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Chapter Text

I’ll never get over the feeling of traveling to a new, big city. I know that feeling already, especially when I first moved to Metropolis, but nothing could have prepared me for my visit to Gotham. Peering out of the windows of the shuttle filled me with nerves. Seeing the tall and narrow concrete buildings, and the gloomy clouds that loomed over the city like a bad thought. The architecture and weather was the opposite to what I have back home, with our glass skyscrapers that shot into the sky and our joyful, cloudless days. Gotham felt imposing and threatening, which with the reputation it has, that description fit nicely. 

Despite my trepidation, I was in fact excited for my visit to such a famous city, even if that reason was for work. The Daily Planet assigned me the task of interviewing the elusive Bruce Wayne, the billionaire playboy philanthropist who is the sole reason the city hasn’t crumbled to ashes. Gotham was in some dire straits a few years back, many high profile criminals and villains treated the city like their own sandbox and trashed the whole place. Bruce was able to rally the people into saving Gotham. He even managed to get Batman to help clean up the streets by directly calling for his action. But ever since those years of rebuilding, he has been radio silent. Even though he seems like such a great person, he is now seen as infamous in the city due to his frequent disappearances when the city needs him the most; which is why this interview is so important.

A curious thing about this interview is that it was proposed by Bruce himself, with him making the offer to sit for an interview. Weirdly enough, he picked me specifically to hold the interview. I felt some sort of pride about this, getting noticed by such an important figure was a cool feeling, then I had to second guess it. Why me? Besides the obvious, there isn’t anything particularly interesting about me, Clark Kent. Anyone could have held the interview, heck they’d do a better job than me! I’m only good at interviews because I’m usually interviewing myself most of the time; got to get the latest scoop on Superman, you know.

Coming to a halt, the shuttle arrived at its final destination at the station. Thanking the driver as I stepped off, I waited for the luggage to be unloaded, quickly picking my suitcase once I saw it. Stepping toward the curb, I hailed the first taxi I saw. I told the driver the hotel I was staying at with some apprehension from the driver about the neighbourhood. Flashing a few extra dollars convinced the driver. Allegedly my job couldn’t afford me a room in the nicer part of town but it didn't matter to me, I was only staying a few days anyway. I was in and out of the hotel as fast as I could if I was human, dropping off my bags, to make it back to the same taxi ready to go to my next destination. 

My final stop was at Gotham National Bank, where Bruce Wayne was set to make an appearance. The reason for the appearance was because of a grand heist that occurred a few months ago, which resulted in massive amounts of damage to the building and for the city’s economy to wane. Burce was representing his company, Wayne Enterprises, who helped to restore the bank and compensate those affected by the economy. 

A large crowd had formed in front of an empty stage with a lone podium, people young and old wanting to see Bruce in person. I thought the crowd was here in support of him, but the closer I got I began to hear his detractors disavow his work: “He’s rich, of course he cares if the bank gets blown up,” “The bank was ugly anyways, I hated those columns,” “He’ll throw money at a bank but not the people dying in the streets!”. I was disheartened to hear such things said about a person, however I couldn’t help but agree with some of their points. If he is so wealthy, why not help the people of the city instead of rebuilding the bank? But then you have to ask how realistic of a goal is that, how could he help each individual person in Gotham? I can’t even do something like that, and I’m Superman. 

Just before Bruce was about to step out to the podium, I could make out the faintest sound of a gun being assembled, hearing the metallic clicks locking into place and the treads of a gun barrel being screwed on. My head whipped around to each of the surrounding buildings that overlooked the stage, seeing through them with my x-ray vision. It took a few moments for me to analyse each building until I saw them, a sniper was aiming their gun right towards the podium, perched and waiting for Bruce’s arrival. Immediately I mobilised, I needed to stop this assassination attempt from happening. Pushing my way out of the crowd, I stumbled into the nearest public bathroom, it was dirty, smelled awful, and was washed in a foul yellow light. None of this was going to stop me from changing. I rushed into one of the stalls and stripped down to my suit. In goes Clark Kent, out comes Superman. 

I abandoned my clothes and satchel in the overflowing trash can in the bathroom and  slipped out of there carefully, not wanting to pull any unnecessary attention to myself. It was any second that Bruce was going to step onto the stage. I looked out from behind a corner to keep an eye on the sniper. In the corner of my eye, I saw a group of Gotham City officials, who were being tailed by Bruce Wayne himself. He was coming up to the podium. The sniper lined up the shot, and fired.

The sound of their finger curling around the trigger, sending a 50 caliber round whizzing though the air directly towards Bruce Wayne was all I needed to hear to get into action. Before the bullet could even break the sound barrier, I leap towards the stage and land in front of Bruce. I raised my forearm and stopped the bullet, which splattered like a copper grape upon impacting my arm. Everyone was in panic, the crowd was screaming and covering their heads, desperate to flee the scene. The officials had withdrawn their own pistols and trained them onto the buildings, searching for the shooter. I turned around to see if Bruce was hurt, he was crouched down behind me with his arms over his head. My initial reaction was to reassure him that everything was fine, but when he looked up at me he glared at me with his steely grey eyes, fierce and alert. This was not the look I was expecting from someone who was almost assassinated. 

But this could wait, I needed to deal with his would-be assassin. Looking back to the sniper's perch, I saw them scrabbling to make it out of there, they were definitely not expecting to see Superman. My feet push off the ground to spring forward, flying through the window. The assassin flailed on the floor like a fish as they tried to escape, crawling along the floor for the nearest exit. They were pleading for their life, but I ignored them and simply grabbed them by the collar. They kicked and screamed as I dangled them over the sparse crowd, who were now cheering for me. The assassin was still trying to plead but with some added insults thrown in. I got eyes on the flashing lights of the police cars and floated down to them. As soon as our feet hit the ground, the assassin was in cuffs and pushed into the closest car. Floating back into the air, I waved to the crowd whose cheers grew louder. They were not on my mind at all, I didn’t want the applause. Bruce was already removed and rushed off stage once I looked back to the podium. Desperate to know if he was ok, I zoomed over and landed behind his entourage.

“Mr Wayne, are you hurt?” I asked, as I followed them at their quickened pace. 

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” said one of his bodyguards. 

“Yes sir, my apologies,” I replied, raising my hands and stopping in my tracks as they continued on. I could see Bruce turn his head to look at me, he had that same glare in his eyes. There was something about it that unsettled me, like he was hiding something. 

But I had no time to question that, I had an interview to get ready for. I shot back into the air, flying over the crowd once more as they cheered for me, and swooped down to the entrance of the bathroom. I rushed to the bin where I left my discarded clothes and returned to the same stall I changed in. In goes Superman, out comes Clark Kent, now in slightly dirtier clothes. 

I looked completely unprofessional, how was I supposed to interview the wealthiest man in Gotham when I look like I just pulled my clothes out of the garbage. I look at the sinks in the bathroom and turn on the hot water. With some hand soap I formed a warm lather and scrubbed away at the newly formed stains. I could hear Ma in my head cursing me out for washing my clothes like this, “Did I teach you nothin’ about washin’ clothes?” “Heavens to Betsy, gimme that shirt,”. I wished Ma was here now, she would get these stains out like magic. I was wasting time, and I knew that. Once the shirt was semi-decent, I rushed out of the bathroom not bothering to dry the wet patches. I had to think of an excuse for my shoddy appearance, I had plenty of time to do so as I walked to my destination, Wayne Towers. It was where the interview was to be held. No pressure, I told myself.

Once I reached Wayne Towers, I had to take a minute to take in the scale of the building. Compared to the others surrounding it, the tower was decidedly contemporary. It seemingly didn’t want to match its Art Deco brethren and adopted the glass look like the ones back at home. In a way I related to the skyscraper, we were both alien to this world. I stepped into the imposing building, I was met by a grand foyer with a ceiling that seemed to get higher the more I looked up. The walls were lined with chrome and glass panels in an elegant and modern way, which contributed to the seemingly ever-growing room. My shoes tapped on the slippery tiles as I stepped towards the long marble slab that made up the reception desk. 

“Good morning, I’m here to see Mr Wayne, do you by chance know if he’s available?” I politely asked the receptionist. 

“I’m sorry, Mr Wayne is unavailable,” they shut me down completely.

“I’m Clark Kent for The Daily Planet, I have an interview scheduled with him today,” I wasn’t wanting to fight with a receptionist who’s just doing their job, and to be fair I understand if the interview was called off due to the assassination attempt. 

The receptionist gave me a dirty look, then looked through their schedule on the computer monitor, “It appears so,”

“Great! Could you let him know that I’m ready for him?” I was relieved, the interview wasn’t canceled. Wait, the interview wasn’t cancelled?! I thought, my mind racing. Is he crazy? He almost got shot about thirty minutes ago and he’s ready to do an interview?

The receptionist pressed a button on their phone, “Mr Wayne I have a Clark Kent from The Daily Planet here to see you,” forcefully staining their voice when saying my name. 

“Thank you,” Bruce’s voice came through the grainy loud speaker of the phone, “Bring him up,”

The receptionist rose from their seat and walked out from behind the stone desk. I followed them as they led me to the elevator. The metal doors opened and we entered the mirrored box, they pressed the highest floor button. The elevator ride felt like forever, it would be mind numbing if it wasn’t for the soft lounge music playing as we rode into the heavens. The faintest ding indicated that we had arrived at the highest floor. I stepped carefully out of the elevator but my receptionist companion did not follow me. The doors shut behind me, leaving me alone with the beast himself. 

I assumed I had been left in his office, as all the furniture that I saw was a glass desk the length of an Olympic swimming pool, with two matching chairs made of leather and wood sat opposite each at the desk. The room felt cold and uninviting due to the lack of furniture and decoration. There must be a reason why the room was so bare, maybe such frivolity could distract from important business. Standing behind the desk was a floor to ceiling wall of glass that curved around the room, providing a panoramic view of Gotham and its cloudy skies. And looking out at that great view was the man himself, Bruce Wayne. Sweat pooled in my hands as I felt the nerves come back, deflecting a bullet was a walk in the park compared to this.

“Mr Wayne,” I said, my voice echoing around.

He turned his head to look at me, that look in his eye was gone. He responded calmly, “Mr Kent, I presume,”

Hearing him say my name was so weird, “Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you,”

He stepped away from the window and walked to me with a sort of arrogant nonchalance. He wore a dark chestnut brown suit that was tailored so well it was as if he was born in it, his snow white shirt contrasted with his ruby red satin tie. His jet black hair was slicked back showing off his chiselled jawline and slender nose, he looked more like a model than a serious business man. Bruce outstretched his arm offering a hand shake exposing a solid gold cuff-link with his initials engraved in them, I accepted the offer. He gripped my hand tight, which I was not expecting, “It’s good to finally meet you too,”

“My apologies for my appearance,” as soon as I said those words I regretted them, what good was it to point out my disheveled nature, “I spilt coffee on myself this morning and forgot to pack an extra shirt,”

“How unfortunate. But that’s fine, I’ve seen worse walk through my doors,” he replied, his face softening ever so slightly. Either this is him trying to make a joke or he’s really this dry. 

“I could imagine,” I tried to joke with him, but his face didn’t change. I cleared my throat, ready to switch the subject, “Shall we get started with the interview, Mr Wayne?”

Bruce simply nodded and walked behind his desk, sitting down in his chair. I did as he did and sat opposite him, and rummaged around in my satchel for my voice recorder. Thankfully it wasn’t stolen when I abandoned it in the bathroom. I set it down on the desk with a neat clink against the glass desktop, pressing the red button to start the recording. 

“This is Clark Kent of The Daily Planet interviewing the most famous person in Gotham, Bruce Wayne,”

Chapter Text

“Well now, I wouldn’t say that,” Bruce replied, his lip curled into a slight smile.

“I know, I just wanted to sound dramatic,” I said, thankful that he took my comment well. I reached down into my bag to fish out my notes for the questions I was supposed to ask, “Before we actually start, I want to ask about how you feel about what happened earlier today,”

"That's very considerate of you,” Bruce seemed unbothered, casual even, by me asking about the assassination attempt, “I’ve made a lot of enemies in this city, and I try to stay private as a result of it. That does means I’m vulnerable when I choose to make appearances,”

“That’s unfortunate to hear. I only ask because I was in that crowd when it happened,” 

“Then you would have seen Superman stop that bullet with his arm. I was not expecting to see him here in Gotham,” there was a sense of amazement in his voice, I was unable to tell how genuine he was being, “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw him. He saved my life, so I must be thankful,”

You looked like you wanted to kill me I thought while fidgeting with the pages of my notebook, running my thumb over the edge of the paper. I wished he didn’t mention me, even if it was impossible for him not to. I already have people acting suspicious about my ‘relationship’ with Superman; I didn’t need Bruce Wayne to add more fuel to that fire. 

“I’m the same as you, I wasn’t expecting that either,” I tried acting dumb.

“I wish I could shake his hand to say thanks,” Bruce chuckled. 

A part of me wanted to tear off my clothes to reveal the suit, hold out my hand and say “Put ‘er there, partner,” with the cheesiest grin I could manage, just as a joke. But what do I gain from just revealing that I’m Superman to him, or the whole reader-base of The Daily Planet? Would make a great story though. 

