Fight Club In Gotham
Clark stares at the screen, sighing. Junior reporter. Tres glamoureuse. Oh yeah. The Planet's air conditioning is on the blink again, for the third time in two weeks. The portable fans are on full blast and everyone keeps making trips to the water cooler. Even Lois has moderated her coffee intake to 70% of her usual, swapping the triple-shot espressos for triple-shot frappuccinos. He suspects the decrease in consumption is mostly due to the fact that it takes longer to make the frappuccinos, and that makes for less trips out of the office. He enters the data and gossip she's got out of the latest source, then groans when he sees the ten spelling mistakes in the last paragraph. Something about the word 'the' and excessive heat don't really combine well. He's spelt it as 'teh' at least six of those times.
So, anyway, junior reporter. Partnered with Lois Lane, Girl Reporter Supreme and Hard-Ass with a permanent caffeine drip. She shows him the ropes, he does the scut work and occasionally gets one over on her. She sees it as perfectly fair, since she was 'saddled with the hayseed by Perry'. Still, he knows he's learning a lot. And getting paid, with the occasional byline on one of the inside pages on small stuff that's individual and the occasional credit on some of the joint stuff.
"Clark, you're free for doing a report on Friday for that Suicide Slums thing, right?" Lois asks lazily, tapping the stylus against her PDA.
"Nope. No chance."
"What?" She asks. "Smallville, what do you mean you're not doing it? I thought you were interested in that issue. What've you got, a hot lead?"
"Spending the weekend in Gotham. Fundraiser with Lex. Perry wants a report for the social column. Don't know if it'll be any good, but he says I'll be in a position to hear the interesting stuff. Also added the stuff about it being a good experience and training, which is what he said the time he sent me to deal with the night shift's coffee orders." Types a few more words.
"Being Lex Luthor's boyfriend gets you to all the best parties." Lois sniffs. He can hear the pout behind it.
"Yep." Clark grins, then confesses "If it's any consolation, Lois, I don't really like them that much."
"I feel your pain, Smallville. The champagne, the best food, getting dressed up -" She laughs. "Oh, I know, farmboy doesn't like the fine life stuff."
Clark glares at her. "Actually, it's the gossip I'm not too fond of. The upper crust is more bitchy than anything I've ever heard. It's not an atmosphere I'm comfortable in."
"Aw, poor ickle Smallville, all disillusioned by the big bad city folk."
"Lois, if you pinch my cheek, I'll... I'll..." Inspiration strikes. "I'll take all your Guccis, Manolos and your Pradas - the ones with the three month wait list that you leapfrogged - and give them to Jackie in the mail room."
"What would Jackie want with them? His feet are far too big even though he has fabulous taste."
"I'll tell him to distribute them across the country, you'll never see them again."
"You're a cruel, cruel boy, Smallville. Lex is obviously a bad influence."
"That's what my dad says."
"Listen to your father, Kent, his advice is good."
"Even the advice to date Lana back in my teens because she's a nice girl?"
Lois shudders. "Lana may be a nice girl, farmboy, but even I draw the line about self-obsession that deep. And the pink fixation is very, very disturbing."
"Something else you and Chloe share. You're sure you don't just change hair between here and Gotham?" Clark pauses. "Mind you, Chloe's better company." He ducks the Starbucks cup just in time.
Clark swallows as they step into the room. He may be dressed for it, but he's willing to bet at least a fraction of Lex's fortune that he sticks out like a sore thumb at this gathering of the rich and powerful. Resisting the urge to tug at his collar, he hisses in Lex's ear. "Don't leave me alone, please."
Lex chuckles. "You'll be fine, Clark. Just smile and nod if in doubt."
"I feel like I've got a neon sign hanging over me."
"No you don't." There's a pause as Lex casts a glittering eye over his body. "On second thoughts, you do. 'Far too tempting for his own good.' Sounds familiar."
"Lex!" Clark flushes, cursing himself for the reaction. He's known Lex - and been sleeping with him - long enough that the blushing should be under control by now. Unfortunately for his sake and what's seeming Lex's eternal delight, it hasn't gone away.
