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“We’re not calling ourselves the Justice Gang,” Hawkgirl paused to flip off Green Lantern, before continuing to flip through the files Mr. Terrific had placed on the table.
“Hey! That sand dude said it was a great name!” Guy defended with a smirk.
“Regardless of that glowing review,” Mr. Terrific pursed his lips,” We need to think about this seriously. If we want to continue to receive Lord’s funding, then we have to grow our…organization."
“The Justice Gang.”
“The name is still pending, Green Lantern. Now, can we please take a moment to review potential candidates?”
“What’s the point? We’re just going to choose Big Blue anyway,” Green Lantern spun around in his chair and tossed a piece of popcorn into the air. He missed catching it.
“You fucking idiot, four people isn’t what Lord has in mind.”
“Hawkgirl is correct. And Green Lantern, you have to admit Superman may have no inclination to join us, especially given recent events.”
“Still can’t believe he has a secret harem,” Guy muttered.
“He doesn’t have a- You know what? I’m not going to bother,” Hawkgirl shook her head.
“Can we please get back to the matter at hand?”
“That depends, what’s the matter at hand?” Guy blinked as Superman strolled into the conference room, stupid red cape flowing behind him.
“Superman,” Mr. Terrific greeted,” We didn’t think you’d come.”
“Lois pointed out that it would be rude not to. Seeing as how you saved me and all. Besides,” He paused to pull out a chair at the table,” I’m curious. Your invitation was vague.”
“We’re trying to expand our organization.”
“The Justice Gang.”
“Is that really what you’re calling it?” Superman raised an eyebrow at Guy.
“It is a working title ,” Hawkgirl seethed.
“Okay, tough subject, got it. Why did you tell me to come here?”
“We’d like to formally invite you to join us,” Terrific paused,” As long as the dog doesn’t come with.”
“Krypto? No, he’s back with my cousin.”
“You have a cousin? Oh I knew it! You do have a secret harem!”
“How did you go from cousin to harem ?” Hawkgirl punctuated her words with a punch to Green Lantern’s shoulder.
“And we’re getting off topic again. The point of this meeting is to add more members to our team.”
“And you want me?”
“No shit, you’re Superman . You have a harem ! That is so cool!”
“I do not have a harem.”
“That’s right, I forgot about your little reporter girlfriend.”
“Lois is not my girlfriend.”
“Can we just look at the fucking candidates? Please?” Terrific nodded to the stack of files on the table.
“Who died and made you king?” Guy muttered, but picked up a file anyway.
“You think I want to be in charge of you fuckers? Pick someone good and I’ll go back to not dealing with your asses.”
“Okay, look. I appreciate all your help, I do. I just think I’m doing fine on my own.” Superman did look apologetic, in the stupid, earnest way of his. Guy hated it.
“Are you serious?” Hawkgirl pointed to the TV in the conference room, which was playing news footage of the battle in Jarhanpur.
“I,” He sighed,” Look, you’re directly funded by Maxwell Lord, and I think I’ve had my fair share of billionaires for now.”
“Lord doesn’t get involved in our affairs, and the second we become self-sufficient he’s promised to take a step back,” Terrific pointed out. Superman paused.
“Is that a guarantee?”
“I mean, it’s written into our contracts,” Green Lantern tossed another piece of popcorn into the air, managing to catch it in his mouth this time.
Hawkgirl was disgusted.
“If you can promise me he won’t get involved in our work, then I’ll consider it,” Superman paused,” Who else are you looking at? What’s in the files?”
“Biographies of various heroes across the country. I’ve compiled known information about active superheroes and metahumans that appear to fit with our goals.” Green Lantern nodded at Terrific’s words and flipped through the file he was holding.
“The Flash,” He read aloud,” What kind of name is that? The Flash. What is he, a photographer?”
“He’s fast,” Superman answered,” I’ve met him before. Good man, but he’s still a little new at this, only been active for a short while.”
“One year,” Guy answered, looking through the file,” Says here he may be as fast as you, Big Blue.”
“I wouldn’t know, we haven’t exactly raced.”
“Boring,” Green Lantern sing-songed, before picking up another file. “Oh! This is good. The Batman. I’ve heard of him.”
“He’s from Gotham, dipshit, of course you’ve heard of him. He lives seven minutes away,” Hawkgirl sighed.
“Wait, isn’t he wanted by the Gotham Police?”
“Superman, you were wanted by the federal government up until two days ago,” Mr. Terrific pointed out.
“Fair enough. So what’s the plan?”
__
Two days later, a shadow descended on the Hall of Justice.
Batman stalked through the door, barely sparing a glance to the various heroes crowded into the hallway outside of what Bruce presumed was a conference room. He sighed internally. He wouldn’t have even come but Alfred had been so hopeful , and Bruce couldn’t take that away from him.
So, here he was, barging into a conference room—Bruce was right, of course—to ask the “Justice Gang” (no way in hell that was actually their chosen title) why they posted fliers looking for him all through Gotham.
“Excuse me, we’re in the middle of—” The man, who Bruce vaguely recognized as Green Lantern, paused, jaw gaping.
