[Justice League] Third Strike
a/n: The last of the Palooza prompts. Go me! Enjoy!
Title: Third Strike
Universe: Justice League AU, Numerology 'Verse
Characters: Superman, Batman
Rating: K+
Description: Sequel to First Encounter and Second Meeting. Batman exercises restraint while Superman doesn't know the meaning of 'lost cause'.
Written for mistress_pirate's palooza prompt of Superman/Batman "I knew you were trouble"
Batman is... annoyed.
No. Annoyed is too soft a term to describe the sheer frustrated aggravation that permeates every inch of his existence at the moment.
There's a tic developing in his left brow. It's a first warning of the impending approach of his newest and most vile archnemesis.
Grudgingly, Batman insists, the alien is persistent. And tenacious. He supposes they, meaning the planet at large, should all be grateful he hasn't aimed that determination toward villainous pursuits.
Then again, Batman can't help but recall the tale of two kidnappers and their obnoxious quarry. It bears a certain resemblance to this very situation.
“Do you ever sleep?”
It is snowing. It is mid-winter in Gotham, the snow coming down in thick, concealing sheets to blanket the ground in another foot of precipitation. It is bitterly cold, even through the Kevlar, and there is no moon. All the better to keep hidden and Batman has found the best shadows to conceal himself.
“You must have a job.”
However, his babbling admirer wouldn't know the meaning of the word subtlety if it rose up and nipped him in the cape. Every action he takes his blunt force trauma to the senses.
“Unless, of course, you're independently wealthy. Which isn't impossible.”
Batman twitches.
Maybe if he ignores the Boy Scout long enough, Superman will get bored and leave. Maybe if he stands still enough, he will be mistaken for a roof gargoyle and Superman will go do something important.
“The last time I saw snow this heavy was before I moved to Metropolis. Do your criminals actually come out in this weather?”
Crime is never convenient. Of course, Mr. Super Perfect over there wouldn't understand. He's faster than a speeding bullet but glacial on the uptake.
Doesn't he have a city to protect? Surely Lois Lane is poking her nose into Lex Luthor's business and asking for trouble? Isn't there a tall building Superman can go leap?
No. Instead he's here, happily traipsing on Batman's last nerve.
“It's a different class of criminal wreaking havoc these days. We've found that we can do more, help more, by working together.”
He half-imagines that part of Superman's income must be from participating in those constant public service announcements. He expects any moment for Superman to start extolling on the virtues of singing Kumbaya.
He contemplates the tiny sliver of Kryptonite in its lead-lined jar in his pouch.
Would that be too drastic?
Batman hunches his shoulders, keeping his gaze locked on the museum below. The exhibit tomorrow is sure to attract attention of all kinds, good and bad. And tonight is the perfect night for some minor villain to take the bit, snowstorm or no.
“You know,” Superman says, continuing his one-sided conversation, completely ignoring the fact Batman has not responded this time or any other time Superman stopped by for a chat. “The offer is still open. I think you would be a great addition to the Justice League.”
Batman still wants to know who came up with that inspiring moniker.
Still... this again?
Superman has extended that offer no less than thirty-seven times.
And Batman has rejected him firmly each and every time. He is not a team player. He does not work with others.
What makes Superman think this instance will be any different?
There. Movement on the ground.
Batman shifts to high alert. He leans forward, Superman forgotten. Two, no three, shapes in the alley, approaching a side door. It's a service entrance. There's a glint of metal in the streetlight. Keys?
It's always an inside job. Corruption in Gotham is slow to purge, harder to battle than outright thievery, mayhem, and murder.
“Is that what you were waiting for?” Superman asks, right next to Batman's ear. “Well then, give me a moment.”
Before Batman can protest, Superman is gone in a red-blue blur. Batman watches as he bumrushes the three would-be thieves, re-locks the door, then scruffs the three miscreants.
He returns in less than ten seconds with two unconscious law breakers and one soon-to-be-ex employee of the Gotham Museum.
Superman's grinning like a 100-watt bulb, presenting his criminals to Batman like a cat lovingly bringing it's newest kill to it's owners doorstep.
“Here,” he says, dumping them at Batman's feet and dusting off his hands. “Interrogate away.”
Is he serious?
Batman stares at Superman.
The Boy Scout is stupidly proud of himself. Yes, he's serious.
Batman's eyes narrow. He doesn't know whether to be amused or further annoyed. He thinks back on all the aggravation of the past few months.
Yes, he would rather be annoyed.
The twitch invades his eyebrow again, and goes further still, wracking him from the tip of his cowl to the steel-plated toe of his boot. He contemplates the Kryptonite.
No, still too drastic.
Batman rises to his full height, which doesn't quite match the Man of Steel who never plants his feet on solid ground. A myriad of responses, none of them polite, seethe on the tip of the Dark Knight's tongue.
He says none of them. He breathes in, out, and in again.
Batman turns on a heel and walks away. No need to pull out a grapple-gun; the Batmobile is parked in an alley just below, hidden by some cutting edge hologram technology.
“Um, Batman?”
There is honest confusion in Superman's tone.
He pauses, but doesn't look back. “I work alone,” Batman says, nearly a growl, and leaps over the edge of the roof. Slightly dramatic but that's part of the whole Dark Knight mystique.
Besides, he's cold, he's tired, and he's reached his quota of Superman today.
He had known Superman was going to be trouble from the first time the primary colored wonder flew into Gotham. But damn it all, Batman hadn't known it would be quite this much.
***
a/n: It's not quite up to the standard to the prequels but as soon as I write the fourth one, hopefully that will improve. I have ideas for the fourth and fifth and we'll see where it goes from there. :)
Feedback is welcome and appreciated.
