Heroes of the Squared Circle 69: Do You Bleed?
Title: Do You Bleed?
Relationship: Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Bea, Tora
Continuity: Heroes of the Squared Circle, a DC/pro wrestling fusion.
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count 2300
Summary: Clark and Bruce plan out promos for their feud, hit a roadblock, and drive right over it.
Note: Some of the dialogue from the promos is taken from The Dark Knight and Dawn of Justice.
Bobby Heenan, as tag team partners Shawn Michaels and Marty Jannetty shake hands: See, one without the other isn't any good.
[Michaels superkicks Jannetty]
Heenan, instantly: Oh, I knew he was going to do that. I just knew he was going to do that. He don't need Jannetty.
Beatriz da Costa threw her arms around Bruce and kissed him soundly on the cheek. Tora Olafsdotter stood back, but her smile for both Clark and Bruce was fond and friendly. In their civilian clothes, with their hair undyed, almost no one would have recognized them as Fire and Ice, the former women’s tag team champions of the JLI.
“Quite the pay-per-view you two put on last night,” Bea said, punching Bruce lightly on the shoulder. “Betrayal! Remorse! High drama!”
“Is the Dark Knight turning heel?” Tora asked as the waitress handed her a glass of white wine.
“Probably not fully,” Bruce said.
“Though God knows he’ll try,” Clark sighed.
“And let me guess,” said Bea with a smirk. “We’ll get to see a full-blown feud between him and Superman.” She winked at Clark.
“The message boards have been buzzing,” Tora said. “They’ve been begging for a feud between you two for years.”
“Friendship is boring,” Bea drawled, clearly quoting someone from one of those message boards. She lifted her glass of wine and tossed half of it down with relish.
“And here I thought it was magic,” Tora said with a sideways smile at Bea.
“Friendship may be magic,” Clark said, “But a feud is a story.”
“And one you get to work on together,” Bea said, nodding. “Oh, we get it. When we were still wrestling, the best times were when we were against each other, weren’t they?” She smiled at Tora. “Planning the matches, coming up with ways to pop the crowd more every time…”
“...Putting our lives in each other’s hands over and over,” Tora said, “Soaking up the cheers and boos together, like two sides of a coin, light and dark, day and night. Fire and Ice.”
“And speaking of ‘when we were wrestling,’” Bruce said, leaning forward.
Tora laughed. “What a smooth transition, Bruce! And Guy’s been in touch with me, so I have some idea of where you’re going with this, you clever, devious boy. But I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong pair of lady wrestlers.”
“We are D--O--N--E, done,” Bea said, waving her finger in the air to go with the spelled word. “No more days on the road, no more dealing with shitty promoters, no more fending off skeevy fans…”
“...no more wrestling,” said Bruce, and Clark watched the sadness flicker on their faces for a moment.
Tora ran a finger around the rim of her wine glass, looking pensive. “It’s not like we don’t miss it,” she said. “But we have nice stable lives now. Bea’s working at the post office, I’m teaching Norwegian here and there--”
“--What if we could offer you stable lives and a chance to be part of the business?” Clark said.
Bea and Tora looked at each other for a long moment. Then they looked back at Clark.
“We’re listening,” said Bea.
Superman stood in the center of the ring, mic in hand, gazing sorrowfully at the crowd. He had an impressive shiner from the night before.
“Last night Wonder Woman lost her match to Cheetah,” he said. “Last night Green Lantern lost his match to Sinestro. Last night Flash lost his match to Captain Cold. And I lost my match to Metallo.” With the name of each heel, the boos from the audience grew louder. “Last night the Justice League lost a lot,” Superman went on. “But I’m afraid the most important thing we lost was...our faith in our teammate.”
The audience sighed and murmured. Superman raised his voice, gesturing toward the back. “Dark Knight! We need to talk!”