They mingle a bit, Clark attempting small talk when he feels he's not about to trip over his tongue. He keeps telling himself he can talk to these rich sophisticates, he's always been able to talk to Lex, who's up in the top tier of rich and sophisticated. However, he's now really convinced that restoring said rich and sophisticated person to life from drowning breaks the ice irrevocably. The only problem is he can't see this party suddenly being engulfed by a tidal wave anytime soon. At least not so he can just get over his tongue attempting to tie itself in knots. Not to mention that he can hear whispers about 'Lex's boy-toy.' That really doesn't help. "Darling, the word catamite does spring to mind." That one's from someone he can't see by the door. Oh god. He didn't think anyone used that particular phrase outside of Lex's overwhelming amount of Greek history books. Well, except Lionel. Lionel's used it where he knows Clark can hear it, even without the super-hearing. Except Lionel never, ever whispers and somehow it's a lot less offensive coming from him than it is from this gathering. Maybe there is something in that line 'familiarity breeds contempt' after all. He knows he's in a fairly rare position - some might say privileged, though most of Smallville would snort at that - of knowing Lionel Luthor well enough that he can brush off insults casually.
As he's fantasising about going down for the third time, someone says off to one side "Well, Lex, haven't seen you out this way for a while. How are you?"
Clark turns to see a young woman greeting Lex. She's Lex's age, maybe a little younger, and on studying her, Clark's heart sinks a little. Gorgeous, tall, brunette, fitting into this society like a glove. Exactly Lex's type.
"It's called banishment, Selina." Lex replies. Okay, missed a couple of lines of the conversation there. Lex continues. "But small-town life has proven to have a few advantages." He knows her. Clark wonders how many times he can do the irrational jealousy thing. Because Lex has a lot of exes.
Selina gives Clark a frank appraisal, then she grins, slowly. Something about her reminds Clark of a cat. "So I see. You always did have a certain amount of taste. Introduce me, Lex."
Lex smiles. "Selina Kyle, Clark Kent." Clark swallows. It's almost exactly the same smile Lex gets when someone praises his choice of car, which is kind of unnerving, but fortunately it's tempered by fondness, which the cars definitely don't get. Clark rates above the Lamborghini. Oh, great step forward in the self-esteem battle, Clark, comparing yourself to the cars. He tells himself to stop doing the ego-flattening thing to himself on such a regular basis.
"Pleased to meet you, Clark." Selina grins again. "You look fidgety."
"Um. Different crowd than I'm used to."
With introductions over, Lex goes onto the next topic. "How's Bruce?"
"Still himself." Selina replies. "Very much so." And if that wasn't a cat that got the cream smile - Clark's seen it enough times on Lex, usually in bed - Clark doesn't know what is.
"Managed to cure him of his habit of eating in the kitchen and never using the dining room yet?" Lex asks.
Someone looms up behind them. "I'm afraid that being raised by the butler pretty much ingrains that in you for life, Lex. And it's not like you can talk." Big guy. All muscle. Again, Lex's age. And so classically handsome you'd have expected him to have stepped out of a magazine. Also giving off serious looming vibes. Though the magazine bit is true. The last time Clark saw this face it had '50 most eligible bachelors' under it as a magazine headline. Bruce Wayne, the young head of Wayne Enterprises.
Though Clark's wondering why a billionaire would have all the marks this one does. Specifically, the tell-tale marks of someone who's in fights regularly along his skeleton and musculature. Thickening along the bones where they were broken and healed. Torn muscles and scars. Maybe there's one of those fight club things in Gotham, except he never heard of them using knives. Or guns. Lex has a lot of marks like that, but he heals fast, and doesn't scar easily. One of the few benign meteor mutations of Smallville residents. Aside from the hair loss, but Clark counts that one as good; Lex wouldn't be half as striking with hair; attractive, yes, but not striking. And he's pretty sure Gotham billionaires don't get involved in the Smallville craziness that caused Lex's marks.
Lex and Bruce have drifted off. From what he can hear, they're talking business.
Clark's left alone with Selina. "So... um... you and Lex used to be -"
"Me and Lex?" Selina chuckles. "Oh no. Bruce and Lex."
"Lex slept with Bruce?" Clark asks, slightly shocked. Not about the bisexuality thing, Lex is pretty much omnisexual, let alone bisexual, but Bruce and him just wasn't an image that sprang easily to mind.
"Why not? He's sleeping with you, isn't he?" Selina replies.
"I, uh, just didn't think Lex was Bruce's type."
Another chuckles. "Oh, that's the way you meant it. No, Bruce has been known to go to the male side in his time. He and Lex ended before Lex moved to Smallville, though, so you can leave aside the jealousy."
