Eight Flight, Audio (Superman)
[The police radio hadn't said much. Clark had heard it--his eyes still hurt, but his hearing was just fine, and the Port's police scanners were always on his mind, a hum and buzz of activity. At night there was far less, because the police didn't tend to work during the Darkness, and for good reason--they weren't paid well enough to risk their lives against unpredictable monsters when most people with any sense were inside anyway. That was why it took so long for someone to notice the corpse hanging from the SERO building. Too high up to be recovered in the Darkness, the call had come back to leave it until morning; they'd send a flier to pick it up first thing, before the morning rush-hour, if the Darkness monsters didn't pick it apart first.
His heart in his mouth, Clark had left Lois safe in their apartment, locked in the bedroom, for the main room was infested with Darkness. Nothing could have prepared him for what he found.
Hovering sixty floors above street level, minutes passed--they felt like hours. Bruce was hanging upside down, his foot wrapped in the tiny, superstrong filament of his grapple gun, capeless. His mask hid his face, but not his sightless dead eyes. The top of his head was missing, like Carrie, and with it the ridiculous ears. It seemed stupid, but it was that thought that made the agony boil up inside of him, spilling over into his already stung and painful eyes. All the times he'd teased him about those ridiculous pointy ears...
It was all he could do to sweep forward, to wrap his arms gently around the lifeless body and lift it against his chest. The rigormortis had set in hours ago, and it only remained in the limbs now, the core soft and pliant as he curled Bruce against him, searing through the cable with a blast of heat vision that once again hurt.
Everything hurt.
The flight to ground level made his heart ache, and he laid the body down on the smooth, polished marble plaza, dropping to one knee beside him.]
I'm sorry. I should have been there. I'm just letting everyone down, aren't I?
[He paused, as though expecting an answer, or perhaps for Bruce to smack him across the back of the head for being an idiot. After a moment of silence he reached forward, brushed his fingers across Bruce's eyes and closed them. His hands were shaking.]
I'll take you home to your children.
[But first his NV. Clark drew the crystal shakily from within his cape, brushed his fingers across the stone and closed his eyes. Audio. Nobody should see this. Superman's voice felt gravelly and unnatural, not carrying his grief well at all. The deep notes sounded like posturing, which didn't suit the situation in the slightest; it made him feel like he wasn't himself, and somehow it made all of this so much more unreal.]
This is Superman. It is with the deepest regret that I must convey--
[Saying it out loud. Batman is dead. Not Bruce. Batman. True but not true. Thhis would make it a reality.]
The Batman is dead.
[For those listening closely, they may hear the slightest hitch of a sob in Superman's voice, and when he speaks again it's much softer, not intended to be heard. He's speaking once again to the corpse in front of him, rather than the network at large.]
I'm sorry.
[OOC: Clark is - if he responds - unlikely to speak for long, since he's taking Batman home. There will be a log going up soon for Batcave sadness and goodbyes. Also Dream will be posting Batman's automatic messages for people here; the trigger for their being sent out is 'Batman is dead', and they go out to all his Batkids and a few other people who know his identity etc. Feel free to threadjack each other! I will stop spamming the comms soon I swear.]
His heart in his mouth, Clark had left Lois safe in their apartment, locked in the bedroom, for the main room was infested with Darkness. Nothing could have prepared him for what he found.
Hovering sixty floors above street level, minutes passed--they felt like hours. Bruce was hanging upside down, his foot wrapped in the tiny, superstrong filament of his grapple gun, capeless. His mask hid his face, but not his sightless dead eyes. The top of his head was missing, like Carrie, and with it the ridiculous ears. It seemed stupid, but it was that thought that made the agony boil up inside of him, spilling over into his already stung and painful eyes. All the times he'd teased him about those ridiculous pointy ears...
It was all he could do to sweep forward, to wrap his arms gently around the lifeless body and lift it against his chest. The rigormortis had set in hours ago, and it only remained in the limbs now, the core soft and pliant as he curled Bruce against him, searing through the cable with a blast of heat vision that once again hurt.
Everything hurt.
The flight to ground level made his heart ache, and he laid the body down on the smooth, polished marble plaza, dropping to one knee beside him.]
I'm sorry. I should have been there. I'm just letting everyone down, aren't I?
[He paused, as though expecting an answer, or perhaps for Bruce to smack him across the back of the head for being an idiot. After a moment of silence he reached forward, brushed his fingers across Bruce's eyes and closed them. His hands were shaking.]
I'll take you home to your children.
[But first his NV. Clark drew the crystal shakily from within his cape, brushed his fingers across the stone and closed his eyes. Audio. Nobody should see this. Superman's voice felt gravelly and unnatural, not carrying his grief well at all. The deep notes sounded like posturing, which didn't suit the situation in the slightest; it made him feel like he wasn't himself, and somehow it made all of this so much more unreal.]
This is Superman. It is with the deepest regret that I must convey--
[Saying it out loud. Batman is dead. Not Bruce. Batman. True but not true. Thhis would make it a reality.]
The Batman is dead.
[For those listening closely, they may hear the slightest hitch of a sob in Superman's voice, and when he speaks again it's much softer, not intended to be heard. He's speaking once again to the corpse in front of him, rather than the network at large.]
I'm sorry.
[OOC: Clark is - if he responds - unlikely to speak for long, since he's taking Batman home. There will be a log going up soon for Batcave sadness and goodbyes. Also Dream will be posting Batman's automatic messages for people here; the trigger for their being sent out is 'Batman is dead', and they go out to all his Batkids and a few other people who know his identity etc. Feel free to threadjack each other! I will stop spamming the comms soon I swear.]