in the inky blackness, stood tensely beside a stack of crates stenciled with yellow lettering.

A grappling line whistled through the air, embedding itself in the brickwork above. Batman dropped silently behind them, his cape billowing in the sudden gust of wind.

"Not tonight, Get out of my town!" Batman's voice was a low growl, amplified by the cowl.

The ensuing fight was brief and brutal. Batman moved with a practiced efficiency, disarming the two thugs in a matter of seconds. The two thugs proved to be no match for the Dark Knight's superior skill and strength. Within minutes, both men were lying unconscious on the ground, their wrists bound with bat-cuffs.

As the police sirens wailed in the distance, Batman stood over his defeated foes, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. It was a small victory, a minor black market deal foiled, in the endless cycle of crime that plagued Gotham. Tonight, he had made a difference.

He grappled back up to the rooftops, disappearing into the night.

Chapter 2: The Twisted Reality

The sheets were twisted around his legs, a damp weight despite the cool air conditioning that whispered through the Wayne Manor bedroom. There on the bed was Bruce Wayne. He thrashed, a low groan escaping his lips. His brows furrowed, his jaw clenched tight. A suffocating weight began to press on his chest as a nightmare held him captive.

His grappling line still attached, he flew through an unfamiliar sight. A twisted, broken, skyline of Metropolis warped into a grotesque parody of itself. Smoke choked the air, a thick, acrid haze that stung his eyes and filled his lungs with the taste of ash. Bruce coughed in his sleep, his body instinctively recoiling from the imagined fumes.

Bruce shifted in his sleep, his face contorted in a grimace. A low moan escaped his lips, a sound of distress echoing through the silent bedroom.

But it wasn't the devastated city that made his heart seize in his chest. It was the sight of Superman, suspended in mid-air, imprisoned within a cage of jagged Kryptonite. Its sickly green glow illuminated the fear in Clark's eyes, a fear that Bruce had never seen before.

A whimper escaped Bruce's lips, a low, guttural sound of distress.

His breathing grew shallow and rapid, his heart pounding against his ribs like a drum. A sheen of sweat coated his brow.

Lex Luthor, his face contorted in a mask of cruel triumph, circled the cage. "Such power," Luthor's voice boomed, amplified by some unseen device, echoing across the ruined city, "and yet so easily broken. The world's greatest hero, brought down by a simple rock."

Clark struggled against the Kryptonite, his muscles spasming, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The vibrant blue of his eyes was clouded, replaced by a sickly green, his skin pale and clammy.

Bruce's own breath quickened in his chest, mirroring Clark's struggle.

He tossed and turned, the silk sheets tangling around his limbs. His hands clenched into fists, the knuckles white.

"This isn't over, Luthor!" Clark's voice was a hoarse whisper, barely audible above the crackling energy of the Kryptonite.

Luthor laughed, a cold, hollow sound that sent shivers down Batman's spine.

Bruce's hands clenched into fists beneath the sheets.

"But it is, Superman. The world thinks you abandoned them. They see you for what you truly are - an alien, a freak."

Chapter 3: An Agonizing Defeat

Panic surged through Bruce. He had to rescue Clark. Batman materialized from the shadows, cape swirling around him, batarangs glinting at his belt. "Luthor!" he growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble.

A muffled cry escaped his lips, a sound of frustration and fear. He thrashed against the invisible bonds of the nightmare, desperate to break free.

Luthor turned, a sneer twisting his lips. "Ah, the Bat. Come to play the hero? How touching. But ultimately, futile."

Batman launched himself at Luthor, a fist connecting with Luthor's jaw. Luthor stumbled back, surprised by the force of the blow. He snarled, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip. "You'll pay for that, you overgrown rodent!"

The fight was a blur of fists and fury. Batman, fueled by adrenaline and fear for Clark, fought with a ferocity that surprised even himself. He ducked under Luthor's wild swing, countering with a kick to the ribs. Luthor gasped, clutching his side. But he wasn't down yet. He pulled a taser from his belt, the bright, energy crackling menacingly.

"This will slow you down," Luthor hissed, lunging at Batman. The taser connected with Batman's arm, sending a jolt of agonizing pain through his body. Batman cried out, stumbling back. The world around him seemed to tilt, the edges blurring.

Bruce's body convulsed, a sharp intake of breath followed by a choked sob. A hand went to arm, the phantom pain of the taser going through his limb. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, tracing paths through the stubble on his cheeks.

No! He couldn't give up! Clark needed him!

He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain, and launched himself at Luthor again...

He never reached him. Luthor snapped his fingers, and the Kryptonite cage erupted in an intense green light. Clark screamed, a raw, agonizing sound that ripped through Batman's soul. He lurched forward, his hand outstretched, but the light was blinding, all-consuming…

Chapter 4: Waking to Fear

Bruce woke with a gasp, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs, his body slick with sweat. He sat up, the sheets tangled around him, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The remnants of the nightmare clung to him, the echo of Clark's scream and the searing pain of the taser reverberating through his arm. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet hitting the plush carpet of the bedroom floor.

"Alfred!" he barked, his voice hoarse.

"Sir?" Alfred appeared in the doorway, his face etched with concern. "Is everything alright?"

"Get me... get me Clark Kent on the line. Now!"

Alfred, ever the picture of composure, even at this ungodly hour, merely nodded. "Very good, sir." He turned to leave, then paused. "Might I suggest a less... forceful approach? Mr. Kent may not appreciate being roused from his slumber with such urgency."

"He'll understand," Bruce muttered, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. He couldn't shake the feeling of dread that clung to him, the chilling echo of Luthor's laughter still ringing in his ears.

Alfred, with a knowing glance, retreated to make the call. Bruce paced the room, his anxiety growing with each passing second. He checked his watch – 3:15 AM. What was taking so long? Was Clark even at the farm? Had Luthor already...? He pushed the thought away, refusing to let the nightmare dictate his reality.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Alfred returned. "Mr. Kent is on the line, sir. He sounds... rather bewildered."

Bruce snatched the phone from Alfred's outstretched hand. "Clark? Clark, are you alright?"

"Bruce?" Clark's voice was thick with sleep. "What's going on? Is something wrong?"

"I need to know you're okay," Bruce said, his voice urgent, the fear he'd felt in the nightmare bleeding into his tone. "I need to know you're safe."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Bruce," Clark said slowly, "I'm in Smallville. I'm at the farm. I'm safe. What's this about?"

Bruce hesitated, unsure how to explain the nightmare, the chillingly vivid vision of Clark trapped and tortured. "I just… I needed to hear your voice."

Another pause, then Clark chuckled softly. "Okay, Bruce. I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

But sleep was the last thing on Bruce's mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that the nightmare was more than just a dream. He hung up the phone, his gaze drifting towards the Batcomputer. He had to know what Luthor was up to. He had to make sure this nightmare didn't become reality.

"Alfred," Bruce said, turning back to his ever-faithful butler, "I need full access to LexCorp's servers. I want to know everything they're working on, every project, every experiment. Especially anything related to Kryptonite."

Alfred, though clearly concerned by Bruce's agitated state, simply nodded. "Of course, sir."

As Alfred set to work, Bruce couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease. The nightmare felt too real, too vivid. And the fear in Clark's eyes…that was something he couldn't ignore. He had a feeling this was just the beginning.