Trademark [fic]
[Written for arkhams_dr as part of my Fic Requests post.]
“I said go fish.” Harvey Dent looked across the park bench with annoyance. The Batman™ baseball cap askew on his head was half-white, half-navy blue, with the yellow Bat-Logo™ in the center, and did nothing to disguise his two-faced appearance.
Jonathan Crane looked back with equal irritation. “I won’t be held to your manmade timetables, Harvey.” He paused, straightening the dark blue tie he wore, which had the Bat-signal™ tiled on it. “Besides, I’m bored. Can’t we play War instead?”
“Maybe a thumb war,” Dent glared. “Oh, here’s one for you. How about Fifty-Two Pick Up?” He flung the pile of cards upward. They sailed through the air and finally landed, individual Bat™ insignias littering the ground.
“Very mature,” Crane said.
“That’s tough talk coming from someone wearing a Batman™ pocket protector,” Dent said.
“I think it’s time for my snack break.” Ignoring Harvey’s last remark, Jonathan opened his bookbag, which boasted a picture of the Batman™ knocking out none other than the Joker and proclaimed, in bold lettering, “WHAP! POW! KABLAM!” From the bag, he took out a juicebox, plastered with a cartoonish figure of the Batman™ on it.
“Fine,” Harvey grumbled. He picked up his Batman™ lunchbox, emblazoned with the Bat™ stopping a bank robbery headed up by the Riddler, and opened it.
“What did we bring for snack?” Jonathan peered over, the weight of his clip-on Bat™-sunglasses making his actual glasses fall down his nose a bit.
Harvey glared. “I brought a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” he held up a sandwich that had been cut in the shape of a bat. “For me. Also, some fruit snacks.” He held up a package of Batman™ fruit snacks, in various shapes, including the Batmobile™, the Batsignal™ and the Batman™ himself.
“Not sharing is rude,” Crane said snidely as he poked the straw through the hole in the top of the juicebox.
“Fine, here.” Dent ripped open the pack of fruit snacks and flung a gummy Batmobile™ at him. It bounced off Crane’s glasses and landed in his lap.
The doctor frowned as he picked it up. “Is this even edible?” He inspected it, then took a bite and made a face. “Perhaps the Bat-man is trying to kill us all with high fructose corn syrup. These are awful.”
“You huff fear gas and you’re calling those awful?” Dent rolled his eyes.
“Gentlemen,” a familiar voice said. At once, both men looked up to see Commissioner James Gordon.
Harvey didn’t bother sitting up straight, like a slovenly teenager with his sideways Bat™ ball cap and his matching clothes - a surfer-style T-shirt with the Bat™ logo silkscreened on it, amongst some flames, and board shorts, one leg blue, one leg white, with the logo in the corner.
“Can we help you?” Jonathan, too, reacted with practiced nonchalance, reaching over to tie a shoelace, which had tiny bats printed on it.
“What, uh, what are you doing here?” Gordon asked, puzzled by the presence of two of Gotham’s most notorious (and yet untouchable in court) villains in the middle of the park.
“What does it look like?” Jonathan gave the policeman a haughty glare and took a long sip from his juicebox. “We’re having lunch.”
Harvey took a bite out of a Bat-sandwich. “Peanut butter and jelly. Want some?” he asked with a full mouth.
“You’ll share with him and you won’t share with me?” Crane protested.
“Fine, here,” Dent threw him another Saran-wrapped sandwich. He looked at Gordon, unapologetically. “Sorry.”
“…you mean to tell me that Two-Face and the Scarecrow are sitting in the park, having a Sunday picnic with nothing planned, no ulterior motives?” Gordon was incredulous.
“That sums it up accurately,” Crane said, taking out a notebook that had Batman™ fighting Catwoman on the cover. He pulled out one of his pens, which matched, and began taking notes.
Dent nodded. “Just chillin’ like…well, villains, actually.”
“And all of the…superhero regalia?” Gordon asked, motioning to their various Bat-gear.
“They’re called collectibles,” Crane corrected. “We’re hoping that when the Bat dies, they’ll go up in value.”
“So it has nothing to do with the fact that neither of you are featured on any of this merchandise?” Gordon asked. “Riddler, Joker, Catwoman, even Mr. Freeze is on some of this stuff. That doesn’t bother you?”
Crane bristled. “We needn’t take out billboards or see schoolchildren toting our likenesses around to know we’re successful at what we do,” he said.
“So then, yes,” Gordon said.
Without another word, Crane reached in his pocket.
“Playdate’s over,” Dent said quickly, getting up. He put his lunchbox under his arm and took off on his Batman™ skateboard, pushing the board along in his Batman™ Vans.
As he was doing that, Crane let go a puff of fear gas in Gordon’s direction and looked for his own exit. He hit the side of his Batman™ watch expectantly, but nothing happened. “Lies!” he hissed. “The cereal box promised me a Bat-grappler would shoot out!” He hit it again and a piece of string, with a small plastic bat on the end, shot out. “Shoddy craftsmanship if I ever saw it,” he muttered as he started running away. “I’ll be writing a letter to the manufacturer about this.”