“What were your opinions on him before he stopped the bullet?” I wanted to move on from talking about Superman, but we were on such a roll and I didn’t want the conversation to end. 

Bruce’s demeanour hardened when I asked him that question, his lips flattened into a straight line and his brow began to furrow. I have a history of not being liked by billionaires like Bruce, so I was relieved when I heard his answer, “I see him as a good man. His boy scout act is a little cheesy but he’s done so much for his city that I help but appreciate his work,” 

Hearing him call me a boy scout did hurt my ego, at least he doesn’t hate me, “I'll put in a good word from you the next time I get to interview him,” I opened my notebook, reading the questions that we haven’t even touched yet.

“I heard that about you, that you and him know each other. Fascinating that you both show up on the same day,” Bruce said, dumping a tanker full of fuel onto the fire. 

My eyes flicked up to his, widening when seeing his bone-rattling stare, just like the one from before. What was that supposed to mean? The spiraling began. Did he somehow figure out my identity? “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Mr. Wayne,”

“I’m not implying anything, just making an observation,” he shrugged off his comment like it was nothing, “And please, call me Bruce,”

“Ok… Bruce,” This conversation was freaking me out. Why did I let it get to this point? Now when I get home, all anyone is going to ask about is my connection with Superman. I needed to stay professional and move the conversation along. I opened my notebook to my questions one last time and picked a random one to ask, “So… what was your intention in repairing Gotham National Bank?”

Bruce ignored my question, his eyes wandering down my neck and to my chest, it felt like they were burrowing through my shirt. I could feel my face turn red and my mouth go dry. This was embarrassing, and was honestly violating to have him look at my chest this way. It didn't bother me as I know how I look, whether I’m Clark or Superman. I attract all kinds of people, in more ways than one. I just didn’t expect Bruce Wayne to be one of those people. 

“Is something wrong?” I asked, feeling pathetic. 

“Your shirt, is there something underneath?” He pointed to my chest. Even just pointing my body out was cringe-worthy. 

I felt around my collar which is when I realised what he was talking about. My fingers slid along the slippery hem of my Superman suit. I had forgotten to button my shirt all the way when I was changing my clothes back, the collar of the suit was on full display. If I had the next button undone you would be able to see the “S” on my suit. I wear the suit so often that it has become like a second skin. Close calls like this have happened, but not as bad as this.

I had to think quickly because who just casually wears a full-body spandex suit under their clothes, “Oh this. I was thinking of going for a run after this interview, y’know, see the city and what not,” I said, desperately trying to hide my anxiety.

“So you like to work out? I could tell by your build, so strong,” Bruce said. He’s comments were now just plain creepy, “I like to workout too, but I usually do it during the night,” 

“Really. You do look fit yourself, I imagine your workout routine is intense,” I needed to keep up the pace, even if it meant that we had to flirt with each other. 

“Intense is putting it lightly,” he chuckled like what I said was an inside joke, what was so funny? “You should join me for a run, how about tonight?”

“Tonight? But we’ve only just met?” What I really wanted to say was that I didn't want to be alone at night with him. All these sudden mood changes were giving me whiplash, I never knew what I was going to hear coming out of his mouth. 

“You could meet me at my mansion,” Bruce offered casually. 

“I’ll take you up on that,” I said, hiding my discomfort with a smile.

“Fantastic,” he replied. Bruce then flicked his wrist, reading the time on his expensive silver  watch, “My apologies, but we have run out of time,”

“That’s such a shame,” it really was a shame, none of the interview questions were answered. 

We both stood up. I reached across the desk to pick up the recorder and stopped the recording, trying my best to keep my shirt from riding up and revealing more of my suit. It would be easier to just throw the whole recorder away, the tape was unusable. But I slipped it back into my bag, it was expensive after all. All the readers are going to learn is that Bruce Wayne is something they already know, that he is a rich weirdo. He walked with me to the elevator, following behind me, the sound of our shoes tapping awkwardly against the tiles echoing throughout the room. Bruce reached out to press the button to call the elevator, his arm uncomfortably closed to my hip. 

“What time would you want me to come tonight?” I asked, looking back over my shoulder. 

“Whenever you’re comfortable, I’m always at home anyway,” he replied, which was the most normal thing he said all morning. 

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. I turned to face him, my back to the elevator cabin ready to abscond, “I was good meeting you, Bruce,”

“It was a pleasure as well, Mr. Kent,” he held out his hand, offering me to shake it.

“You can call me Clark,” I gave him a dumb smile. I felt like rolling my eyes at how cliché this was. I replayed the offer and we shook each other's hands. His hand was ice cold and his grip was so tight I thought my hand was going to explode. You finally got that handshake from Superman, Bruce I thought when I remembered what he said before. I guess you could call it ironic. 

I stepped into the elevator and pressed the ‘ground floor’ button. I wanted to press the ‘close door’ button too but I didn’t want to be seen as rude in front of Bruce. I held up my hand and gave him a small wave, he huffed with amusement and raised his hand as a farewell. The doors closed at a snail's pace. Once I felt the elevator rumble as it moved down I let out the biggest sigh, not realising I was holding my breath. The elevator had a metal railing that wrapped around the cabin so I decided to lean against it, trying to recoup some of my energy and dignity.

Going through the quote-unquote interview in my head was a nightmare, nothing we talked about was usable for any sort of article or journalistic media, even the juiciest of gossip tabloids wouldn’t want my recording. Remembering what he said about my shirt, I quickly buttoned my shirt all the way to my neck, even though it was meaningless now. My glasses were fogging up because of how hot my body was running. I slid them off my nose and reached into my pocket for my handkerchief, I felt something flat and rough press against my fingers, like a piece of paper. I pull out the item. It was Bruce Wayne’s business card. 

Just when I thought I was safe in the elevator, he pulls this kind of trick on me. How did he put this in my pocket? When did he put it in my pocket? Seeing his name in an elegant sans serif font and his company logo on the thick white cardstock sent chills down my spine. But the fact that he at some point gave me his personal business card felt like a good sign, is what I was telling myself. That all changed when I turned the card over. 

Written with a black pen in neat cursive, Bruce wrote: “Contact me using this number. Do not share this with anyone.” and then a number that I did not recognise, it wasn’t on any of the contact lists for Wayne Enterprises or for any other company Bruce owned. I assumed that it must be his personal phone number. The request of not sharing the number with anyone is what scared me the most, why would he trust me with such sensitive information. All he knows is that I’m an unkempt journalist from a rival city with a nice body. 

I didn’t even bother cleaning my glasses and slipped the card back into my pocket. The elevator doors opened and I carefully stepped out of the cabin, worried that he was going to jump out from around the corner. This uneasy feeling followed me as I exited the building, knowing that this wasn’t going to be my last time meeting with Bruce Wayne. 

Chapter Text

The day turned to night faster than I wanted. I couldn’t stop thinking about Bruce and what we talked about, my complaints about it being a terrible interview didn’t even phase me at this point. I accepted my fate that the project would be canned and I’ll be put on to do something less ambitious. I had enough time to come to this conclusion as I waited in my hotel room, pacing back and forth trying to stop myself from going crazy and gain the courage to call the number Bruce gave me. But I needed to convince him that I actually worked out, so I decided to go to a sporting goods store before meeting with him again. I needed the perfect outfit. 

It stopped by the closest store I could find, which was about five minutes from the hotel. Racks of compression shorts and sweat-wicking shirts lined the floor of the shop, the back wall of the store was lined with shoeboxes of all different kinds of athletic footwear, there was even one of those portable basketball hoops set up for display. There was something nostalgic about this place. It reminded me of a time when I was a kid and coming into a store like this with Pa to find me a new baseball after I threw the old one too hard, making it peel like an orange. That memory was the only kind of peace I could hold onto as I frantically rushed through the racks. 

I must have flicked through a million different combinations of shirts and shots to find the perfect outfit to impress Bruce. Once I settled on the right things I made a b-line for the changing rooms. For once in my life I left my Superman suit back at the hotel, not wanting to forget it in a place like this, although it’s always an odd feeling seeing my naked body under my clothes instead of the suit. I tried on the shorts, they were red like my trunks with white piping details around the hem and up the thigh. They made my legs look long and thick with how short the inseam was, provocatively cut just barely above my crotch. The shirt was next, it was blue and the material fit tightly around my chest. It had a high neckline and the sleeves were cut high showing off my biceps. I’ve never seen my body look like this before, I’m usually pretty covered up, but now I see why people stop and stare. Maybe I should make some alterations to my suit. 

I changed back after agreeing to the final look and exited the change room. When I was walking to the register I caught a glimpse of something in the corner of my eye, the piece of activewear that I knew would truly convince Bruce of my commitment to fitness. I stood in front of the display of what piqued my curiosity, jockstraps. I know what the current implications of this style of underwear in today's culture means, but they were originally designed for athletes. Don’t be silly Clark, he’s not going to see you in your underwear is what I thought. But what if he did? He showed himself to be observant by seeing my suit under my shirt, so who knows what else he would see. I tried to convince myself that I shouldn’t, but then I remembered how short the shorts I was about to buy were. Like an idiot I looked over my shoulder and snatched the package of jocks that looked like they would fit off the shelf, and hid it under the pile of clothes I was holding. 

Purchasing everything was embarrassing, seeing the poor cashier scan my items and bagging them, giving me a knowing look when scanning the jocks. It's not what you think! I need to convince a billionaire that I work out! is what I thought to myself as I waited for this interaction to be over. I should have called Bruce on the spot and told him I caught the flu and couldn’t make it when they told me the price of the three things I bought. It looks like it's going to be ramen noodles and tap water for the next two weeks. 

My card somehow didn’t decline and I walked out of the store only to rush back to my hotel to get changed. So many outfit changes today. I wanted to really impress Bruce so I decided to have a quick everything-shower before meeting him again. I needed to let him know I’m not a complete slob. It didn't even matter that I was going to be sweaty from our run later, my appearance matters more. So that’s how I’m justifying everything. 

Once I was finished in the shower, I came back into my room where I had laid out the clothes and underwear I had bought. I could understand why people were jockstraps now, they are quite comfortable in the front, although it would take some getting used to the feeling of having my buttocks exposed. Next came the shorts which seemed to fit even better with my new underwear, the boost to my rear really helped. And then the tight shirt which still felt like it was suctioned to my chest, the look was completed. 

I was ready, so what now? I had no idea how to get to Bruce’s house or even know the address, I don’t think I could call a cab and say ‘take me to Bruce Wayne’s house,’ with the way I’m dressed. My first thought was to call the number Bruce gave me, that is if it was even really his number. I could feel my hand shake as a key in his number in my phone, I had no idea why I was so nervous. I placed the phone to my ear, hearing the dial tone. It kept ringing for almost a minute before someone picked up the phone. 

“Speak,” It was Bruce, he was talking with such an authoritative voice, I almost didn’t recognise him.

“It’s me, Clark,” I simply replied. 

“Oh yes,” he’s voice changed again, softening like before during the interview, “Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine, I was just calling to say that I don’t have a way to get your house,” I said, confused at his changing voice.

I was really hoping he would cancel our plans, but he replied, “That’s fine, I’ll have my butler come and pick you up. What hotel were you staying at?”

An offer like that could only have come from someone like him, just casually mentioning his butler like it was normal. But it would be ignorant of me to say that the offer wasn’t tempting. As much as I wanted to say no, the thought of being in a luxury vehicle with a personal chauffeur sounded so fancy. I didn’t know when I would be awarded this kind of luxury again, especially from Bruce. I told him which hotel I was staying at.

“Great, Alfred will be there to pick you up in half an hour,” he told me.

“Awesome, see you then!” I faked my excitement.

Bruce hung up the call and I immediately sank to the bed, holding my head in my hands. I felt dreadful, I was developing the nastiest headache as I couldn’t stop thinking about tonight. There was no telling what was going to happen and I hate surprises. 

The 30 minutes passed as I sat unmoving waiting for this Alfred person to show up. The hotel phone began to ring which is how I knew that my time was up, the receptionist on the phone told me that there was someone here to see me. I slowly stood up from the bed, feeling my legs turn to jelly as I walked to the door. I held onto the knob and took a deep breath before exiting into the hallway. The walk to the lobby felt endless, even though I wasn’t too far from the ground floor. Each step I took as I climbed down the stairs felt like a chore. I wanted to desperately run back to my room and hide under the covers, but I couldn’t leave Bruce waiting. 

Standing in the lobby was a delightful dapper elder gentleman who looked completely out of place in such a stingy hotel. His suit was as black as the night sky and was meticulously pressed. You had to be an idiot to not realise that this was Alfred. 

“You must be Alfred, I presume?” I asked the gentleman, stepping closer to him. 

“Indeed I am, pleasure to meet your acquaintance,” the man responded with the most stereotypical posh British accent I had ever heard, “Master Bruce is waiting for your arrival, Mr. Kent,”

“Well let’s not keep him waiting,” I couldn’t help but smile out of nervousness. 

Alfred returned my smile warmly. He then led me out of the hotel when a stunningly elegant car was waiting for us, it was polished to such a shine that I could see my reflection in the black paint. Alfred opened the door to the back seat where I slid inside the swanky vehicle. The seats of the car were upholstered in an off-white leather with a dark oak dashboard and chrome details, the roof of the car dazzled with tiny lights that mimicked the Milky Way. I felt way out of my element, this is the most amount of luxury I have experienced. If this is an example of the kind of cars Bruce owns, I couldn’t imagine what his mansion looked like. Alfred pulled out and began the drive, he seemed to have the route memorised as there was no GPS or map that he was following. Real white glove service. 