There was a long silence. Then the Dark Knight’s moody music filled the arena and his cowled form appeared at the top of the ramp. He looked at Superman in the ring for a moment, then slowly stalked down the ramp to enter the ring and stand in front of him. There were a lot of boos, Clark noted. But there were also a fair amount of cheers, especially young male voices. Smarks loved their antiheroes.
Bruce would be so annoyed about that later, Clark thought, and had to repress a grin.
“So,” the Dark Knight said. “You’ve decided to summon me for your judgment? Like you’re some kind of god, chastising from on high?”
“I understand--” Superman started. His voice cracked and he had to start again. “Look, I understand why you kept plans for taking me down. I asked you to. I don’t hold that against you.”
“That’s generous of you,” the Dark Knight sneered, though his eyes had flickered.
“But the others-- They didn’t ask for that. They deserved your trust. At the very least, they deserved to have you keep those plans somewhere a little more secure than a notebook in your locker, for God’s sake!”
There was a slight ripple of laughter from the audience at this lampshading of the more obviously ridiculous plot hole in the storyline. The laughter faded quickly, however, as Batman spoke again, his voice laced with contempt.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was illegal to think about how I’d win if I were ever booked to fight against my teammates. You're taking this far too personally, Kal. Believe me, it was a sheerly strategic decision. There was nothing personal about it.”
The cameras caught Superman’s throat working as he swallowed. “I’m afraid that the other members of the League have asked me to inform you that you are--”
“Oh, I’m excommunicated, how terrible!” Batman yelled in a ringing voice. “As if I’d want to be part of your little clique of smug hypocrites!”
“The Justice League has been dissolved,” Superman said, and the words fell heavy and final into the suddenly-silent arena. “And as its last act, the members have asked me to challenge you to a match.” He looked at Batman, almost pleading. “Unless you apologize.”
Please apologize, his expression begged as the cameras zoomed in for a loving close-up. Apologize and everything can go back to what it was. It doesn’t have to end this way.
The crowd waited, hushed, for the Dark Knight’s response as he stood in the ring in front of Superman, clearly struggling with strong emotions.
Then he turned his back abruptly on his tag partner--his former tag partner, it appeared--and strode out of the arena without giving an answer.
“Oh, come on,” Bruce said, exasperated. “You call that a punch? Stop being so careful.”
“Geez, Bruce,” said Clark, “You want me to knock your teeth out or something?”
“Will it be a great moment? Then maybe.” Clark rolled his eyes. “Look,” Bruce said, “The whole point of working with someone you trust completely is that you can work really snug, because you both know that there won’t be any hard feelings if someone gets stiffed. I’ll post pictures of my bruises on Twitter and brag about how tough I am, you can respond saying there’s more where that came from, it’s gold.”
Clark shrugged and stepped forward, jabbing and throwing forearms at Bruce while Bruce blocked “desperately.” One of them connected with a solid thunk against Bruce’s cheekbone, and Bruce said “Oof” with satisfaction.
“Happy?” said Clark.
“Rapturous,” Bruce said, leaning in to kiss him.
“Don’t stop now, Superman.” Bruce grinned at him, his voice all grit and grime as he went on: “The night is young, and I have so much planned for you.”
“Bruce…”
Bruce ignored Clark’s look as he lunged forward, catching him in a hip toss and throwing him to the floor of the practice ring. “It’s past time you learned what it means--to be a man.”
Clark couldn’t help it, he started to giggle, covering his face with his hands.
Bruce glared down at him and said in pure Batman-voice, “Giggling is unbecoming to a superhero.”
“I’m sorry,” wheezed Clark. “It’s just so--so--”
Bruce narrowed his eyes and clenched one fist dramatically in front of him. “I want you to remember, Kal--in your most private moments,--the feel of my hand on your throat.” Then he dropped his melodramatic stance and grinned just a touch sheepishly. “So you’re saying that might be a little much?”
“Maybe just a little,” Clark managed to gasp. “You might want to dial it back a little when we get to the actual match.”