“I said go fish.” Harvey Dent looked across the park bench with annoyance. The Batman™ baseball cap askew on his head was half-white, half-navy blue, with the yellow Bat-Logo™ in the center, and did nothing to disguise his two-faced appearance.
Jonathan Crane looked back with equal irritation. “I won’t be held to your manmade timetables, Harvey.” He paused, straightening the dark blue tie he wore, which had the Bat-signal™ tiled on it. “Besides, I’m bored. Can’t we play War instead?”
“Maybe a thumb war,” Dent glared. “Oh, here’s one for you. How about Fifty-Two Pick Up?” He flung the pile of cards upward. They sailed through the air and finally landed, individual Bat™ insignias littering the ground.
“Very mature,” Crane said.
“That’s tough talk coming from someone wearing a Batman™ pocket protector,” Dent said.
“I think it’s time for my snack break.” Ignoring Harvey’s last remark, Jonathan opened his bookbag, which boasted a picture of the Batman™ knocking out none other than the Joker and proclaimed, in bold lettering, “WHAP! POW! KABLAM!” From the bag, he took out a juicebox, plastered with a cartoonish figure of the Batman™ on it.
“Fine,” Harvey grumbled. He picked up his Batman™ lunchbox, emblazoned with the Bat™ stopping a bank robbery headed up by the Riddler, and opened it.
“What did we bring for snack?” Jonathan peered over, the weight of his clip-on Bat™-sunglasses making his actual glasses fall down his nose a bit.
Harvey glared. “I brought a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” he held up a sandwich that had been cut in the shape of a bat. “For me. Also, some fruit snacks.” He held up a package of Batman™ fruit snacks, in various shapes, including the Batmobile™, the Batsignal™ and the Batman™ himself.
“Not sharing is rude,” Crane said snidely as he poked the straw through the hole in the top of the juicebox.
“Fine, here.” Dent ripped open the pack of fruit snacks and flung a gummy Batmobile™ at him. It bounced off Crane’s glasses and landed in his lap.
The doctor frowned as he picked it up. “Is this even edible?” He inspected it, then took a bite and made a face. “Perhaps the Bat-man is trying to kill us all with high fructose corn syrup. These are awful.”
“You huff fear gas and you’re calling those awful?” Dent rolled his eyes.
“Gentlemen,” a familiar voice said. At once, both men looked up to see Commissioner James Gordon.
Harvey didn’t bother sitting up straight, like a slovenly teenager with his sideways Bat™ ball cap and his matching clothes - a surfer-style T-shirt with the Bat™ logo silkscreened on it, amongst some flames, and board shorts, one leg blue, one leg white, with the logo in the corner.
“Can we help you?” Jonathan, too, reacted with practiced nonchalance, reaching over to tie a shoelace, which had tiny bats printed on it.
“What, uh, what are you doing here?” Gordon asked, puzzled by the presence of two of Gotham’s most notorious (and yet untouchable in court) villains in the middle of the park.
“What does it look like?” Jonathan gave the policeman a haughty glare and took a long sip from his juicebox. “We’re having lunch.”
Harvey took a bite out of a Bat-sandwich. “Peanut butter and jelly. Want some?” he asked with a full mouth.
“You’ll share with him and you won’t share with me?” Crane protested.
“Fine, here,” Dent threw him another Saran-wrapped sandwich. He looked at Gordon, unapologetically. “Sorry.”
“…you mean to tell me that Two-Face and the Scarecrow are sitting in the park, having a Sunday picnic with nothing planned, no ulterior motives?” Gordon was incredulous.
“That sums it up accurately,” Crane said, taking out a notebook that had Batman™ fighting Catwoman on the cover. He pulled out one of his pens, which matched, and began taking notes.
Dent nodded. “Just chillin’ like…well, villains, actually.”
“And all of the…superhero regalia?” Gordon asked, motioning to their various Bat-gear.
“They’re called collectibles,” Crane corrected. “We’re hoping that when the Bat dies, they’ll go up in value.”
“So it has nothing to do with the fact that neither of you are featured on any of this merchandise?” Gordon asked. “Riddler, Joker, Catwoman, even Mr. Freeze is on some of this stuff. That doesn’t bother you?”
Crane bristled. “We needn’t take out billboards or see schoolchildren toting our likenesses around to know we’re successful at what we do,” he said.
“So then, yes,” Gordon said.
Without another word, Crane reached in his pocket.
“Playdate’s over,” Dent said quickly, getting up. He put his lunchbox under his arm and took off on his Batman™ skateboard, pushing the board along in his Batman™ Vans.
As he was doing that, Crane let go a puff of fear gas in Gordon’s direction and looked for his own exit. He hit the side of his Batman™ watch expectantly, but nothing happened. “Lies!” he hissed. “The cereal box promised me a Bat-grappler would shoot out!” He hit it again and a piece of string, with a small plastic bat on the end, shot out. “Shoddy craftsmanship if I ever saw it,” he muttered as he started running away. “I’ll be writing a letter to the manufacturer about this.”