Bruce took stalk of the situation. Conference room, seven large windows lining the opposite wall, TVs displaying various news sites, four “heroes” sitting at the table, and one man that Bruce didn’t recognize standing to face them. It appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, an interview.
“You wanted my attention,” Batman paused, making eye contact with the hero he recognized as Superman, the biggest threat. The lead pocket on his belt felt heavier,” Here I am.”
__
“So, will you join?” Superman asked, having politely volunteered to walk Batman to the door after their meeting. The Gotham vigilante had sat quietly as Terrific explained their mission, their goals, why they wanted him on their team. And when it was over, he had stood and left without a word.
Clark had had to use his abilities to catch up with his head start.
“It is an interesting premise, and a collaborative team of super-powered individuals could prove useful.” Batman was gruff, Clark was realizing. He was straight and to the point, cold, factual.
But there was something else. In his time as a reporter, Clark had learned that there always was.
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“Because that’s not the question you want to ask,” Batman stopped in his tracks, and pivoted to face Clark, hand hovering over a pocket on his belt.
And he was right, Clark did want to ask why he had a lead-lined pocket on his belt, a pocket that obscured the contents from Clark’s vision.
“Alright, fine,” Clark pursed his lips,” What’s in your pocket?”
“A granola bar,” Batman answered, almost wryly. Clark pushed the man up against the nearest wall and placed an arm across his neck.
Batman didn’t blink.
“What are you hiding?”
“Any secrets I keep, I keep for the safety of my city.”
“Poetic.”
“Not really.”
Clark couldn’t take it anymore. He was so curious . The reporter in him was aching to uncover the mystery.
Using one hand to keep Batman pinned to the wall, Clark opened the pocket.
And immediately fell to the ground.
Pain shot through his veins, stinging agony from his eyes to his feet. He could barely get a breath.
Kryptonite .
Just as soon as it had started, the pain was over. Dimly, Clark heard the click of the pocket closing. He didn’t bother to look up, instead taking a moment to soak in the sunlight from the windows in the hallway, relishing in the feeling of being able to breath without it feeling like shards of glass were embedded in his lungs.
When Clark stood back up, Batman was still there, standing.
Assessing.
“Kryptonite. That was Kryptonite!”
“You’re very astute.”
“Why do you have it?” Clark didn’t push, not this time, just carefully invaded the other man’s space.
“It’s a contingency.”
“For what?” Clark asked, still breathing heavily.
“For you.” Simply stated. As though it were a fact.
“Me? What do you have against me?”
“Nothing. You could be dangerous.”
“So are you,” Clark scoffed and stepped back. Batman blinked, and cocked his head at the words. Clark was almost reminded of Krypto.
“Will you give it to me?” Clark asked, after a moment of silence.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because it’s the safest option.”
“For you, maybe. What about everyone else?”
“I don’t pose a danger to anyone.” And Clark couldn’t help it. Rao help him, but he couldn't help it. He looked.
He focused on the familiar buzzing in his eyes, unfocusing his vision just enough for his X-ray abilities to kick in. And then, he looked.
Clark didn’t know what he expected. A police officer, a military man, maybe even another journalist. Someone unfamiliar.
This man was not unfamiliar.
This was a face that graced the covers of Vogue and Business Insider . This was the face of the world’s most famous orphan, the billionaire that spent his money on his city and his time (allegedly) between the sheets.
Clark closed his eyes, shook his head, and then smiled the blinding smile the Kansas ladies had always called charming.
“What do you say, Mr. Wayne?”
The Batman— Bruce Wayne— stiffened and inhaled.
“I’ll deliver it tomorrow.”
__
“I don’t know, Lois, it’s owned by a billionaire.” He paused to listen to her response on the other end of the phone.
“Yes, I see the benefits, but I’ve got this bad feeling about Lord and—” Clark stopped in the doorway of his apartment.
There was a man on his couch.
“Lois, I’m going to call you back.”
“Mr. Wayne, what an honour. Here for an interview?”
“Clark Kent,” Bruce stood, a small black box in his hand,”The reporter that’s always interviewing Superman. A little egotistical, don’t you think?”
“I like to think of it more as practical.”
Bruce hummed, and held out the box.
“Kryptonite, in a lead-lined box, as promised. It’s not my whole stash, but I will promise to stop carrying it around.”
“Unless you think it’s necessary,” Clark guessed.
“Perhaps,” He looked at Clark, really looked at him, and Clark couldn’t imagine what he was seeing.
“I would like to think you’re not the person Luthor thinks you are,” Bruce said, pursing his lips, “But maybe you can understand my hesitance.”
“I don’t have a secret harem, if that’s what you’re asking.” Bruce smirked, just the slightest tilt of his lips, but Clark caught it.
“Look, you’re afraid of me because you don’t know me.” Clark was struck with an idea,” Why don’t we go somewhere?”
“Go somewhere?” Bruce arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
“You know, to talk. About the…” Clark trailed off, quite unwilling to call it the Justice Gang.
“Where do you have in mind?”
“There’s a great place down the block, they make the best pancakes.”
“It’s 9pm.”
“I know, just in time for dinner.”
“You want breakfast…for dinner?”
“Just try it, Mr. Wayne,” Clark smiled,” I think you might grow to like it.”