“Okay, but I think we’ve got it perfectly calibrated for our promo this week,” said Bruce. “I’m a ball of seething resentment disguised as righteousness, you’ve got the whole more-in-sorrow-than-in-anger thing going on… It’s going to crackle. Run through the end again with me.” He brought up his shoulders and drew down his eyebrows into a scowl, dropping into Dark Knight persona like tossing on a cape as Clark threw back his shoulders and squared his jaw.
The Dark Knight pointed at Superman. “You’re arrogant and mad with power, and I’ll do anything in my power to stop you. Anything, do you hear me?”
Superman shook his head. “I don’t believe you. I’m not even sure you believe yourself. We’re friends, Batman.”
“I’m the Dark Knight,” Bruce rasped. “And I’m not sure we were ever friends. Don’t test my resolve or my determination, Kal.” His voice lowered even further into an ominous growl. “I don’t think you’d like the results.”
Without transition, the Dark Knight was Bruce again, suddenly all quicksilver intelligence and energy. “It’s great,” Bruce announced. “It’s totally in-character for both Superman and Batman, but it’ll make everyone see their characters and their relationship in a new light, leading up to our first fight in three weeks--oh, the buildup is going to be so good.”
What do you mean, our backstage promo didn’t get aired?” Bruce demanded of Mercy Graves a few days later. “It was a great promo!”
“There wasn’t time to put it on the air,” said Mercy. “We put it up on Youtube, though.”
“How can we build to our match without promos? It’s where all the rising action is!” Bruce looked like he wanted to punch something. “Damn it, tell Lex we need time in front of an audience, where we can talk to each other, make the psychology more clear--”
“Mr. Luthor says that if you’re the geniuses you claim to be, you’ll figure out something,” Mercy said, stone-faced.
“He’s burying our angle,” Bruce said when she left. “We finally get an angle together, and that bastard is burying it!”
“I suppose we couldn’t expect much else,” said Clark. “I mean, he’s got to suspect we don’t have his best interests at heart.”
“But...our angle!” Bruce looked almost comically forlorn. “I’ve waited so long to finally be in a feud with you, and now it’s just going to fizzle.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Clark said, looking at his phone. “Check this out.”
He held the phone up so Bruce could see the Youtube page for the promo the two of them had cut--specifically so Bruce could see the number of hits and likes.
When he pulled the phone down and could see Bruce’s face again, Bruce was smiling.
“I’ve got an idea,” said Bruce.
Clark felt a smile tugging at his mouth. “I had a feeling you would.”
The “SupermanVBatman” Youtube channel quickly became one of the most popular wrestling-related channels out there. The videos managed to be dramatic but have wry flashes of humor where it was clear the wrestlers involved were aware this was all slightly ridiculous. Batman and Superman sent each other mocking challenges and training montages, other wrestlers were interviewed about who their preferences were to win, even fan-made videos were sometimes featured. Without any mentioning on the DCW shows, spread only by word of mouth, the videos started racking up astonishing hit counts, and Clark watched Bruce’s rage morph into glee.
Superman and Batman didn’t interact at shows at all, but the crowds started chanting “Man of Steel!” at Batman’s matches with other wrestlers, often causing Batman to break off and rage at the sheep in the crowd who would bow down to a false god like Superman. Clark got more and more fanmail and supportive tweets looking forward to their match (and of course a fair number explaining to him why he was stupid and the Dark Knight totally rocked and was awesome. He smiled and forwarded those to Bruce, knowing it would annoy him).
Now the Dark Knight addressed the camera in one of his final videos before their match, his voice rasping and grim: “And so we meet on Sunday at last. As it was always meant to be--the two of us against each other in a battle for ultimate supremacy.” Batman lifted his chin in challenge. “Superman, you never understood how normal mortals feel. How they live. How they suffer. You, an alien from beyond the stars, untouchable. Inviolable.”
The eyes behind the cowl narrowed to merciless slits. “Do you bleed?” Batman snarled.
He waited a beat, then finished:
“You will.”