“So you're a butler, what do you do?” I asked Alfred. If I was going to be stuck in the car with him I might as well make conversation.

“I buttle, sir,” he responded. 

“And what does that mean?” I was genuinely curious, I’ve never met a butler in my life. 

“A butler is head of the kitchen and dining room. I keep things tidy for Master Bruce,” Alfred told me. 

“But if you're the head of the kitchen and dining room, why are you acting as my driver? Doesn’t Bruce have a driver that could do this instead of you?” I felt a little bad for him, thinking about Bruce potentially overworking this old man.

“I assure you I am not out of my depths. The Waynes have treated me with immense support over the years, and it is my duty to return that favour,” his response was calm, no sense of annoyance over my questions.

Great, so even his butler’s weird I thought. My response was a simple mumble in agreeance as I looked outside the window of the car, seeing the tall buildings wiz past, seeing them shrink as we left the heart of the city center and into the residential areas. The loud and lively streets became quiet and modest, the bright glare of neon signs morphed into the soft glow of halogen light posts. Feeling the stillness of the neighbourhood felt like I was back in Smallville, except swap the manicured grass lawns for corn fields and the million dollar mansions for farm houses, it was just like home. 

The iron gates of Wayne Manor slowly opened automatically the closer Alfred drove to them, creeping towards the mansion along the gravel path. The car curved around the multi-tiered fountain that marked the end of the driveway. It was ridiculous to think that one man lives in this so-called house, it stretched far beyond what I could comprehend with its large stone bricks, an opulent palace. Large columns held up the upper floors, sturdy and thick. The building was old and historic, just like the city it looked down on. 

“We have arrived, sir,” Alfred told me, parking the car outside the stairs that led to the front door. He exited the vehicle and came back around to my side of the car, opening the door for me. 

I stepped out, even though I already made an effort to look my best I felt too underdressed for such a grand place. But if Bruce Wayne calls for you to show up, you have no option but to follow though. Alfred led me up the stairs to the intricately carved oak wood door. He opened the doors to the warm interior of the mansion, a large staircase bisected the room, the red carpet that lined the floor of the stairs spilled out into an ornate rug that looked as if it had been passed down for centuries. Sconces lined the tall wallpapered walls, emitting a soft orange glow. My eyes traveled up the staircase to the ceiling where a large crystal chandelier hung above both of our heads. I was expecting Bruce’s home to be less inviting than this, but despite its grand appearance, this was delightfully homey. 

“Please wait here a moment, I will fetch Master Bruce,” Alfred told me, he gestured to one of the many cushioned seats, which I was happy to sit in. 

Five minutes past, I knew exactly because I counted them on the grandfather clock that stood in the foyer. How long does it take to call someone over? The mansion looked massive from the outside so I could only imagine how vast the inside was. But I still remained seated, I didn’t want to upset Alfred or god forbid Bruce if I disobeyed their orders and snooped around the house. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t curious though. What kind of secrets were hiding in this place, a secret dungeon hidden underneath the house? 

The sound of footsteps came from around the corner, Alfred was back with Bruce in tow. I expected Bruce to be dressed appropriately for exercise, something similar to what I was wearing, instead he came to me wearing a burgundy silk robe with black velvet details around the lapels and cuffs. This was not any kind of athletic attire. Maybe if it was some sort of gi like for martial arts, but who trains for karate in a silk robe. 

“Clark, you came,” Bruce seemed genuinely shocked, that my arrival was a big surprise.

“Yes, I totally did come,” I said, rising from my seat. It didn’t feel good being treated like an afterthought. 

Bruce scanned my body with his eyes, “Nice shorts,” he commented.

“Thanks,” I replied. I hope my expensive shorts were worth the humiliation, I thought to myself. 

“I was just about to get ready for our run,” Bruce told me, I was relieved that this fabled run was going to happen, “You can start without me if you’d like, Alfred will show you to the courtyard,”

I didn’t have a say in the matter, Alfred came next to me and directed me to the other room. He took me into the conservatory, the room was glass floor to ceiling with many plants and places to rest. I didn’t have enough time to take in the beauty of the room as I was being rushed by Alfred. A pair of two glass lattice doors stood before us.

“This way to the courtyard,” Alfred said.

“Wait a minute, why isn’t Bruce joining us?” I asked in protest. 

“Bruce will be joining you shortly,” He told me. I found his assurance hard to believe. 

I sighed out of frustration, which Alfred took as acceptance. He opened the doors and I stepped out to the courtyard. The cold air of the night made my skin sting, I shivered as I slowly walked through the grounds. The court was lit with inground lighting that sat in pockets around the grass. There was a curving path that was laid out cutting through the lawn that was made of cobblestone and gravel, which I assumed was the path Bruce wanted me to take. As much as I wanted to wait for him, it was getting uncomfortably cold just standing and pacing around, exercise would be the only way to warm myself up.

The gravel crunched beneath my feet as I jogged through the yard. I tried to ignore the situation and focus on my run, I couldn’t stop thinking about Bruce. What if he’s not coming and is just laughing with Alfred, watching me run stupidly outside his house. Maybe he is like the billionaires I know, treating the middle class as cheap entertainment, like I’m a hamster running in a wheel. But he chose me to be here, to meet him. That idea is what’s throwing a wrench into all of this. What’s so special about me? Would he do this if Lois or Jimmy came instead of me? I couldn’t help but disagree with myself. The way he is acting felt particularly targeted, which is what scares me. 

My racing mind was put on pause when the lights in the ground suddenly turned off. I was left alone in the dark, with the only sources of light being the faint glow of the manor and the lacking beams of the waning moon. I tried calling out to Bruce and Alfred but it was no use, I was too far from them. And I couldn’t use any of my abilities as I didn’t have a way to hide my identity, the only kind of power I could use is to activate my dark vision. 

It wasn’t perfect, but I was able to see a few feet in front of me. It allowed me to slowly creep my way through the path, getting closer and closer to the mansion. There was an eeriness that I could sense about this situation, like I wasn’t alone in the dark. The feeling of someone watching me made my skin crawl, but these eyes weren’t coming from the mansion. I stopped in my tracks trying to take in as much information as I could, that’s when I heard the sound of gravel getting crushed from behind me. 

The footsteps stopped right behind me, the presence of someone, or something, looming over me was all I could feel. My heart raced not knowing how to get out of this situation. If this thing tried to attack me, all that would do is expose who I am, and I wasn’t going to harm someone who could be innocent. I had no other option than to turn around and face my stalker. 

People outside of Gotham treated him like a joke, as if he was a myth or some sort of cryptid that people made up to scare children into behaving. But this was no joke, myth, or cryptid. Batman is real and he’s standing right in front of me. 

“I know who you are, Clark,” Batman said, his dark voice shaking me to my core. I immediately knew what he was talking about. Somehow, Batman has solved my secret identity as Superman. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, he was not going to believe that. He probably has loads of evidence against me. 

“Your arrival has put me in danger," he ignored my answer with a foreboding claim. 

“What danger? I’m the one who should be scared if you’re going to creep on me like this,” I couldn’t choose flight, so I chose to fight. 

“You don’t belong here,” Batman reached for his utility belt to pull out his grappling hook. He fired the hook and leaped into the air, the retracting cable pulling him into the air. He flung through the air like a trapeze artist, his final words to me were, “Leave Gotham,”

I tried to track where he was heading but he was gone before I could do anything. There was too much to unpack. Firstly, Batman has somehow figured out my secret identity. What evidence does he have against me? Is it obvious to people outside of Metropolis or is Batman truly living up to the claim as the world’s finest detective. Secondly, what sort of danger would I be putting him in? I didn’t come here to intentionally cause harm to him or Gotham, I only revealed myself to save Bruce’s life. And thirdly, that I don’t belong in Gotham. He has no right in telling me where I can or cannot stay. I’m here because of business, I didn’t choose to be here. 

But I would be lying if I said that his foreboding words didn’t worry me. His statements felt like warnings, and maybe I should listen to them. Gotham was his city to protect and having someone like Superman show up would only complicate things. He says that I’ve put him in danger, but I’ve also put a target on myself. I was more scared of the thought of indirectly causing harm to people in this city than of Batman himself. 

My encounter with Batman had completely thrown me off course and I had no motivation to continue with exercising, I didn’t even care about disappointing Bruce. I followed along the path again, still with my limited vision. It wasn’t long when I was back at the mansion, swinging open the doors to the conservatory. 

Alfred came rushing in when he heard the doors slam shut, “Is everything alright sir?” He asked, his face just as shocked as I was. 

“Where’s Bruce?” I sternly asked him. 

“I’m right here,” Bruce could be heard from around the corner. He stepped into the conservatory, now wearing a similar outfit to mine. His smile dropped when he saw how stressed I was, he moved past Alfred and came forward to try and comfort me, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

How was I going to tell him what happened? Would he even believe me if I told him that Batman just confronted me in his courtyard, “Someone was out there,”

“Who was it?” He asked.

I had no choice but to say, “It was… Batman,” 

I expected to be met with laughter but Bruce stared at me with a concerned expression, was he actually worried for me? “Batman? What did he do?”

“He told me something,” I admitted.

“What was it?” Bruce came closer to me. I could tell he was trying to comfort me but I felt as if I was being trapped, like he was forcing me to tell him what happened.

I couldn’t say what he really told me. Now is not the time to tell Bruce who I really am, “He told me to leave,” 

“Why would he say that?” Bruce asked, like I would know. 

“I have no idea, but I think I should leave,” I said, trying to move past Bruce. 

“Wait, No. I don’t want you to go out by yourself,” Bruce looked over his shoulders, “Alfred, make one of the guest bedrooms for Clark,”

“Right away, sir,” Alfred said, then left us following Bruce’s order. 

“Wait what?” Here he goes again trying to control me. He makes me want to come to his house and now he wants me to stay, “But what about my hotel room?”

“Alfred will retrieve your things in the morning,” Bruce explained. That was the one thing I didn’t want, I couldn’t remember where I left my suit last, all I remember doing was taking it off and tossing it aside before my shower. 

“But I’ll have no clothes to wear,” I said, trying to get Bruce to make sense.

“You can borrow some of mine, we look to be the same size,” He placed his hand on my shoulder and led me out of the conservatory. 

I didn’t try to shake him off or to stop him, I had given up. He led me back to the hallway, it felt less inviting since my encounter with Batman. I couldn’t wrap my head around what he told me, my biggest question was how he knew about me. I needed to find a way to talk to him again, but he might get mad at me for not following orders. I wouldn’t want to make Batman my enemy. 

The room Bruce led me was bigger than my whole apartment, probably as big as the floor my apartment was on. A large king sized bed sat proudly on a mahogany bedframe, fresh white linens surgically tucked away by Alfred with pillows that looked as soft as clouds. It was shocking that this was just a guest room.

“My apologies for my rushed job, sir,” Alfred told me, like I would care or notice a difference. 

“It’s fine, Alfred, thank you,” I turned to look at Bruce and say to him, “You really don’t need to do this for me,”

“I know I don’t, but I insist,” Bruce responded softly, he let go of my shoulder. 

This was the first time I could feel a warmth come from Bruce, he was doing this act of service out of the goodness of his heart. Maybe I was being too harsh on him. If he’s willing to go out of his way to allow me to stay in his home, then maybe I should respect his hospitality. 

“Thank you, but I will only stay for the night,” I told him. I didn’t want to seem like I was taking advantage of him and his wealth, I could imagine people would do that to him. 

“You can stay as long as you like,” Bruce said, his lips curling into the slightest smile. He turned on his heel and made his exit, but before he left he told me, “I believe this is the start of a great alliance. Good night, Clark,” 

And there he goes being weird again. What sort of alliance would a reporter and a billionaire have? Does he mean that I would write articles in his favour if he ever did something controversial? That would be bad journalism. And I didn’t spend thousands in college debt for my degree to become a hack writer. 

I shook off what Bruce said, thinking it was just another of his quirks. My attention now moved to Alfred who stood unmoving during our exchange. He began an explanation, “The ensuite bathroom is just through this door behind me. You may leave your clothes where you like, I shall have them laundered by tomorrow. In the meantime I will fetch you a change of clothes from Master Bruce’s closet,”

“But what about my things in my hotel?” I said. I wish I knew where I put my suit.

“As I said before, I shall retrieve your belongings in the morning,” he reiterated, “Should I run you a bath to help calm your nerves, Mr. Kent? I know that the would be overwhelming,”

“A bath doesn’t sound bad,” I agreed, it was a good idea, “And please, call me Clark,”

“As you wish,” Alfred nodded his head. He turned to the ensuite bathroom door and entered. He came back shortly holding a plush navy robe with a silver ‘W’ embroidered on the chest. Alfred laid the robe carefully onto the bed as if it were made of glass. He returned to the bathroom and shut the door giving me some privacy, the sound of running water could be heard from the bathroom indicating that my bath was being run. 

