Heroes of the Squared Circle 17: The Natural
Title: The Natural
Relationship: Clark/Bruce
Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor, Dick Grayson, Jimmy Olsen, Selina Kyle, Waylon Jones, Mercy Graves
Continuity: Heroes of the Squared Circle, a DC/pro wrestling fusion ( click for notes and all chapters).
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count 3000
Summary: As the JLI's "invasion" of the DCW continues, Dick Grayson makes his move to become a full-time wrestler.
I understood for the first time the creativity and the drama required to be a great worker: the art of making it all seem real and telling a story using my body. I would show them all... --Bret Hart
"I want security camera footage! I want to know who assaulted me last Monday, and I want them to pay. Otis, get me the footage from the Metropolis arena and get it now."
"Yes sir, Mr. Luthor sir!" Otis stumbled out of the office, to the laughter of the crowd in the arena watching the scene play out on the Jumbotron, and Lex Luthor drummed his fingers on his desk as the camera cut to commercial.
The first match of the night--Flash versus the Pied Piper--went smoothly enough, and was followed by another in-ring interview between Jimmy Olsen and Lex Luthor, this one about the "vicious and unprovoked attack on my person," as Luthor intoned.
"So," said Jimmy, "Who do you think--"
"--Well, I have my suspicions," said Luthor. "But so far I don't have any proof of--"
"Mr. Luthor, Mr. Luthor!" Otis hurried down the ramp, waving his arms. "We found the culprits! On the security tape!"
Luthor beamed. "Good job, Otis. Remind me to double your bonus."
"I don't get a bonus, Mr. Luthor."
"Right," said Luthor. "Put it onscreen. I want everyone to see the kind of unscrupulous thugs we're dealing with."
The Jumbotron sprang to life with grainy black and white footage, apparently of an emergency fire door. Five figures--three men and two women--wearing identical black baseball caps pulled down to hide their faces slipped into the hall, looking surreptitiously around. The first figure--clearly the leader--beckoned to the others to follow him, and they skulked down the hall and out of range of the camera. (Or rather, four of them skulked and one of them did his best). But before they did, the camera got a good look at the intruders--and their shirts etched with the spray-painted JLI logo.
The crowd's murmurs swelled into an excited rustle as the footage paused on the screen and Jimmy Olsen held the mic up to Luthor's face once more. "So, do you think--excuse me, Mr. Luthor, do you think--"
Lex Luthor was ignoring Olsen, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the front row.
And the five people sitting in the audience there, who had just removed their jackets to reveal their JLI shirts.
: : :
Selina nudged Clark in the ribs. "Grin," she hissed, and Clark smiled up at Luthor with the four other JLI wrestlers as the cameras picked them out of the crowd and put them on the Jumbotron. The murmur of the audience picked up into a sharp buzz as the camera panned along their faces: Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle, Clark Kent, Scott Free, and Barda Free, all sitting in the front row in their JLI shirts, their arms crossed.
"What are you doing here?" Luthor yelled. "Otis, throw those hoodlums out of my show."
Otis stumbled out of the ring and started to approach them, but Bruce brandished tickets to the event in his face. "Do you often call your paying customers hoodlums?" he called up to Luthor, his voice conveniently picked up by Otis's lapel mic. "We don't need to sneak around anywhere. I just decided to come by with some of my friends and watch your oh-so-very entertaining show."
Otis shrugged and looked up at Luthor, who composed his face with an effort. "I'm so glad you're enjoying it," he purred. "Maybe you'll have a chance to learn what a real wrestling promotion looks like."
"Oh, I'm having Kent take careful notes," Bruce called back. Clark looked confused and frowned down at his crossed arms, and a rustle of laughter went around the auditorium.
Luthor looked up at the footage from the security camera, then back down at the five JLI wrestlers in baffled fury. "You'll regret this," he said.
"Regret paying to see your show?" Barda threw her head back and laughed. "We're already doing that."
Luthor stormed out with Otis in his wake, leaving a confused Jimmy Olsen in the ring to shrug at the audience before also leaving. The crowd fizzed and buzzed until the familiar notes of the Flying Graysons theme rang out and the spotlight lit up the center of the ring with its brilliant glare.
He'd seen the entrance a thousand times on television, but Clark still caught his breath as John and Mary Grayson descended from the rafters, their white capes swirling around them like wings. They touched down lightly in the ring, acknowledging the applause of the crowd before preparing to face John's opponent, Killer Croc. When Croc appeared at the top of the ramp, dragging a rumpled Dick Grayson with him, the crowd groaned and tittered simultaneously. "Again?" someone catcalled.
Clark saw annoyance flicker across Dick's features, and under cover of struggling, he said something under his breath to Croc. Then he dodged from Croc's grip and tossed him into a picture-perfect rolling release suplex, ending with a backflip to land on his feet as Croc sprawled on his back.