Clark managed to not snort out loud until he made the sure the camera was turned off.
Relationship: Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Bea, Tora
Continuity: Heroes of the Squared Circle, a DC/pro wrestling fusion.
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count 2300
Summary: Clark and Bruce plan out promos for their feud, hit a roadblock, and drive right over it.
Note: Some of the dialogue from the promos is taken from The Dark Knight and Dawn of Justice.
Bobby Heenan, as tag team partners Shawn Michaels and Marty Jannetty shake hands: See, one without the other isn't any good.
[Michaels superkicks Jannetty]
Heenan, instantly: Oh, I knew he was going to do that. I just knew he was going to do that. He don't need Jannetty.
Beatriz da Costa threw her arms around Bruce and kissed him soundly on the cheek. Tora Olafsdotter stood back, but her smile for both Clark and Bruce was fond and friendly. In their civilian clothes, with their hair undyed, almost no one would have recognized them as Fire and Ice, the former women’s tag team champions of the JLI.
“Quite the pay-per-view you two put on last night,” Bea said, punching Bruce lightly on the shoulder. “Betrayal! Remorse! High drama!”
“Is the Dark Knight turning heel?” Tora asked as the waitress handed her a glass of white wine.
“Probably not fully,” Bruce said.
“Though God knows he’ll try,” Clark sighed.
“And let me guess,” said Bea with a smirk. “We’ll get to see a full-blown feud between him and Superman.” She winked at Clark.
“The message boards have been buzzing,” Tora said. “They’ve been begging for a feud between you two for years.”
“Friendship is boring,” Bea drawled, clearly quoting someone from one of those message boards. She lifted her glass of wine and tossed half of it down with relish.
“And here I thought it was magic,” Tora said with a sideways smile at Bea.
“Friendship may be magic,” Clark said, “But a feud is a story.”
“And one you get to work on together,” Bea said, nodding. “Oh, we get it. When we were still wrestling, the best times were when we were against each other, weren’t they?” She smiled at Tora. “Planning the matches, coming up with ways to pop the crowd more every time…”
“...Putting our lives in each other’s hands over and over,” Tora said, “Soaking up the cheers and boos together, like two sides of a coin, light and dark, day and night. Fire and Ice.”
“And speaking of ‘when we were wrestling,’” Bruce said, leaning forward.
Tora laughed. “What a smooth transition, Bruce! And Guy’s been in touch with me, so I have some idea of where you’re going with this, you clever, devious boy. But I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong pair of lady wrestlers.”
“We are D--O--N--E, done,” Bea said, waving her finger in the air to go with the spelled word. “No more days on the road, no more dealing with shitty promoters, no more fending off skeevy fans…”
“...no more wrestling,” said Bruce, and Clark watched the sadness flicker on their faces for a moment.
Tora ran a finger around the rim of her wine glass, looking pensive. “It’s not like we don’t miss it,” she said. “But we have nice stable lives now. Bea’s working at the post office, I’m teaching Norwegian here and there--”
“--What if we could offer you stable lives and a chance to be part of the business?” Clark said.
Bea and Tora looked at each other for a long moment. Then they looked back at Clark.
“We’re listening,” said Bea.
Superman stood in the center of the ring, mic in hand, gazing sorrowfully at the crowd. He had an impressive shiner from the night before.
“Last night Wonder Woman lost her match to Cheetah,” he said. “Last night Green Lantern lost his match to Sinestro. Last night Flash lost his match to Captain Cold. And I lost my match to Metallo.” With the name of each heel, the boos from the audience grew louder. “Last night the Justice League lost a lot,” Superman went on. “But I’m afraid the most important thing we lost was...our faith in our teammate.”
The audience sighed and murmured. Superman raised his voice, gesturing toward the back. “Dark Knight! We need to talk!”
There was a long silence. Then the Dark Knight’s moody music filled the arena and his cowled form appeared at the top of the ramp. He looked at Superman in the ring for a moment, then slowly stalked down the ramp to enter the ring and stand in front of him. There were a lot of boos, Clark noted. But there were also a fair amount of cheers, especially young male voices. Smarks loved their antiheroes.