I came to the side of the bed where Alfred laid the robe down, and held it up. The thick and soft fabric was warm to the touch like it had just come out of the dryer, the robe looked like it cost more than my rent. I placed the robe down and began to take off my clothes, even if my run was brief I did manage to work up a sweat as the shirt stuck to my chest as I peeled it off. The shorts were the same deal but that’s when I remembered what I was wearing underneath them. I felt mortified at the idea of Alfred knowing that I was wearing a jockstrap, I doubt he would know what it means but I shouldn’t subject such a gentleman to something inappropriate like that. Although I imagine he has seen far worse than a pair of suggestive underwear, Bruce had probably given him a run for his money when he was a teen or even now. 

I sucked up my pride and removed my underwear. I didn’t want to leave my clothes on the floor so I folded them and left them on the corner of the bed, making sure to hide the jock inside the pile as best as I could. I picked up the robe again and wrapped it around my body, tying the matching belt around my waist. 

“Alfred, I’m all ready,” I called out to him. 

Alfred re-entered the room one last time, rolling down one of his sleeves, “You bath is ready for you, Clark,”

“Thank you. I left my clothes at the end of the bed,” I told him, pointing to the pile.

“I appreciate that, sir,” he said. He stepped to the pile and scooped my clothes into his hands, he continued his path toward the exit, but then tragedy struck as my jockstrap slipped out of the pile and tumbled to the floor, betraying my trust of staying in place. Alfred was a professional however, he didn’t make a comment or give me a dirty look, he simply reached down and added the underwear back to the pile and left me in the guest room alone. 

The bath was inviting, the relaxing smell of the lavender scented water drifted into the bedroom, making me forget my worries. I came through the bathroom door, my feet were cold on the small white tiles. The bath was freestanding, sitting on gold filigree legs with the same patterns along its porcelain basin. The water inside was steaming and soapy, I couldn’t wait to take a dip. I drop the robe to the floor and lift up my leg, touching the water with the tip of my toe. The water was the perfect temperature so it was easy for me to slip my whole body in. 

For a brief moment, my mind was at ease. I didn’t think of Bruce or Batman or anything else, I was enjoying myself in the bath. But that moment was fleeting as those thoughts slowly came back. I needed to stop overthinking about them and start coming up with a plan, how was I going to get Batman’s attention. It was obvious that I was going to have to meet him as Superman. My head was pounding from thinking too much, I had to leave this problem solving for tomorrow.

The water was starting to get cold, which told me that it was time to leave the bath. I stood up and let the water drain off my body before stepping out. Alfred had laid out some neatly folded towels for me, I took the first one from the top and began to dry off my body. I reached down to retrieve my robe that I carelessly removed and tied it back onto my body, ready to walk back to the bedroom. It was as I left it however with one difference, on the bed was a set of matching silk pyjamas, a shirt and pants with similar monogramming as the robe. The jockstrap was there too, which makes sense as Alfred obviously knows it’s my only pair of underwear right now.

That was fast I thought as I slipped the jock back on, hoping to one day be rid of it. I then slid into the pants and shirt, the fabric was smooth against my skin. I’ve never worn silk pyjamas before, it’s too expensive for any normal person to buy. But knowing Bruce, this set it’s probably made from the finest silk known to man, and he’s simply giving them to his guests. 

The bed was warm with a firm foam mattress, as soon as I got comfortable the mattress contorted to my shape like it was designed for me. It was unlike anything I’ve slept on, and definitely better than the springs I have at home. I pulled the lofty quilt over my body and rested my head on the soft pillow, staring at the ceiling. I was starting to think about money and how Bruce was spending it. 

If he has such expendable income as to give his guests such luxuries, what else is he spending his money on? He isn’t flashy with his money, I think back to how barren his office was at Wayne Towers, but the devil is in the details. Just the view alone must have cost a pretty large penny. He’s a known philanthropist and is willing to help fund the repair of a historic building, such as Gotham Nation Bank. But with all of these expenses he still remains the richest man in Gotham. 

That kind of power must require some heavy duty security, maybe something as strong as Batman. That must be it, Bruce’s wealth must be funding Batman and his operations. There’s no way someone with all the gadgets, vehicles, and costumes would be working a 9-5 and making minimum wage. The money has to come from somewhere. It must be why he showed up at the mansion, he’s probably scouting out the property as we speak. 

That’s my conclusion, Batman is working for Bruce Wayne. 

I needed to find out if my assumption was correct, I needed to get Batman’s attention - preferably as Superman. But that’s a job for tomorrow, right now I need to rest after such an eventful day.

Chapter Text

I didn’t want to leave the bed, the sheets were silky smooth against my skin. But when Alfred came into my room to draw open the curtains, I knew it was time for me to wake up. The thin beams of sunlight poured through the thick clouds barely touched my skin, it was good to feel the sun again but I knew I needed to be at full power if I was to get Batman’s attention. 

I sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, “Good morning, Alfred,” I said.

“Good morning, sir. Breakfast will be ready in just a moment, please feel free to join me in the kitchen,” Alfred responded, his posh voice was almost soothing in the morning, “I have also gone and retrieved your belongings from your hotel room,”

I looked over to my suitcase which sat adjacent to the door, I looked back to Alfred and smiled, “Thank you. I’ll be with you shortly,”

He returned the smile and nodded, turning on his heel and exiting the room. As soon as he was gone I sprang out of bed, and pulled my suitcase up onto the bed. I was scared I was going to break the zipper at how fast I went, but I opened the suitcase and began my analysis. Everything seemed in order, my shirts, pants, and normal underwear were all there. I packed light because I was only supposed to be here a few days, but with my sudden involvement with Bruce Wayne I have no idea how long I will be in Gotham. I needed to answer the real question, did I pack my suit? I moved over the pile of clothes and emptied one of the halves of the case, sewn into the polyester lining was a zipper that I had used to hide the suit. I know it's not the most secure spot but I didn’t know that someone else would have access to my luggage. I pulled at the zipper expecting to find nothing, but the blue and red of my suit showed themselves boldly. 

The biggest weight had been lifted off my shoulders, I sigh out of relief. I chuckled to myself as I placed my clothes back on top of the hidden compartment. I knew I was being ridiculous, of course I would have hidden the suit.  I stepped out of my room ready to eat breakfast, that’s when I realised that I had no idea where the kitchen was, the only clue I had was the smell of eggs and bacon that wafted throughout the halls. My only choice was to follow my nose. Eventually I found my way to the kitchen, a round table had already been prepared with the appropriate cutlery and glassware. Alfred stood over one of the many stove tops wearing an apron, he was holding a spatula and was intently looking at a pancake that was beginning to cook. 

I must have caught his attention as his gaze snapped up to me, “The pancakes are almost ready, please help yourself,” he told me.

I followed his orders as I made my way to the table, sitting down in the cushioned chair. A spread of different breakfast items sat on the table: crispy and golden bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, toast with a stick of softened butter on the side, and a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice. Everything looked so delicious, I took a small amount from each, making space on my plate for the aforementioned pancakes. Alfred came from behind me and set down a plate of a large stack of pancakes, still steaming from the stove, and a bottle of maple syrup. 

“Thank you,” I told Alfred. I began to dig into my breakfast, the food tasted as good as it looked. It took a lot of patience from me to not completely polish my plate, “Wow, this is really good,”

“I appreciate that,” he replied. A sound that came from the hallway caught his attention, he peered into the hall and spoke to someone who was there, “Master Bruce, will you care to join us for breakfast?”

Bruce came through the kitchen, he was dressed in his usual black formal wear but was not fully dressed. In his hands he held two ties, one red and one blue, “I’m sorry but I can’t, I’m running behind for my appearance. I can’t choose which tie to wear,” 

“The blue is such a classic colour on you,” Alfred told him.

“I know, but I’ve been leaning towards the red,” He replied, rubbing the silk between his fingers in contemplation. Bruce then turned to me and presented the ties to me, “What do you think?”

The question felt so arbitrary, why should I be the one to decide which tie he should wear? I know nothing about fashion. From what I’ve seen him wearing he usually wears warmer colours, so the red makes sense. But Alfred said that blue is his colour. It felt like I was having to choose sides, Alfred or Bruce. 

I decided to side with Bruce, “I think the red would look better,”

Bruce smirked, “I’m glad you agree,”

Bruce flicked up the collar to his shirt and slid the red tie around his neck, knotting the tie in place with precision. Alfred came to him to take the blue tie from him and help in adjusting his clothes, even though the knot Bruce tied was perfect. 

“Alright I’ll be home soon,” Bruce told Alfred, making his way out the door.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred stopped him with an authoritative tone, “May I suggest you have a bite to eat before you go,”

Bruce came back and picked up a slice of toast and buttered it swiftly, he stuck the toast on his mouth and waved to us as he rushed out of the kitchen. I found this interaction amusing, I never thought Bruce Wayne would act all domestic and wholesome with his own butler, they must have some history. 

“Is he usually like that?” I asked Alfred.

“He’s a lot of things, indecisive is one of them,” Alfred replied. 

Once I was finished with my breakfast, I thanked Alfred once more and excused myself from the kitchen. I asked to be left alone, claiming that I needed to not be interrupted when writing my article on Bruce. Alfred understood and I left him in the kitchen. I felt bad about lying to him, I wasn’t going to be writing anything today, I needed to figure out a plan. And I couldn’t do it in this maze of a house, I needed to get some fresh air. 

I returned to my room and opened my suitcase, filtering through the case to find my suit again. I mourned the loss of my comfortable pyjamas as I slipped on my suit, oh how I missed it. Now there’s no way of misplacing it I thought to myself, taking off my glasses and adjusting my hair. Coming to one of the large windows that sat behind long draping curtains, I opened them up letting in a breeze into the room. I stepped onto the window sill and used that as a jumping off point to begin my flight, soaring into the sky, miles into the air. 

The city looked incredible from such heights, just from below the clouds, I could see each of the bridges and tunnels that connected Gotham and its many boroughs to the mainland. I imagined the traffic that was piling up along the road, cars honking, people swearing, squeaking of brake pads that needed to be replaced. Such a quaint feeling. My eyes followed the lines of the bridges into the heart of the city, tracking along the grid-like streets and into the different avenues. You wouldn’t believe the reputation it has if you saw it from this perspective, it’s a city just like any other. 

But now is not the time to get sentimental, I needed to figure out a way to get Batman’s attention. What was immediately off the table was committing a crime, no one is that important that you should be breaking the law for them to notice you. I could fly through the streets and call him out, but that would be antagonistic and would be disruptive to the other citizens. Maybe I should go directly to the source, I know he works with the police of the city so maybe they would have some answers. Using my telescopic vision, I scanned the streets again to find where the precinct was. I looked to the roofs of the buildings because I know they use a spotlight to signal him, which I was able to find after a few minutes of searching. I made my dissent, swooping down through the air and gliding to my destination cutting through the gaps in the street. 

The words “Gotham City Police Department” were carved into the stone of the building I landed in front of. It was a build that looked as old as Bruce’s own mansion, the Wayne’s must be an old family. The building had an aura of authority and strength that no other building in the city possessed, it even made me nervous to go inside. I ascended the stairs that lead to the entrance, getting the attention of onlookers who all started whispering. “It’s Superman!?” “Nice trunks, dork,” “He’s a little shorter than I imagined,”. I had to ignore them, if I can get their attention I can definitely pull Batman’s focus. 

I step through the doors to the GCPD, the building was just as ancient on the inside as it was on the outside. Thick iron girders held the roof in place, cracked marble tiles lined the floors with a mezzanine that sat in the back end of the building, holding many different offices. Several desks were laid out in front of the mezzanine, with many different police officers filing off paperwork and going about their day as normal. 

For a brief moment, no one seemed to notice me. They’re probably used to having someone strange come through the doors, just another day at the office to them. I came through to the office space and came to the desk of one of the officers, a young woman with curly black hair who was deeply ingrained into her work. 

“Good morning, I would like to speak to Batman? Can you get me in contact with him?” I asked her politely.

“I can’t let you do that, sir. That’s only reserved for-“ she stopped speaking when she looked up at me, all the colour in her face drained as she stared at me with wide eyes and her jaw dropping. Without looking, the officer reached across her desk and picked up the phone, selecting one of the call buttons, “Commissioner Gordon, you might what to come and see this,”

The door to the main office on the mezzanine opened up, out came an older man, his red hair was cut short and had streaks of grey throughout, he wore glasses and had an impressive moustache, “Montoya, what are you talking about-“

The man, who I assumed was the Commissioner, had the same dumbfounded expression as Montoya, even cleaning his glasses just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. His presence got the attention of every other officer in the room who all looked in the direction he was facing, just as stunned as he was when they saw me. This was embarrassing, you would think I would be used to having a crowd of people being shocked by me being there, but it’s hard when it’s a room of police officers. 

Gordon snapped back to reality and straightened himself up, “At ease,” he said, commanding his police force. The officers including Montoya returned to their duties, but really just pretending to work just to keep an eye on me. He came down from his office and made his way to me, I could see a nervous sweat on his brow.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced,” I told him. I don’t know how I would have announced my arrival if I did. 

“No need to apologise,” he replied, running his fingers through his hair, trying to make sense of this situation. 

“I do think an introduction is in order,” I love doing the introduction, I think it’s cool, “My name is Kal-El, the last son of the former planet, Krypton. But you may call me Superman,”

“Pleasure to meet you, Superman. Name’s Jim,” Gordon said. He reached out his hand and I shook it, despite his attempts at acting cool his hand was clammy with nerves, “So what brings you down to Gotham? It couldn’t be the sunny beaches now, would it?” 