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/222045.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
Title: Third Strike
Universe: Justice League AU, Numerology 'Verse
Characters: Superman, Batman
Rating: K+
Description: Sequel to First Encounter and Second Meeting. Batman exercises restraint while Superman doesn't know the meaning of 'lost cause'.
Written for mistress_pirate's palooza prompt of Superman/Batman "I knew you were trouble"
Batman is... annoyed.
No. Annoyed is too soft a term to describe the sheer frustrated aggravation that permeates every inch of his existence at the moment.
There's a tic developing in his left brow. It's a first warning of the impending approach of his newest and most vile archnemesis.
Grudgingly, Batman insists, the alien is persistent. And tenacious. He supposes they, meaning the planet at large, should all be grateful he hasn't aimed that determination toward villainous pursuits.
Then again, Batman can't help but recall the tale of two kidnappers and their obnoxious quarry. It bears a certain resemblance to this very situation.
“Do you ever sleep?”
It is snowing. It is mid-winter in Gotham, the snow coming down in thick, concealing sheets to blanket the ground in another foot of precipitation. It is bitterly cold, even through the Kevlar, and there is no moon. All the better to keep hidden and Batman has found the best shadows to conceal himself.
“You must have a job.”
However, his babbling admirer wouldn't know the meaning of the word subtlety if it rose up and nipped him in the cape. Every action he takes his blunt force trauma to the senses.
“Unless, of course, you're independently wealthy. Which isn't impossible.”
Batman twitches.
Maybe if he ignores the Boy Scout long enough, Superman will get bored and leave. Maybe if he stands still enough, he will be mistaken for a roof gargoyle and Superman will go do something important.
“The last time I saw snow this heavy was before I moved to Metropolis. Do your criminals actually come out in this weather?”
Crime is never convenient. Of course, Mr. Super Perfect over there wouldn't understand. He's faster than a speeding bullet but glacial on the uptake.
Doesn't he have a city to protect? Surely Lois Lane is poking her nose into Lex Luthor's business and asking for trouble? Isn't there a tall building Superman can go leap?
No. Instead he's here, happily traipsing on Batman's last nerve.
“It's a different class of criminal wreaking havoc these days. We've found that we can do more, help more, by working together.”
He half-imagines that part of Superman's income must be from participating in those constant public service announcements. He expects any moment for Superman to start extolling on the virtues of singing Kumbaya.
He contemplates the tiny sliver of Kryptonite in its lead-lined jar in his pouch.
Would that be too drastic?
Batman hunches his shoulders, keeping his gaze locked on the museum below. The exhibit tomorrow is sure to attract attention of all kinds, good and bad. And tonight is the perfect night for some minor villain to take the bit, snowstorm or no.
“You know,” Superman says, continuing his one-sided conversation, completely ignoring the fact Batman has not responded this time or any other time Superman stopped by for a chat. “The offer is still open. I think you would be a great addition to the Justice League.”
Batman still wants to know who came up with that inspiring moniker.
Still... this again?
Superman has extended that offer no less than thirty-seven times.
And Batman has rejected him firmly each and every time. He is not a team player. He does not work with others.
What makes Superman think this instance will be any different?
There. Movement on the ground.
Batman shifts to high alert. He leans forward, Superman forgotten. Two, no three, shapes in the alley, approaching a side door. It's a service entrance. There's a glint of metal in the streetlight. Keys?
It's always an inside job. Corruption in Gotham is slow to purge, harder to battle than outright thievery, mayhem, and murder.
“Is that what you were waiting for?” Superman asks, right next to Batman's ear. “Well then, give me a moment.”
Before Batman can protest, Superman is gone in a red-blue blur. Batman watches as he bumrushes the three would-be thieves, re-locks the door, then scruffs the three miscreants.
He returns in less than ten seconds with two unconscious law breakers and one soon-to-be-ex employee of the Gotham Museum.
Superman's grinning like a 100-watt bulb, presenting his criminals to Batman like a cat lovingly bringing it's newest kill to it's owners doorstep.
“Here,” he says, dumping them at Batman's feet and dusting off his hands. “Interrogate away.”
Is he serious?
Batman stares at Superman.
The Boy Scout is stupidly proud of himself. Yes, he's serious.
Batman's eyes narrow. He doesn't know whether to be amused or further annoyed. He thinks back on all the aggravation of the past few months.
Yes, he would rather be annoyed.
The twitch invades his eyebrow again, and goes further still, wracking him from the tip of his cowl to the steel-plated toe of his boot. He contemplates the Kryptonite.
No, still too drastic.
Batman rises to his full height, which doesn't quite match the Man of Steel who never plants his feet on solid ground. A myriad of responses, none of them polite, seethe on the tip of the Dark Knight's tongue.
He says none of them. He breathes in, out, and in again.
Batman turns on a heel and walks away. No need to pull out a grapple-gun; the Batmobile is parked in an alley just below, hidden by some cutting edge hologram technology.
“Um, Batman?”
There is honest confusion in Superman's tone.
He pauses, but doesn't look back. “I work alone,” Batman says, nearly a growl, and leaps over the edge of the roof. Slightly dramatic but that's part of the whole Dark Knight mystique.
Besides, he's cold, he's tired, and he's reached his quota of Superman today.
He had known Superman was going to be trouble from the first time the primary colored wonder flew into Gotham. But damn it all, Batman hadn't known it would be quite this much.
***
a/n: It's not quite up to the standard to the prequels but as soon as I write the fourth one, hopefully that will improve. I have ideas for the fourth and fifth and we'll see where it goes from there. :)
Feedback is welcome and appreciated.
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/222045.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.