Bruce would be so annoyed about that later, Clark thought, and had to repress a grin.
“So,” the Dark Knight said. “You’ve decided to summon me for your judgment? Like you’re some kind of god, chastising from on high?”
“I understand--” Superman started. His voice cracked and he had to start again. “Look, I understand why you kept plans for taking me down. I asked you to. I don’t hold that against you.”
“That’s generous of you,” the Dark Knight sneered, though his eyes had flickered.
“But the others-- They didn’t ask for that. They deserved your trust. At the very least, they deserved to have you keep those plans somewhere a little more secure than a notebook in your locker, for God’s sake!”
There was a slight ripple of laughter from the audience at this lampshading of the more obviously ridiculous plot hole in the storyline. The laughter faded quickly, however, as Batman spoke again, his voice laced with contempt.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was illegal to think about how I’d win if I were ever booked to fight against my teammates. You're taking this far too personally, Kal. Believe me, it was a sheerly strategic decision. There was nothing personal about it.”
The cameras caught Superman’s throat working as he swallowed. “I’m afraid that the other members of the League have asked me to inform you that you are--”
“Oh, I’m excommunicated, how terrible!” Batman yelled in a ringing voice. “As if I’d want to be part of your little clique of smug hypocrites!”
“The Justice League has been dissolved,” Superman said, and the words fell heavy and final into the suddenly-silent arena. “And as its last act, the members have asked me to challenge you to a match.” He looked at Batman, almost pleading. “Unless you apologize.”
Please apologize, his expression begged as the cameras zoomed in for a loving close-up. Apologize and everything can go back to what it was. It doesn’t have to end this way.
The crowd waited, hushed, for the Dark Knight’s response as he stood in the ring in front of Superman, clearly struggling with strong emotions.
Then he turned his back abruptly on his tag partner--his former tag partner, it appeared--and strode out of the arena without giving an answer.
“Oh, come on,” Bruce said, exasperated. “You call that a punch? Stop being so careful.”
“Geez, Bruce,” said Clark, “You want me to knock your teeth out or something?”
“Will it be a great moment? Then maybe.” Clark rolled his eyes. “Look,” Bruce said, “The whole point of working with someone you trust completely is that you can work really snug, because you both know that there won’t be any hard feelings if someone gets stiffed. I’ll post pictures of my bruises on Twitter and brag about how tough I am, you can respond saying there’s more where that came from, it’s gold.”
Clark shrugged and stepped forward, jabbing and throwing forearms at Bruce while Bruce blocked “desperately.” One of them connected with a solid thunk against Bruce’s cheekbone, and Bruce said “Oof” with satisfaction.
“Happy?” said Clark.
“Rapturous,” Bruce said, leaning in to kiss him.
“Don’t stop now, Superman.” Bruce grinned at him, his voice all grit and grime as he went on: “The night is young, and I have so much planned for you.”
“Bruce…”
Bruce ignored Clark’s look as he lunged forward, catching him in a hip toss and throwing him to the floor of the practice ring. “It’s past time you learned what it means--to be a man.”
Clark couldn’t help it, he started to giggle, covering his face with his hands.
Bruce glared down at him and said in pure Batman-voice, “Giggling is unbecoming to a superhero.”
“I’m sorry,” wheezed Clark. “It’s just so--so--”
Bruce narrowed his eyes and clenched one fist dramatically in front of him. “I want you to remember, Kal--in your most private moments,--the feel of my hand on your throat.” Then he dropped his melodramatic stance and grinned just a touch sheepishly. “So you’re saying that might be a little much?”
“Maybe just a little,” Clark managed to gasp. “You might want to dial it back a little when we get to the actual match.”