Clark flushes and denies it. "I wasn't jealous." Selina just smirks and sips on her champagne.
"Clark, this is really bugging me." Chloe says over the sound of the tv Clark can hear in the background. Gotham Knights won last night, apparently.
"What is it this time?"
"Duh, Batman of course! How am I supposed to track down a guy dressed as a bat?"
"Well, I could suggest hanging around costume shops, but you could always become criminally psychotic. That'd get his attention immediately."
"Ha-ha, Mr. Kent, don't give up your day job. Costume shops indeed. And I'm really not into being beaten up, thankyou."
"You're the one who does ju-jitsu."
"That's self-defence. It's different."
Clark scratches his shoulder. "What're you trying to figure out, his identity?"
"Maybe. Even though it's not like he'll be anyone I'll recognise. The mask just makes me really curious."
"Which is why I didn't bother."
"Yeah, yeah, smartass with the souped-up subtle image inducer."
"I don't have an image inducer. They're too busy staring at my chest and package to notice my face."
"I'm trying to have faith that the average citizen and journalist isn't that blind. Let me believe in the image inducer to keep my sanity." She pauses. The slurping sound indicates coffee drinking on her end. "You know Lois wouldn't mind fucking him, don't you?"
Clark sighs. "Chloe, she's my partner and she's got a motormouth. How could I not? Fortunately she still rates me below the celebrity of the week. Currently Superman is fifth."
"Who's top this week?"
"Michael Shanks."
"Nice taste."
"Hey, she likes me. Isn't that proof of taste?" Chloe snorts in response. Clark grumbles. "You used to like me."
"Teen hormone-induced delirium. Besides, the guy Lois likes has blue eyes, not green eyes, and a jaw more like Ben Affleck's than yours."
"At least it's not like that guy from Starship Troopers. Was it you or Pete that said you could measure right angles accurately from his jaw?"
"Pete." Chloe bites down on what sounds like a cookie. "So how far along is that Lukardi court case getting? I heard they're dragging it out as much as possible."
Clark sighs. "I just wish it was as easy as catch, put in jail, locked away. I mean, I caught him already. I want one of your cookies."
"Lawyers, Clark, lawyers." Chloe sympathises. "And you wouldn't like them."
"Why not?"
"They're low fat."
"Next you'll be telling me you'll be experimenting with decaf."
"Wash your mouth out with soap, young man." Chloe says. "I'm only eating them because I picked them up by accident at the store and I need cookies now. I'm desperate."
On a rooftop in Gotham. A voice behind him makes Clark turn. "No Luthor sponsorship logo?" Batman asks.
It's the first time they've met in person, costumed. Clark blinks slightly in the low light afforded by the neon of Gotham at night. Batman is... seriously scary in person. Dark, much darker than Bruce Wayne, and you couldn't get much further from Batman than Bruce's slightly foppish persona. Same skeleton and musculature, but the voice and body language are very, very different. They're the kind that're designed to send 'please don't hurt me' vibes down the spine of an ordinary person. Clark has to tell himself that he's invulnerable to get his spine back under control. Several times.
Clark swallows, regaining his voice. "My boyfriend only just tolerates this. He thinks I'm an adrenalin junkie for doing it. What's your excuse?"
"I have to." Batman replies. You really can't think of him as Bruce like this. It's like they're two different people.
Clark folds his arms to give himself a bit more confidence. "When we first met, I thought you were in a fight club. This is taking ennui a bit too far for most rich kid's tastes, huh?"
"There's no ennui involved." Batman says, with utter conviction. "What are you doing on my turf?"
"Looking for a murderer." Clarks looks at him. "Your turf?"
"Gotham is mine." The tone brooks no argument. Though Clark does remember from searches he and Chloe did once, that is pretty close to the truth. The Wayne family - sole survivor, Bruce Wayne, if you discount the adopted son and the rather big possibility that Selina holds for the future - owns most of the land Gotham City's built on, as well as a fair proportion of the land on its outskirts. Guess it's an advantage to your ancestors moving here pretty soon after the settlement started. Clark's not sure if he ever really thinks of Metropolis as 'his', as the move from Smallville wasn't that long ago, and he knows if he ever wanted to claim it on any level, he'd have to fight the Luthors for it. Luthors pretty much define the possessive-obsessive genetic trait. He doesn't know if it's a Wayne thing, this possessive arrogance, or just a Bruce thing. But he's been dealing with Luthors for years, so he knows how obstinate those with it are.