“No, no,” I chucked at his joke, does the sun ever shine in this city? “I’m here to speak to Batman,”

“Batman? Hate to break it to you but you’re about 12 hours too late, he only shows up at night,” he informed me, letting go of my hand. 

“I’m happy to wait, if you don’t mind,” I said, curious at the information I just learned. Batman only shows up at night. 

“That’s fine by me,” Gordon beamed, seemingly willing to cater to my every need. He then looked to Montoya who was doing an awful job of eavesdropping, “Montoya, get this man a cup of coffee,“

She shot up from her desk, “Right away, sir!” she exclaimed and rushed off to what I imagined was the break room. 

“Come with me to my office,” Gordon said. We walked together, up the stairs and into the central office he emerged from. His desk was cluttered with all sorts of documents and papers, pages of case files and autopsy reports lined the desktop, the only item not out of place was a picture frame that showed a younger Gordon, a woman who looked to be the same age as him in the picture, and a little girl who I could only assume was their daughter. He sat behind his old worn out wooden desk, I sat opposite him, “Sorry to pry but why do you want to speak to Batman? I assumed you superheroes all knew each other,”

“You would think that, but we mostly act locally,” It would be nice to meet the other heroes, they all seem so cool. To witness Wonder Woman’s bravery, Green Lantern’s ambition, The Flash’s wit. To even be in the same room as these icons would make my day. I decided to talk about my encounter with Batman with Gordon, “He actually came to me last night but I didn’t get to have a real conversation with him,”

“Really? What sort of business would he want with you?” Gordon asked.

“I have no clue. He told me to leave, which has thrown me off,” I said.

“Maybe he doesn’t like the competition, he probably watched you save Bruce Wayne’s life and got jealous,” He said jokingly. 

“I might have to ask him that when I meet him again,” I smiled at his joke. 

Gordon pushed back the sleeve of his shirt, reading the time on his watch, “Speaking of Bruce, his conference is about to start,” He reached for a TV remote and pointed it at the television that sat in the corner of the desk, turning it on. 

Appearing on the TV was a live broadcast of Bruce, he was walking up to a podium just like yesterday. I thought back to the assassin and wanted to crash through the wall and save him again, but I was put at ease when I realised the conference was happening indoors. I felt a connection seeing him in the red tie again, knowing that I chose that colour for him brought me a little bit of joy. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming, “ Bruce addressed the crowd, “Before I begin my speech I would like to say a statement about yesterday’s events. To keep things brief, I am fine and not harmed. I would like to extend a thanks to Superman, it was unlikely for him to appear, but if it wasn’t for him I’m not sure I would be standing here today. That concludes my initial statement, now I will discuss the restoration of Gotham Nation Bank after the attack months prior,”

Bruce then began to talk about the bank and what he will do to improve the security and structure of the building. Even if I didn’t find the topic interesting or relevant to me personally, seeing how he commanded the attention of the public was inspiring, you would think he was a politician with how diplomatic he was. I didn’t even notice Montoya joining us with my coffee because I was so enamoured by how eloquent Bruce was. 

I thanked her for the coffee and sipped on the hot bitter liquid as we continued to watch Bruce begin the interview portion of the conference. None of the questions were about the bank, they were all interested in me.

“Mr. Wayne, what is your relationship with Superman?” One interviewer said.

“I have never met him before and I haven’t seen him since the attack,” Bruce replaced.

“Sir, what are your thoughts that the attack was staged?” Another interviewer said.

“I can assure you it was not staged,” Bruce replied, he wasn’t lying. I saw the mechanics of the gun, it was real.

“Do you know that Superman is currently at the GCPD right now asking to meet Batman?” The last interviewer said. 

I noticed Bruce’s eyebrow raise, his lip curling into the faintest smirk, “No, I didn’t know that. I might have to go down there and say my thanks personally,” 

The conference was starting to conclude, that finally question sticking with me. So much for being discreet I thought to myself, now all of Gotham knows I’m here. It won’t be long until the press make their way over here. And once they show up I know I’ll have to answer the same pointless questions they asked Bruce. 

About an hour passed, it was almost noon. I had to be patient in waiting for the night but time seemed to slow down while I waited. Do I have to fly around the world and speed up time or something? I thought, trying not to let my boredom show as I sat in the Commissioner's office. Gordon was currently on the phone with someone.

“Hey sweetie, sorry to tell you but daddy’s gonna have to stay back late tonight. There’s some leftovers in the fridge…” he said to the person on the other line, the person he was talking to sounded like a preteen girl. Something she said caught his attention as he looked up at me just over his glasses, “…yes, Superman is here. But I don’t want you coming here by yourself, it’s dangerous… alright, love you too,” 

“May I ask who that was?” I asked.

“My daughter,” Gordon replied with a sorrowfulness to his voice, “She’s old enough to make her way around the city and I’ve taught her how to defend herself, I just don’t want her to be worried about the things I deal with here. She’s all I have,” 

“Are you divorced?” I felt stupid for asking.

“My wife passed away about a year ago,” he face was stone cold and his response was icy.

My heart dropped, I replied, “I’m sorry to hear that,” wishing I had never brought up his wife. 

“It’s fine. Thank you,” Gordon said, his thanks being genuine. 

There was now an awkward air in the room, caused by my stupidity of making Gordon remember his dead wife. I looked at the photo on his desk, staring into the eyes of his wife, silently apologising for my ignorance. This tension however was broken by Montoya swinging open the door of the office.

“Commissioner, I tried my best to stop them but they wouldn’t-“ she was pushed out of the way by an uptight reporter and her camera crew.

“This is Vicki Vale for Gotham Gazette with an exclusive with the one and only Superman,” the peppy woman introduced herself speaking into a large microphone, “What brings you to Gotham?”

She shoved the microphone in my face, pushing it against my mouth. The camera coming tighter into my face, I was beginning to feel claustrophobic, “I was in the area,” I said, sounding mousy. 

“What is your relation to Bruce Wayne?” Vicki said, then thrusting the microphone into my face again.

“I have no relation with him,” which is a lie, I’m currently staying at his house.

“And why do you want to meet with Batman?” She still shoved the microphone into my face.

Before I could get my answer out, Gordon got to his feet and called out in a booming voice, “That’s enough, get out of here or I’ll have you arrested!” he waved his arms in the air trying to shoo away the reporter and the camera operators as if they were a flock of birds. It got so bad that Vicki was still trying to get some more questions out while he was trying to hold her off, pressing against the door. 

“I’ve heard of adversarial journalism but that’s outrageous,” I said to Gordon, “Is that what you mean by dangerous?”

“If she was the worst that Gotham had to offer, I would have retired by now,” he smiled. I was glad to see that he still had a sense of humor. 

And then came the waiting game, the run in with the reporter being the only interesting thing that happened during this time. Gordon saw this as an opportunity to continue his work while all I did was mindlessly watch the television in his office. There was some sort of competition show, people would do a performance or sing a song and then a number would appear on the screen telling people to vote for them. I didn’t know what the competition was for but I was entertained by the different performers they had. One group caught my eye, they were a trio of trapeze artists that called themselves ‘The Flying Graysons’, a man, a woman, and their son. Seeing them glide through the air with ease impressed me, the coordination as a unit must have taken years to perfect. I was most impressed by the little boy, he was so young but capable of things most adults can’t do. The way his body moved, you would think he was some sort of superhuman with the spine of steel. I wanted to call in just for him alone but I had no phone I could use. The show ended, I was excited to see that the boy and his family made it to the next round. 

I drowned out the evening news that followed after, so bored of waiting for the night to come.

Chapter Text

I’ve never been this excited to see the sunset. Night was approaching quickly which meant I was soon going to be able to talk to Batman. Gordon and I got out of our seats, he walked me out of his office and through to a staircase that led to the roof of the building. My mind raced with what could be on the roof, even thinking that Batman was waiting for me. He must have seen what Bruce was told, about how I was here to see him, so maybe he was already there. Once we came to the roof I became disappointed, no one was waiting for us, not even a pigeon. All that there was on the roof was a large spotlight lamp that pointed up at the night sky. 

“Shouldn’t Batman be here,” I asked Gordon.

“Give me a minute, kid, let me catch my breath,” he replied, breathing heavily. Walking up those stairs must be hard for someone his age. He pointed to the spotlight, “I need to turn on the signal,”

I looked back to the spotlight and came closer to it, that’s when I saw the round, bat shaped logo covering the lens of the light. So this is the Bat-Signal I thought once I intuited what I was seeing. I began to wonder. If Batman uses a visual cue to be called upon, that must mean that he doesn’t have any sort of superhuman or supernatural abilities. It was demystifying to think that he was just a regular human, from all the stories I’ve heard he seemed more like an urban legend or some kind of cryptid. The current theory about who Batman was evolves: He works for Bruce Wayne and is human, which was asinine because that could be anyone. 

I didn’t notice Gordon coming up to the spotlight, he had caught his breath, and flicked the switch to turn it on. The giant bulb slowly hummed to life as it began to shine a soft yellow glow into the dark cloud, the bat icon obscuring the light creating a silhouette. The light took about a minute to reach full luminosity. We stepped away from the light, looking up at the large bat shadow in the dark clouds in the sky. 

“How long does it usually take for him to show up?” I asked.

“It depends on when he sees the signal but it’s usually about an hour or so,” Gordon replied.

Great, more waiting.

“You’re the ones keeping me waiting,” a third voice said. That deep and thunderous tone, I would recognise it anywhere.

Batman stepped out from the shadows, his black cape draped over his shoulders made him blend in seamlessly into the background. Gordon and I turned to see him which caused the Commissioner to jump, I was unphased however. 

“Jesus, Batman! Could’ve given us a warning,” Gordon held onto his chest in shock. His hand had reflexively reached into his holster and gripped his firearm, only relaxing once he realised who it was. 

“How long have you been here?” I asked. I was ignoring the Commissioner at this point, I needed to get to the bottom of this alone.

“I’ve been here for hours,” Batman replied.

“I find that hard to believe,” I said with confidence, “You don’t operate during the daytime,”

Batman smirked, “You know nothing, Superman,” 

I knew by the way he said my name that he was wanting to call me Clark, but he couldn’t do that in front of Gordon. I looked to the Commissioner and told him, “Thank you for your service, sir. I can handle it from here,” 

“Are you sure, I don’t want anything bad blood between you two-“

“Go home, Jim,” Batman called out, “I know Barbara is worried about you,” 

Gordon jumped again, this time making him collect his pride. I didn’t know Batman could elicit such a reaction out of a hardened detective like this, “Of course. It was an honor to meet you, Superman. Good luck,”

I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to him as he scurried away. It was now just me and Batman, alone on the roof of the GCPD, staring each other down like some old spaghetti western. I didn’t think we were going to fight, that’s not how he works, and that wasn’t my intention either. This was to be a battle of wits. 

“So you decide to show up-“

“Cut the crap, Clark,” he cut me off, “Why didn’t you listen to me?” 

“Why should I listen to you? You didn’t give me a reason to leave so I stayed,”  I said.

“If I knew you were going to be this petulant I wouldn’t have brought you here,” Batman replied, seemingly disappointed in me. 

“You brought me here? But it was Bruce Wayne who requested me to come here,” a light bulb went off in my head, “Unless I’m correct?”

Batman perked up, “Correct in what?”

“That you’re working for Bruce Wayne!” I exclaimed, trying hard not to smile, thinking I had cracked the code.

Batman scoffed, trying to hold back laughter, “Wow. So close yet so far. You’re a journalist, I thought you would have solved it by now. Is that all you’ve figured out?”

“No,” I was blindly confident, he knew that I knew I had nothing else.

“No? What more have you come up with?” Batman asked in a mocking tone. 

“That you’re human,” I stuttered, embarrassed for even thinking of such a stupid response. 

He let out a hearty chuckle which then became hysterical laughter. I did not like this, why his plan to ridicule and make fun of me this whole time? I wanted to fly away and leave Gotham for good, but all I did was stand awkwardly while he laughed in my face, holding back tears of embarrassment. 

“Ok, so maybe I don’t know who you are. What do you know about me?” I said in protest, mad about this whole interaction. 

Batman’s laughter slowed and stopped, he straightened himself out and returned to his focused state. He then spoke as if he was reading a script, “You are an alien from the now destroyed planet, Krypton. Your real name is Kal-El but the name you were given by your adopted parents is Clark Joseph Kent, you are the son of Jonathan and Martha Kent. You were raised in Smallville, Kansas and debuted as a superhero when you were 15 as ‘Superboy’. You are a college graduate with a bachelor's degree in journalism but did not continue to get your masters, while at college you met your arch-nemesis Lex Luthor while studying. You moved to Metropolis to further your career and got a job at The Daily Planet. You work closely with the journalist Lois Lane who you secretly have a crush on, but we both know she’s definitely out of your league,” I knew that he could go on but he stopped himself, leaving me dumbfounded. He smirked at me, pleased with himself about how he was able to rattle me. 

To be honest I was scared, I was too stunned to even move. How long did it take him to learn all this information about me? He must have had enough time to figure everything out about me. I was utterly defeated by him.

“So what, are you trying to blackmail me?” I asked him, not trying to hide my bitterness. 