“Okay, but I think we’ve got it perfectly calibrated for our promo this week,” said Bruce. “I’m a ball of seething resentment disguised as righteousness, you’ve got the whole more-in-sorrow-than-in-anger thing going on… It’s going to crackle. Run through the end again with me.” He brought up his shoulders and drew down his eyebrows into a scowl, dropping into Dark Knight persona like tossing on a cape as Clark threw back his shoulders and squared his jaw.
The Dark Knight pointed at Superman. “You’re arrogant and mad with power, and I’ll do anything in my power to stop you. Anything, do you hear me?”
Superman shook his head. “I don’t believe you. I’m not even sure you believe yourself. We’re friends, Batman.”
“I’m the Dark Knight,” Bruce rasped. “And I’m not sure we were ever friends. Don’t test my resolve or my determination, Kal.” His voice lowered even further into an ominous growl. “I don’t think you’d like the results.”
Without transition, the Dark Knight was Bruce again, suddenly all quicksilver intelligence and energy. “It’s great,” Bruce announced. “It’s totally in-character for both Superman and Batman, but it’ll make everyone see their characters and their relationship in a new light, leading up to our first fight in three weeks--oh, the buildup is going to be so good.”
What do you mean, our backstage promo didn’t get aired?” Bruce demanded of Mercy Graves a few days later. “It was a great promo!”
“There wasn’t time to put it on the air,” said Mercy. “We put it up on Youtube, though.”
“How can we build to our match without promos? It’s where all the rising action is!” Bruce looked like he wanted to punch something. “Damn it, tell Lex we need time in front of an audience, where we can talk to each other, make the psychology more clear--”
“Mr. Luthor says that if you’re the geniuses you claim to be, you’ll figure out something,” Mercy said, stone-faced.
“He’s burying our angle,” Bruce said when she left. “We finally get an angle together, and that bastard is burying it!”
“I suppose we couldn’t expect much else,” said Clark. “I mean, he’s got to suspect we don’t have his best interests at heart.”
“But...our angle!” Bruce looked almost comically forlorn. “I’ve waited so long to finally be in a feud with you, and now it’s just going to fizzle.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Clark said, looking at his phone. “Check this out.”
He held the phone up so Bruce could see the Youtube page for the promo the two of them had cut--specifically so Bruce could see the number of hits and likes.
When he pulled the phone down and could see Bruce’s face again, Bruce was smiling.
“I’ve got an idea,” said Bruce.
Clark felt a smile tugging at his mouth. “I had a feeling you would.”
The “SupermanVBatman” Youtube channel quickly became one of the most popular wrestling-related channels out there. The videos managed to be dramatic but have wry flashes of humor where it was clear the wrestlers involved were aware this was all slightly ridiculous. Batman and Superman sent each other mocking challenges and training montages, other wrestlers were interviewed about who their preferences were to win, even fan-made videos were sometimes featured. Without any mentioning on the DCW shows, spread only by word of mouth, the videos started racking up astonishing hit counts, and Clark watched Bruce’s rage morph into glee.
Superman and Batman didn’t interact at shows at all, but the crowds started chanting “Man of Steel!” at Batman’s matches with other wrestlers, often causing Batman to break off and rage at the sheep in the crowd who would bow down to a false god like Superman. Clark got more and more fanmail and supportive tweets looking forward to their match (and of course a fair number explaining to him why he was stupid and the Dark Knight totally rocked and was awesome. He smiled and forwarded those to Bruce, knowing it would annoy him).
Now the Dark Knight addressed the camera in one of his final videos before their match, his voice rasping and grim: “And so we meet on Sunday at last. As it was always meant to be--the two of us against each other in a battle for ultimate supremacy.” Batman lifted his chin in challenge. “Superman, you never understood how normal mortals feel. How they live. How they suffer. You, an alien from beyond the stars, untouchable. Inviolable.”
The eyes behind the cowl narrowed to merciless slits. “Do you bleed?” Batman snarled.
He waited a beat, then finished:
“You will.”
Clark managed to not snort out loud until he made the sure the camera was turned off.