Clark nods slightly, trying to ignore the wrinkle of fabric just above his waist that's just now decided to bug him, where he didn't tuck his shirt in properly. Taking now to adjust it really wouldn't look good. Especially when he's trying to give off the 'cool, calm and collected' vibe. Looking like some dumb kid in front of Batman's really not the thing you want to do to keep any sort of reputation in the superhero community. That's in spite of the fact that it's well known he tends to view most of them as half-bright amateurs. Still, the dumb kid thing's at the forefront of his mind. "Okay, not disputing that. Now. But I need to find this murderer so he can be brought to justice."
"Do you have any idea who it is?" Batman asks.
"Well, um, I wouldn't be here if I didn't know who... Yes. Richard Lukardi." Oh, great one, Clark, trip over your own tongue. Great way to give off the competent vibe.
Fortunately, Batman just nods. "One of the Penguin's enforcers. It shouldn't take long to find him."
"Um. Okay. Which way?"
Clark gets a chilling look in return. "I can find him far faster than you can."
"Come on, it's my case, surely you can use some help."
"I find metahumans tend to get in the way."
"You could at least use the x-ray vision and hearing. And I'm fast. Really, really fast." Clark argues, trying to keep the petulant tone out of his voice. He's not petulant, but arguing with Batman appears to be a bit futile.
Batman raises an eyebrow behind the cowl. "If I wanted fast I'd call the Flash." He pauses. "I suppose you might be of some use. Follow me, and leave any showboating you feel the need for at home."
"I don't showboat." Clark mutters as he follows the dark shape. A guy who dresses up as a bat and likes appearing from the shadows tells him to stop showboating.
He stands off to one side, not interfering - rather, acting as a blockage to stop anyone escaping - as Batman extracts information from people in alleys and bars by a combination of breaking bones and scaring the shit out of them. Clark winces as a man's ribs break as he's hurled over the bar and hits the wall of bottles behind it. The tinkle of glass shards falling mingles with the groans of the incapacitated. Clark lifts up slightly to let some spilled beer pass beneath his feet.
Batman picks up one of the groaners and states "I repeat : Richard Lukardi."
"He-he'll kill me."
"That is fast. Breaking every single one of your bones is slow. And will take months to recover from." Batman hisses. "Is it worth it?"
"Oh, and there's me." Clark states, serious Superman demeanour and voice firmly in place. Yet another weapon in the distracting people from the fact that it's Clark Kent in the outfit plan. "Don't forget what focussed down to the millimeter bursts of heat can do to the human body." He smiles coolly, the one stolen from Lex when he's dropping board members at fifty paces.
Batman drops his tone another couple of degrees. "Lukardi."
The man swallows, glancing towards Clark. Clark uses one of Lionel's grins this time. 'I've just got rid of fifteen hundred jobs, I'm late for a hair appointment, have a nice day.' Distracted, god-like, all there to remind the subject that as far as you're concerned, you don't regard them as anything more than a piece of lint to brush off your sleeve. The man swallows again, turns back to Batman and spills. Fast. Clark smirks to himself. He'll say this for the Luthor family - they produce great weapons of fear when it comes to facial expressions.
When they step out of the bar, and Clark grabs Batman under the armpits to fly them up, Batman states "That was unnecessary."
"But fun." Clark says. "C'mon, you woud've had to do at least three more threats if I wasn't there with my two cents."
Batman doesn't say anything else on the subject. Maybe this is what the Bat-form of sulking is like.
Lukardi gets taken down and wrapped up nicely for transportation to Metropolis, something Clark is personally going to oversee. He's not willing to trust to a van that it's possible to break out of, no matter how slim the chances.
"So. Um. I could say don't be a stranger next time you're in Metropolis, but..." Clark says. "Truce?"
"Possibly." Batman says. He's going for the 'cape all-encompassing' look. "Though I would prefer it if you'd keep your appearances in Gotham down to civilian clothing. I don't appreciate meta-humans in my city."
"Got it, got it, heard you the first time." Clark sighs. "You've got my number if you need me."
Batman inclines his head. "And Lex has mine. Goodbye." Okay, that was just a little bit pointed. So not fond of protracted farewells.
Clark nods, lifting off. "Bye." When he looks back, Batman's disappeared into the shadows. Clark shakes his head and goes down to accompany Lukardi to Metropolis.