“I have no reason to blackmail you, I only wanted to know one thing,” he replied, as if I would believe that.  

“About what?”

“I wanted to know if I was right about you, and I succeeded,” he told me. He turned away from me and stepped towards the ledge of the building, propping his leg up and looking down into the alley below us. He materialised his grappling hook from his cloak, firing the hook into the ground, “I’m tired of playing this game. Come, I’ll tell you everything,” 

“Where are you going?” I questioned, coming close to him. He didn’t answer, all he did was begin his descent downwards as he repelled from the wall, disappearing back into the night.

I reached over the ledge and looked down into the alley. Without my knowledge sat the Batmobile in its menacing glory, waiting for its owner. The car sat low to the ground with a wide chassis and armoured plating to create a bulkier appearance, it resembled more of a military vehicle than a normal car. Batman had made it to the ground by now and looked up at me, he held up his hand and gestured for me to come down. I followed his orders and stepped off the ledge, floating in midair for a moment before hovering down to him. 

“Show off,” Batman mocked.

I thought he was trying to be playful and retorted with, “You would do it too if you could,” 

And it seemed to work as I caught a glimpse of his smile as he opened the car door. The door swinging upwards like some sort of insect. He hopped into the driver's seat and I followed soon after, careful to not hit my chin on the rising car door. I sank into the leather seat, surprised by the soft and supple fabric. Despite the tough exterior, the inside of the Batmobile was quite fancy. The doors closed automatically as Batman pressed a button on the complicated dashboard, causing the engine to roar to life. The Batmobile accelerated sharply out of the alley, merging into traffic, and sped off to its destination.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, holding onto the handle of the door for stability.

“We’re going to the Bat-Cave,” he told me, “Like I said, this game is getting old. And with how close you are to winning, I might as well give you your prize,”

“You keep talking about this ‘game’, what is it?” I was getting frustrated at how vague he was being, “And what prize are you talking about? I don’t want anything, I just want answers,”

“That’s an oxymoron,” he smugly retorted.

“I don’t care! Just tell me what’s going on, I don’t want to be a player in this game,” my frustration has turned to anger, he keeps toying with me for no reason. Does he get some sort of sadist kick in questioning my intelligence? To be fair I haven’t given him much indication of that fact, to him I must look pretty stupid. 

“My identity,” he said finally, “That is the prize,”

That’s what this has been about, Batman has been wanting me to figure out who he truly is. This was truly significant, no one knows who is behind the cowl, I don’t even think Bruce Wayne knows. But with what Batman said, saying I was close to figuring it out, maybe my theory of Batman working for Bruce wasn’t that far off. Maybe it goes deeper. But how deep could it go? Maybe instead of a working relationship it’s a familiar one, possibly a platonic one, or even a romantic relationship. But somehow all of these conclusions still don’t add up. 

That’s when it all clicked for me, who Batman is. I looked at him, coming to my final conclusion. 

I would have fully formed my thoughts if it wasn’t for the truck that crashed into us at high speed, causing the Batmobile to spin out and roll across the road. 

The Batmobile was ruined, the collision had destroyed the vehicle beyond recognition. Glass and metal littered the road as other cars crashed into each other at the accident. Something told me that this was no simple accident, this crash was intentional. As I came to, I was too weak to move. Batman was unconscious next to me, his head beginning to bleed. Using my limited amount of power I used my x-ray vision to see if he had any internal bleeding, luckily he didn’t but he still was not worse for wear. I counted a few fractures and a nasty case of whiplash. 

Using my x-ray vision drained me of all my power, even just a few seconds of use tired me out. And I wish I was at full power as I heard the sound of the maniacal laughter of Gotham’s clown Price of Crime, Joker. This night went from bad to worse. He was definitely the one who crashed into us.

“Hunting season is over, we caught ourselves a bat!” His pale white face with its contorted red smile came into view, “And with a side of Superham too! Harley, give me the rope!”

“But boss, they look so cute sleeping next to each other,” Harley Quinn, Joker's equally insane partner, commented as she fawned over us. She held a length of rope in her hand and had the same white face as Joker. Unlike Joker’s chemically altered skin, I could see that she was wearing makeup because I noticed her blushing through the face paint when looking down at us, “It’s just like those stories I read online,”

“No one cares about your stupid fan fiction, now give me the damn rope!” Joker called out, holding his hand out. Harley begrudgingly hands the rope to her partner and he begins to tie up Batman, uncontrollably giggling while he does so. Once Batman was securely tied up, Joker handed the reins to Harley and bolted away from the wreck. He called out to her, “Drag him over for me, I’ll keep the truck warm. Come alone, the show must go on,”

Harley looked at him wildly, “You want me to drag him? He weighs, like, two of me!” She said in protest. 

“Think of it as exercise, we all could get our steps in,” He cackled as he skipped back to their truck, which had a Batmobile shaped dent from where it crashed into us.

She grumbled obscenities under her breath as she dragged Batman out of the car and across the road like a black and grey sack of potatoes. Joker kept yelling at her to hurry up, eventually honking the horn of the truck at her which did nothing to help her. Harley eventually made it to the truck and hoisted Batman into the back, struggling to push him in all while Joker continued to hurl insults at her. 

In the blink of an eye, the truck was gone, along with Batman. I had regained my strength at the wrong time, as when I managed to exit the ruined car, they had already turned the corner. My feet stumbled after them before I fell to the ground, feeling utterly defeated and now guilty. All I could think was that this was all my fault, this is what Batman was trying to avoid and I didn’t listen to him. I knew I needed to save him, to rewrite my wrongs and prevent Gotham from falling into chaos.

Chapter Text

My legs felt like rubber as I tried to stand up, regaining my bearings. I knew there was no use trying to go after Joker, I had no clue where was heading so I had no way of stopping him. But I knew I needed to get the GCPD involved. Looking to the gloomy sky, I spot the Bat-Singal in the air. I treated that light as my North Star and began my journey back. My feet pounded at the road at a light pace but then I gradually sped up, almost leaping with each step I took. I needed to conserve as much energy as possible, if the night was leading to what I think then I’m going to need all the strength I could muster. Flying would be the easiest and quickest way to get there but then I would become useless. 

I’ve been out of the sun too long and its effects have taken its toll on me. The lack of energy is what’s stunned me, it’s never this bad when I’m out of the sun for this long. This feeling was sickening, even simply running felt like hell. But I needed to push through this suffering, to save Batman and protect Gotham. I was relieved to see that the precinct wasn’t too far away, about 20 minutes of running, any longer and I would have collapsed in the street. The doors to the GCPD were just in sight, I pushed through them and rushed through, making a b-line to the Commissioner’s office. 

I swung the door wide open, “Commissioner- Joker- Batman!” I was incoherent, becoming delirious with exhaustion.

“What are you saying?” Gordon stood up from his desk, alerted by my presence.

“Joker kidnapped Batman,” I managed to say.

This caused a stir in him, his face grimacing aggressively. He jumped out from his desk and moved past me, he stepped out onto the mezzanine and called out to the other officers, “I’m going to need all officers on patrol, Batman has just been kidnapped by Joker,” 

All the officers that heard the message scramble into action, it was a pandemonium. Each of the officers assembled themselves into their squads and made their way to the police garages, like a fleet of blue soldiers. Gotham was in full lockdown mode. 

Gordon came back to his office, ready to get more information out of me, “Do you know where he was taking him?”

“I don’t know, he crashed into the Batmobile and then kidnapped him,” I explained, wishing I could have been of better use, “He mentioned some kind of show,”

“That’s fine, thanks for the heads up,” he said, running his hand through his hair trying to make sense of the situation, “I need the news, some has to be reporting the crash,”

Gordon stepped back to his deck and picked up the remote, turning the TV on. He started by changing the channels to find a news source to see what station was reporting the news, he found a station that was already talking about the crash but the broadcast started glitching out and was being interrupted by a crudely drawn slate card. Once the card was dropped the man of the hour was revealed.

The familiar lime green hair and eubergen coat stood out against the late night show set, the background was in disarray as if it was set up in a rush. The Joker grinned to the audience as he introduced himself, “Ladies and Gentlemen of Gotham, it is I, The Joker, here tonight to entertain you all with a fabulous show. Tonight I have a very special guest. Introducing: Batman!”

The camera panned over to the Joker’s left where the guest would usually sit, instead it was an unconscious Batman tied to the chair. Obviously fake cheering played over footage of Batman slumped in his chair. 

“What in the hell is he up to this time!?” Gordon called out. He tried changing the channels but they were all showing the Joker’s broadcast; he had successfully infiltrated the networks and taken over the airwaves. 

“Now tonight’s show is actually a fundraiser. As you can see from the graph behind me,” Joker pointed to a poorly drawn poster that has a blank thermometer that ranged from ‘0’ to ‘An undisclosed and unobtainable amount of money’, “You might be wondering what the money is for, well it is to see how much Batman’s life is worth. By the end of the night, if we reach our goal I’ll let this batty fly free, but if we don’t meet it…”

Joker reached into his coat and pulled out a chrome revolver with a long barrel and placed it against Batman’s temple, “It will be curtains for Batsy!” He then laughed his bone-chilling cackle as a phone number flashed on the screen in red text.

“No! That number, that’s the GCPD’s number!” Gordon cried out. Just as he said that every single phone started to ring, the shrill sound of about a hundred phones ringing was ear splitting to say the least. He picked up the phone that was in his office, hung up the call immediately, and left the phone off the hook to prevent more calls, he looked to me and told me, “Quick, follow me,”

Without a word we spring out of the office and rush down the stairs to the sea of desks. The sound of all the phones ringing was too much to handle, it felt as if my ear drums were being pricked by a thousand needles. We needed to stop the calls from coming in, every person in Gotham was prank-calling the GCPD. One by one, Gordon and I hung up the incoming calls and left the receivers off the hook. It felt endless, as when we hung up one section of phones we could hear more in the distance blaring their ringtone. It must have taken half an hour of running up and down the precinct trying to stop the calls for us to be done. Tired and dejected, we returned to Gordon’s office. Seeing Joker’s impish grin on the TV felt like an insult, he knew his scheme worked even without seeing the damage. 

“What are we going to do?” I was starting to really freak out, my heart racing as I watched Gordon pace back and forth in his office.

“We need to get to that studio before it’s too late,” he told me. He came close to the television, analysing the set trying to figure out where it could be. His eyebrows shot up and he pointed to something on the screen “I know where they are!”

“Where? I’ll fly there now!” I called out, unsure I’d be able to even get out the door in my current state.

Gordon stepped away from the TV and stood informed of a large map of Gotham that hung on the wall. He pointed to a theater, “They’re on the set of that competition show, I could tell by the curtains. I know they film it here,” 

“Just give me the address and I’ll go stop him,” I said. Gordon told me how to get to the theater and I was out the door in a flash. Knowing where Batman was filled me with resolve, giving me a second chance to use my powers. I stormed out of the building and jumped into the night air carelessly. My power drained every mile I flew, but I’d rather save Batman’s life when I’m closer to death than letting him die. 

I followed the Commissioners directions and spotted the theater, circling around the building to spot some sort of back entrance. Once I saw an opening I swooped down into the adjacent alleyway and located the back door, wrapped around the handle was a large metal chain with several unnecessary locks. I gripped the chain tight and pulled the handles off the door with ease, bursting though and securing a path to the stage. 

The way though the backstage was winding and confusing, all I had as a reference of where I was supposed to go was to listen to Joker ramble on about nonsense, still urging people to call the misleading phone number. The stage was just in sight as I came close to the wings, waiting in them to analyse the theater for any hidden threats. The auditorium was empty, the chairs were filled with cardboard cutouts of cartoon characters and celebrities; so much for a live studio audience. Barring Batman, it was only Joker and Harley on the stage. She was operating the camera, while Joker spoke into a microphone that wasn’t even plugged in. I crouched down and creeped out from the wing, trying to be as stealthy as possible. 

When the light hit me, Harley immediately spotted me, her body stiffened with fear as she slowly pointed the camera to me. She told Joker with a cautious tone, “Uhh, Mr. J. We’ve got company,”

“Turn the camera to me, Harley!” He yelled at her, ignoring her warning.

“Sorry boss,” she yelped, whipping the camera back to him. 

Joker looked over his shoulder to see what she was talking about. His grin somehow grew bigger once he saw me, “Ladies and Gentlemen we have a surprise guest tonight. Introducing: Superlame!”

It was useless crouching, so I stood up and marched towards him, doing my best to act as if I was at full power, “This ends now, Joker,” 

“But the fun has just started!” he said, “Besides, I have a surprise for you,”

“Listen to me!” I grabbed onto the collar of his coat and pulled him closer to me, “Stop the show or I’ll make you stop it,”

“And here I thought you were different than old Batsy-bo,” He sighed, “But if you’re going to threaten me like that, might as well show my hand,"

Joker reached one of his hands into his pocket and pulled out something I was not expecting him to have. My drained energy now made sense, when I was in proximity with him I felt that familiar sickness. It only made sense when I saw the glowing Green Kryptonite in his hand. I let go of his collar and crumpled onto the floor like a balled up piece of paper, feeling the searing pain of the energy emanate from the crystal. In a strained voice I asked, “Where did you get that?”

“Oh this old thing?” Joker replied, rolling the kryptonite between his fingers, “As soon as I got word of your arrival, I got in contact with that baldy you call a nemesis, Lex Luther, and asked if I could borrow some of his supply. I was skeptical of the stuff but now I see its true potential!” 

“Stop it, put it away,” I cried out, groveling on my hands and knees in front of him. 

“But this is fun! More fun than a half-dead Batman,” He cackled, dancing around me as he thrust the kryptonite close to me with each pass. 

I needed to stop this, get rid of the kryptonite. I could feel my life drain from my body, even with such a small amount it would be enough to kill me, ”You sadistic man, don’t make me hurt you,” 

He cheered and stood in front of me, “Yay, more threats! I hope you’re getting this, Harley,“ 

“You bet your pretty butt I am,” she commented, zooming in on my desperation, my face covered in sweat.

I kneeled in front of Joker’s feet and held onto his legs, gripping onto the fabric of his pants. I looked up at him with pain in my eyes, I didn’t want to look at his garish grin but I had no choice, “I’m warning you, please don’t let me hurt you,”

“Aww, now how could I say no to those baby blues,” he feigned his sympathy and cackled again, “NOT!”

He shoved the kryptonite in my face, the pain was unbearable as the crystal was just centimetres away from my face. My skin felt like it would melt off. I needed to push through the searing pain if I was to be successful in my plan.

“I warned you,” I told him. Swiftly, I sat up onto my knee and grabbed onto his shirt. I pulled the Joker up into the air, over my head, and flung him into the empty crowd, over Harley’s head. He was incapacitated. The kryptonite fell onto the stage when I threw him, the burning feeling searing my foot. 

“No!” Harley cried out. She abandoned the camera and came to his aide, checking for a pulse before wailing over his unconscious body. 

I needed to get rid of the kryptonite. I made sure to line myself up with the camera before saying, “Shows over, folks,” and then kicking the crystal as hard as I could into the camera, destroying it, and sending the crystal through the brick wall of the theater.

As soon as the kryptonite was well out of reach, I felt rejuvenated, all the pain was gone. My strength came back to me, despite still needing sunlight to fully recover. I had enough power to free Batman and leave the studio. I turned back and rushed towards him, crouching down. I burned away his restraints with my heat vision, freeing him from his bindings. I was ready to scoop him out of the chair and fly out again before I heard a stirring coming from Harley.

“No one hurts my puddin’ and gets away with it!” She called out.

I spun my head around to see her standing tall, holding what looked to be a small gas canister high into the air. She unscrewed the release valve, releasing a faint green gas into the air. She threw the gas cylinder onto the stage, and attempted to carry out Joker. I knew the gas was bad news when I started coughing, feeling the burning chemicals fill my throat and lungs. The room was beginning to fill with this gas, and it was hard for me to breathe let alone carry Batman out of the theater. 

I needed to act fast, sure the kryptonite was bad but Batman and I could both suffocate on this unknown gas. I grabbed a hold of the gas cylinder and began blowing on it with my frost breath, trying to somehow supercool the gas coming out into ice. The ambient temperature of the room was dropping and so was the gas line as I continued to blow, the metal of the canister was freezing to the touch as the gas began to liquify along the valve. I knew I was succeeding when I saw ice crystals form, and slowly sealing it he valve closed with ice. The room was ice cold but now gas free.

My attention moved back to Batman, his poor body having to endure a car crash, toxic gases, freezing temperatures, and Joker’s bad jokes. I picked him up from the chair and held him in my arms as I walked his unconscious body out. I held him close to my warm body as we soared into the air,  unsure of where to go. It was obvious for me to return to the GCPD but it would be too predictable. The hospital was my next option but that had the same issue as the precinct, plus I don’t know where it was located. But something in my brain was telling me to go to a different destination entirely. I looked away from the signal in the sky and flew away from mainland Gotham. 

I flew through the outer suburbs of the city, trying to find a specific house that for some reason felt like the right place. It didn’t take long at all until I saw the familiar stone walls and spires of Wayne Manor, the sprawling courtyard was my target, the place I first met Batman; ironic. Maybe Bruce would be able to help I thought, still second guessing my theory. Even if he can’t help then at least Alfred would know what to do, he’d probably tell me to take him to the hospital like a normal person, but who knows maybe he knows a better solution.

I swooped down in a gradual arc as I made my descent into the courtyard, still holding Batman close to my chest. I was careful in my landing as I didn’t want to disturb him. As soon as my feet touched the grass, I hit the ground running to the doors to the conservatory.

“Bruce, Alfred!” I called out, trying to get their attention, “I have Batman, he’s injured. 

The sound of frantic footsteps could be heard outside the door, Alfred swung open the door and gasped at the sight of me holding Batman.

“Oh god heavens!” He exclaimed. He rushed to my side and looked down at Batman’s unconscious and beaten face, his eyes wide with shock. 

“I’m sorry to alarm you, but this man needs medical-“

“Bruce!” Alfred ignored me, he held onto the sides of Batman’s face while fighting back tears. 

When he said his name I expected Bruce to be coming around the corner and into the conservatory with us, but he never showed. Why was he not coming? His ally is hurt and his butler is calling for him, “What are you talking about?” I asked Alfred.

He looked up at me slowly, still with those same wide eyes but now expressing terror, as if he had said something he was not supposed to. His voice was quiet when he responded, “He hasn’t told you yet, has he?”

“I don’t understand,” I said, overwhelmed by how confusing this has become.

“I’m sorry,” Alfred sighed in defeat, letting go of his fear as he weighed with the reality of the situation, he spoke to Batman’s unconscious form, “This game is over, Master Bruce,”

Alfred reached for the edge of Batman’s cowl. I wanted to try and pull him away to protect his identity, but I was too stunned by the situation. There was something significant about this moment, what he said made sure of that. His white gloved hand reached under the black cowl, he pulled it off of Batman’s chin and released his face from behind the mask. 

Despite the broken nose, the busted lip, the blue bruises and the red sticky blood, his face was instantly recognisable. My mind went blank as I looked up and down his body, making sure what I was seeing was real. It was a complete eureka moment, that one theory I came up with but forgot due to the crash came rushing back. There was no need to try and prove my point, I was holding all the evidence I needed in my arms.

Bruce Wayne is Batman.

Chapter Text

Bruce Wayne is Batman is a fact that is now as true as the sky is blue. My body went still, trying desperately to come to terms with this fact, but everything felt so surreal in this moment. It was an out of body experience. I could see myself standing there holding up the body of Bruce Wayne dressed as Batman with Alfred looking over us. This isn’t happening I thought, this is some twisted dream and I’m going to wake up any second now, but I never woke up. But right now none of this mattered, this revelation I  was faced with had to wait. Bruce was injured and he needs our help. Alfred came beside me and offered to help lift Bruce, having his dead weight rest on top of our shoulders.

“Follow my lead,” he said as we started walking.

Alfred led us out of the conservatory and into the main hall. I could feel myself getting on edge, not knowing where he was taking me only caused me anxiety. If Bruce was willing to hide the secret of him being Batman, then what else was he hiding in his house. I would assume being Batman was the biggest secret one could hide, but frankly this visit to Gotham has opened my eyes to so many possibilities. 

We end up in the foyer, grand staircase and all. Alfred stopped moving and told me to hold onto Bruce. Surely the big reveal isn’t here? I thought to myself, looking around at the walls and the ceiling trying to find some kind of sign, an indication that something was off. But everything was in its place. 

Alfred stepped towards the grandfather clock and opened the compartment to the clock’s face. He slowly moved the hands of the clock to read midnight, he then rotated the hands and stopped when the hands met certain times then continued to the next time. He did this 5 times in a row before returning the hands to midnight. Such a sequence must mean something.

Alfred stepped away from the clock after closing the case, he came to my side, “I’d advise you to stand back”

My feet shuffled back once I felt the rumblings of a machine underneath me. That’s when I saw it, the steps of the staircase sliding back into the wall and opening a large pit in the middle of the room. I wanted to look down into the chasm, but was met with the sight of corrugated metal. A caged elevator was rising from the ground before my very eyes, jolting to a stop and waiting for us to board its compartment. Without a word, we board the elevator which begins to descend when Alfred tells it to. 

We were in the dark for about half a minute, the noise of the stair reconfiguring itself could be heard as we were lowered into the depths of the manor. The scene of a vast cave opened up to us the further down we went. I could see several Batmobile’s of all shapes and sizes, a large super computer with its own private servers, different Batman suits in several colours and styles in tall glass containers. All of these things were perfectly carved into the rocky walls, as if they’ve existed since the dawn of time. 

The elevator had come to the ground floor of the cave, “Welcome to the Batcave,” Alfred informed me.

I was speechless throughout all of this moment, but seeing the Batcave for the first time takes the cake. The thought of all of this existing under Wayne Manor was somehow more frightening than Bruce being Batman. At least Bruce can just wear a costume, how do you hide a secret underground crime fighting organisation? From my knowledge, no one (besides Batman) has ever stepped foot in the Batcave. This was a historical moment for me and for Bruce, it’s too bad that we aren’t able to enjoy it together. 

Alfred led me to some sort of alcove, in the middle of this space sat a long white bed with different medical equipment surrounding it, different kinds of heart rate monitors and IV stands. He told me to lay Bruce down and I did so gently, careful to not cause anymore damage. 

Alfred removed his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, there was a box of gloves that he took from and traded his white cotton ones for green latex. I took a pair from the box too. It was obvious that Bruce was badly wounded and I was not qualified to take this kind of job on, the only sort of first aid I learned was a course my high school made us do; I wish I paid attention back then because that would have come in handy now.

“Do you mind using your x-ray vision to see if anything is broken?” Alfred asked.

I do as he asked, and speak for once, “He has a broken rib and his right forearm is fractured. He also breathed in a lot of the Joker’s gas too,”

When I mentioned the gas, Alfred frantically pulled out a face mask and placed it over Bruce’s mouth and nose. He turned the valve of the canister that was attached to the mask on, which allowed filtered air to circulate through the mask. He then went to work on the cracked rib. With a pair of shears, Alfred cut down the middle of Bruce’s suit and exposed his bare chest. Seeing the bruises and scars across his muscular body brought me closer to reality, bringing a tear to my eye. I could see his injured form in all its mangled glory, regardless of who he was, Bruce was in pain. 

I caused him this pain, Joker wouldn’t have crashed the Batmobile if it wasn’t for me telegraphing my location. Maybe even saving Bruce from the bullet was a mistake, but I knew that was not true. If I didn’t save him I would only blame myself for his theoretical death. But I think of this while looking at his battered, unconscious body; how ironic. It must be fate that all of this was going to happen, that something traumatic was inevitably going to happen to Bruce, and I was always going to be the one to save him. Fatalism sucks. 

Alfred placed a plastic clip onto one of Bruce’s fingers and turned on the heart rate monitor, the screen coming online showing the slowness of his heartbeat. Alfred came to a cabinet that was adjacent to the bed and opened the door, he held onto an IV bag that was filled with a clear solution, a thin tube, and a sterile package for a cannula kit. He came back to Bruce’s side and hung the bag onto the stand, attaching the tube to the bag as well. Taking a small alcohol wipe, Alfred cleans the inside of Bruce’s elbow, preparing it for the needle. He removed the needle from the package and guided it to the spot he disinfected, slowly sticking it into the vein, and then connecting the IV bag. 

“Is there anything I can help with?” I asked, feeling stupid for just standing there and watching him do all of this. 

Alfred looked up at me, “Thank you, but I have it from here,” 

“But-“

Alfred raised his hand to stop me, “I will be fine, Mr. Kent. I will explain everything once I’m done,” 

I was undecided, I knew that Alfred was only trying to help however I felt as if I needed to be by Bruce’s side. But I knew if I stayed I would just be a distraction to Alfred, and that was also undesirable. So I turned away from them and let him go to work. 

The tall walls of the dark cave felt isolating as I waited desperately for Alfred to be finished, feeling the cold breeze chill me as I looked up and down the rocky surfaces. Despite the spacious cave, I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. My heart felt as if it was going to burst through my chest, my chest hurting from how hard I was breathing. My ears started to ring a high pitched tone as I felt the anxiety becoming overwhelming, I covered them and crouched down waiting for all of this to be over.

Drowning out this feeling was difficult. I tried recalling home and my parents, but everytime I tried to remember my parents face, a cold breeze would blow past me and force me to start all over again. Would they be proud of what I did? How could they? I’ve caused so much pain and created more problems than solved. They must never know what happened here, but they’ll find out eventually, which is the scariest part. .

“It’s all right,” I heard Ma’s voice in my head say, “We all make mistakes,” 

I could finally see her face, my Father’s face coming into view as she spoke.

“You know what to do to fix this,” Pa’s voice said, “So fix it,”

I let go of my head, the ringing had stopped. My resolve was officially back. Rising from the ground with my newly regained confidence, I knew what needed to be done, I needed to take back some control. Regardless of what Alfred said, I knew that I needed to help. I came back to the room ready to take on the world. He was holding up Bruce’s broken arm, trying his best to reset the bone but it was obvious that he was struggling.

“Alfred,” I said to him, “if there’s anyway I can help, please let me,”

He looked at me, ready to tell me that everything was under control. But once he saw the fire in my eyes he knew I was serious. Alfred simply said, “Can you hand me the bandages,” 

I was swiftly put to work in helping heal Bruce, with Alfred as my guide. I held his arm as Alfred placed the splint and wrapped the bandages around it, forcing his arm straight. I tried to wrap bandages around Bruce’s chest for his broken ribs until Alfred stopped me, telling me that wrapping bandages around the chest is dangerous and that broken ribs heal on their own. You learn something everyday I told myself, I certainly have tonight. 

Once our work was done, I slumped into a chair that was sitting next to the bed. It was disturbing that there was this chair, my immediate thought was that it was for Alfred to stay and wait for Bruce to wake up. It was a sad thought that this kind of thing happens often, so maybe it was a good thing I stepped in to help and take some of the load. 

Alfred tugged on his latex gloves and pulled them off of his hands, dropping them into the trash. He put back on his original gloves and held himself as normal, “I believe it is time I explain what has happened,”

I leaned forward, perking up to what he said, “Please tell me because I’ve been so confused,”

Alfred began to explain, “Prior to your arrival Burce carried out his own private investigation into Superman and quickly learned your identity. He saw that you worked as a journalist, and wanting to make sure he was right, he made a request for you to interview him in person. His expectation was immediately met when he saw you, but then his plan continued from there,” 

“What was that plan?” I asked.

“He wanted to see if you could figure out his identity,” Alfred said, grimacing slightly in remembrance, "But obviously now that plan has failed because of my assumption,” 

“It’s not your fault. As a matter of fact I got pretty close in figuring it out,” I told him, trying to cheer him up.

“I still failed my task. I was given specific instructions by Master Bruce and I didn’t succeed,” he was becoming agitated. 

I stood up from the chair and placed my hand on his shoulder, now trying to be reassuring, “It’s going to be fine, I’m sure Bruce isn’t going to hold it against you. You helped save his life tonight, that’s more than enough for him to forgive you,” 

“You make a good point,” he sighed. Alfred stared down at Bruce’s sleeping form, his face softening upon seeing him. 

My hand let go of his shoulder, and I smiled at him as I saw the compassion he had for Bruce, “Go, get some rest, you deserve it. I’ll keep him company,” 

Alfred looked back at me with a sort of sparkle in his eyes. I could tell he wanted to object, but he simply nodded his head, understanding that I was right, “I will see you both in the morning,” 

“Yes. Thank you, Alfred,” I said. 

He made his exit, turning back to the elevator we came down in. The sound of the accenting elevator echoed throughout the cave, but the noise shortly stopped once Alfred made it to the top, leaving  me and Bruce alone. Staring at his sleeping form, now cleaned up, just brought back all the questions. I desperately wanted to shake him awake and spew out every thought I’ve had about this situation. My body was filled with such anticipation for him to wake up that all I did was look at him for the longest time and pray he would wake up. 

Hours must have passed of me sitting in silence, still staring daggers at Bruce. My body was desperate for sleep, but I was determined to have my eye on him at all times. But it wasn’t too long once my eyelids became too heavy for me to keep open, that they shut and I was brought into a deep sleep within about a minute. 

When I woke I felt a sensation that I was not expecting, draped across my body was a thin woven blanket. I knew that this was Alfred’s doing and smiled to myself, the brief moment of comfort was interjected by a groan coming from Bruce. The blanket slid off me as I shot up, latching myself to the edge of his bed to see him wake up. 

His eyes slowly opened, revealing his light grey eyes. He continued to squint as he adjusted to the light, but once he saw my face over him, he scoffed and turned his head to the side. 

“Alfred told you, didn’t he?” He said. Bruce’s voice was dry and gravely.

“He did,” I answered simply, “You have a lot of explaining to do,” 

I was ignored. Bruce didn’t respond to me, instead he swung his legs off the bed and stood up. When his feet hit the ground he winced in pain and held onto his ribs, limping away from me and the bed. His expression was unreadable, he was trying hard to hide his pain but I knew how shameful he must be feeling. 

“Where are you going?” I asked.

Still no response, I follow behind him.

“Talk to me, Bruce,”

Silence.

Jumping into the air, I flip over him and land in front of him out-stretching my arms, stopping him from going anywhere.

“Hold it!” I called out.

That’s when I saw his true face. Bruce’s eyes were clouded over with tears, not of pain but of shame, “What do you want me to say?” He asked me, his voice dripping in sorrow.

“I didn’t mean any harm,” my demeanour softened upon seeing Bruce in such a state, “I just want to know why,”

“This was a mistake, a stupid plan that went nowhere,” Bruce tried pushing past me, but I wouldn’t let him until I had my answers.

“I know about the plan,” I told him.

“Great, now get out,” I could feel the rage boil inside him. 

“No,” I said in protest, “Why did you want to meet me so bad?”

Bruce finally snapped, his voice echoing off the walls, “Because I looked up to you!” 

I stood there, stunned by what he had said, unsure if I should be flattered or insulted by his confession. 

Bruce averted his gaze, he continued, “I’ve always been a distant observer of yours ever since I got word of Superman, I carried this observation when I became Batman. I thought that meeting you would change my perspective of you, make me see your flaws. But you kept saving my life, over and over again, proving my assumptions wrong with every move you made. In my years I have never been so wrong about something,”

“What were you wrong about?” I asked him.

“Thinking you would somehow be a bad person,” he looked back at me, his face red with embarrassment, “But I grew to like you. I’ve been so alone, even way back when my parents died, no one was there who understood what I was going through. Then when I heard of another superhero who was also an orphan, I knew I had to meet you regardless of who you were. I had a feeling that we were kindred spirits,”

It was clear enough how hard this was for Bruce to admit. The idea of liking someone in any way brought him anguish, more painful than his broken rib. Hearing him bring up his past and his parents death, and the isolation he felt because of that, reminded me of my own biological parents. I love Ma and Pa but not a day goes by where I don’t mourn the loss of my true parents and my true homeworld. Bruce and I are more similar than I realised. 

“I finally understand,” I told Bruce, “I’m proud of your honesty right now,” 

“I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused,” his apology was genuine, “This was supposed to be a lighthearted experiment, but I got carried away as always,” 

“No need to apologise,” I looked over his shoulder, spotting the elevator, “We should head upstairs, Alfred is probably worried sick about you,” 

With the discussion about the loss of parents, the idea of Bruce’s current father figure brought a warm smile to his face. The pain he felt had evaporated as he simply nodded in agreement. I held out my arm for support and Bruce gladly took it as we slowly limped for the elevator. I looked around the cave again, trying to take as much in as I could. I didn't know when the next time I would be here again. 

We board the elevator and I press the button to go up. The floor shook to life as we were raised into the air, through the dark rocky tunnel. 

“You know what Bruce,” I said.

“What?” He asked. 

“I believe this is the start of a great friendship,”

Chapter Text

A lot had happened in my life in the year after meeting Bruce Wayne. For starters, I finally moved out of my old apartment and moved in with my new girlfriend, Lois Lane. I couldn’t hold back my feelings any longer and had to tell her how I felt. I was relieved when she told me she felt the same way, and we have been together ever since. It was hard to keep my identity as Superman a secret, but when my suit accidentally dyed her white blouse blue in the washing machine, I had to spill the beans. 

She didn’t believe me at first, but once I felt her around with her clinging to me like a spider monkey, she knew I wasn’t joking. But since that day everything had been smooth sailing, we love each other dearly, even if she has to remind me to separate my lights and darks. 

Tonight I was excited, it was our one year anniversary. We had plans to go to the fanciest restaurant in all of Metropolis, probably in all of America, but I had no real formal wear. The only sort of nice clothes I owned was what I wear to work, and I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself or Lois. So I did what anyone else would do and called up their billionaire best friend for advice.

Bruce and I stayed in contact after my visit to Gotham. We would talk about the normal stuff: the weather, the news, what our arch nemesis’ are up to. The usual. I called him a week before the dinner, saying that I didn’t have a nice enough suit to wear. I gave him my measurements when he asked for them, he then told me that he would be in touch and hung up the phone. 

The next day, a large rectangle box flocked with velvet and tied together with a silk ribbon arrived at our door step, delivered by hand by a pristinely dressed courier. I signed for the package and brought it inside. I placed the box on the coffee table in the living room and untied the ribbon, then slid the lid off the box. Inside was a jet black suit jacket and pants made by one of the finest designers in the world, neatly folded to perfection. Every hem was pressed flatter than a razor, the fabric felt like water as I ran my fingers across it. On top of the suit sat a small envelope with my name on it. It read:

“Congrats on year one!

She’s going to love this.

- Bruce”

I let out a chuckle after reading the note, and slid it into the breast pocket of the jacket, and replaced the lid of the box. I needed a way to hide this suit, my immediate thought was to go to the bedroom and hide the suit in there. I swung the closet doors open and pushed all of the clothes to one side, trying to desperately wedge the awkward box into the space. I was able to hide the box in the back of the closet, somehow this felt more serious than hiding my Superman suit. 

Once it was the day of the dinner, and hauled out the suit in the early morning before Lois woke up and dropped it off at the dry cleaners. Spending all day at work waiting for the phone to ring to tell me that my suit was ready to be picked up, frantically running around the street with my freshly cleaned suit on my lunch break, trying to get home with it before my break was over. No one suspected a thing, despite the fact I was a minute late for my return. It was crazy.

Work was finally over. Lois said she was getting her hair and makeup done after work, so that gave me plenty of time to freshen up and finally try on the suite. Despite all the chaos I still haven’t tried it on, it was mainly because I trusted Bruce’s intuition and I wanted it to be a surprise for myself too. 

I stepped out of the bathroom ready to change, when I heard the front door open.

“Clark, you’ve got mail,” Lois called out. 

With just a towel wrapped around my waist, I came into the living room where I found her, holding a pile of letters and newspapers in her hand. Her hair and makeup were beautiful. Her hair was put in an updo with the rest of her hair cascading down her shoulder, her makeup was elegant with a warm smoky eye and rosy lipstick.

“What is it?” I asked. 

“Your subscription to Gotham Gazette," she handed me the paper, she scoffed,  “This has to be so kind of conflict of interests, working for the Daily Planet and getting them in the mail,”

“But I like to be informed on what’s going on over there,” I replied sheepishly. 

“Jeez, you go to Gotham once and all the sudden you think you're a Gothamite,” she rolled her eyes playfully, “Go dry yourself off, you’re dripping water everywhere,” 

I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek which brought a smile to her face. I made my way back to the bedroom, folding open the paper to read the cover page of the paper. I was surprised to see Bruce on the cover, he was standing in front of the manor with Alfred beside him, in between the two of them was a little boy who looked no less than 10 years old. I knew I needed to read the article when I saw the photo. 

“BRUCE WAYNE ADOPTS SON:

After the tragic shooting at the Haly’s Circus that claimed the lives of performers, John and May Grayson, Bruce Wayne offered to adopt the now orphaned boy named Richard, who was the son of the two performers. It was reported that Wayne was in the audience when the shooting had occurred. 

‘I know first hand what it’s like to lose your parents in such a tragic way. I will make sure to give Richard all the care he needs.’ Wayne told us…”

The story brought a tear to my eye. The situation was bittersweet to me. It was sad to hear that this poor boy had to go through such a traumatic event but I was also proud of Bruce for opening himself up to this child. I knew he would take care of him and treat him like a king. 

Flipping over the newspaper and whipping away my tears, I made for the closest and pulled out the mythical suit. The towel was dropped and the suit was put on, just as I expected it fit like a glove. The suit sat on my body perfectly, contouring every curve to be as flattering as possible. I couldn’t stop staring at how the fabric caught the light, the tight weave of the material made it look as if it was shiny. I’ve never looked this good before. But the real test was to see Lois’ reaction. 

I stepped out of the bedroom and her jaw immediately dropped. I could see in her eyes, she was ready to pounce onto me, Bruce was right, she would like it I said to myself.

“How did -?” She couldn’t form a full sentence. She was speechless.

“I called in a favour from a friend,” I didn’t mind feeling smug, I knew I looked good. 

“Bruce,” she immediately knew. Lois came closer to me, our bodies now barely touching. She raised her hand to rub against my chest, feeling the suit, “That guy gives me the creeps, but he does have taste,”

She continued to rub against my chest, feeling every inch of my torso though my suit. I had to get her attention, “Ahem. There’s plenty more of that to come, we have a dinner to get to,”

She zipped away, holding up her hands like I was pointing a gun at her. She chucked nervously, “Uhh yeah, I’ll be right back,” 

She stumbled her way into the bedroom, I could hear her cheer once she closed the door which brought me so much joy. She likes the suit. It didn’t have to wait long for her to return with her in her full outfit. Her dress was a strapless maroon dream with a long flowing skirt, she wore a dainty gold necklace with a small pearl and a matching bracelet. 

“Baby, you look amazing,” I tell her, feeling the same way she felt when she saw what I was wearing.

“Not as good as you,” 

I came close to her, placing my hands on her hips, “Don’t say that, you’re stunning,”

She looked up at me and smirked, “I know,”

That cheeky little devil. I told her, “Happy Anniversary,” before I leaned down and kissed her, tasting her lipstick. What was supposed to be a small kiss turned quickly into us making out. It took so much of my power to not ruin her hair or makeup, none of my focus went to us now floating in the air. Once we realised, I brought us down and we straightened each other out, promising to continue this exchange later.