The crowd went silent for a moment, then erupted in cheers as Dick grinned and bowed. Clark heard a shrill whistle of approval from nearby and realized it was Bruce. Indeed, none of the JLI wrestlers could maintain their stolid facades at the thrilled look on Dick's face and were applauding wildly as well.
Up in the ring, John and Mary's looks of surprise gave way to smiling admiration at their boy. Then Mary's fond look switched to horror as she pointed behind Dick, where Killer Croc was staggering to his feet. The crowd screamed a warning, but Dick was too caught up in the moment to notice the looming threat, and soon he was knocked out once more and dragged to the ring by Croc to display as a trophy to a furious John Grayson.
As he was dragged past the JLI wrestlers in the front row, though, Clark could have sworn he winked at Bruce before going back to dazed confusion.
Clark shot a look at Bruce, who smiled innocently at him. "I might have given him some tips," Bruce said under cover of the crowd noise. "Not that he needs them, really."
The next two matches went off without incident, although the camera kept straying to the five rogue wrestlers in the front row and the commentators kept discussing the meaning of it all. Clark hoped Red Tornado wasn't getting annoyed that attention kept focusing on them rather than his match with Metallo, but there was nothing they could do about that.
Then came the match between Green Lantern and Sinestro. The crowd was hot--Hal Jordan was extremely over with the fans right now--and the volume increased to almost deafening levels as the two old foes took the fight out of the ring, battling up the ramp and then back down toward the ring. As the fight drew near their side of the crowd, Clark, Scott and Barda began to heckle Sinestro, who gave them an annoyed look as he dodged a clothesline from Green Lantern. Reversing the move, he tossed Green Lantern up against the barricade. Jordan sagged against the metal barricade, seemingly stunned.
And Billionaire Brucie produced a chair and whacked him on the back with it.
The thwack seemed to cut through the roar of the crowd like a laser; Green Lantern staggered under the impact. As he reeled, Brucie handed the chair casually to Selina, who handed it on to Clark, who took it reflexively.
When Green Lantern turned, furious, Brucie pointed to Country Clark, still holding the chair.
Clark dropped the chair with a clatter and a betrayed look at Brucie, but it was too late--Green Lantern had grabbed him by the shirt and was trying to drag him over the barricade. Scott Free and Barda shoved him away, and the wrestlers stared angrily at each other--at least until Sinestro took advantage of the distraction to grab his own chair and start battering the hapless Emerald Gladiator.
"That's a little payback for the real Green Lantern!" Selina yelled as the fight raged, and a delighted gasp scurried around the audience.
Then security started bearing down on them, and Brucie said, "I think it's time for us to make an expedited retreat. Scatter!" The five wrestlers took off through the crowd to shrieks of glee from the audience; Clark felt hands patting his back, slapping his shoulder as he ran up the aisle toward the exit.
The reverse invasion had started in earnest.
: : :
Outside the arena, Bruce was standing on top of a rusty old car, waving a JLI t-shirt like a banner. "Come and get 'em, official merchandise of the downtrodden and oppressed!"
Clark struggled to collect the wads of wrinkled bills being thrust at him, doling out shirts as fast as he could to what seemed like hundreds of grasping hands.
"Show Luthor you stand up for the little guy! Buy the shirts they wouldn't allow into the arena! Let's see a sea of black and red at the next show!" Bruce exhorted the crowd, and they shrieked and pushed closer.
Clark sighed and handed over a shirt to a woman who hugged it to her chest like a holy relic. He already know how his conversation with Bruce was going to unfold later: he would point out that it seemed unfair to claim the t-shirts were a sign of rebellion against the DCW when the money went to the DCW. And Bruce would raise his eyebrows in That Way and say "But we're not selling them t-shirts, Clark, we're selling them a fantasy of rebellion. We're letting them be part of a sweeping revenge narrative, a titanic battle between good and evil, for a mere twenty bucks. A bargain at twice the price, I'd say." And Clark would have to admit that the ecstatic reaction to the shirts was to much more than a piece of cloth, and Bruce would laugh and say "We are the sellers of dreams, Clark. Each of those people owns a little piece of your pure and gallant soul."
From atop the car, Bruce looked down at his expression and gave him That Look, the one that said Yes, I know you're having your doubts about this, and you know what I'd argue back.
Clark was beginning to suspect he and Bruce knew each other too well, if they could have entire hypothetical arguments without words.
The boxes empty, the JLI slipped backstage to collect their belongings and call it a night. In the common room, Waylon Jones was bragging about his performance. "And the kid said--check this out, the kid said, 'I'm gonna suplex ya, Mr. Jones. That okay?' And I was like, 'Hell yeah, kid, suplex the shit outta me!' Ain't that awesome?" He beamed at all and sundry. "Who's got two thumbs and is the first wrestler to get suplexed by the future superstar of the DCW?" He jabbed both thumbs at his chest. "Killer Croc, that's who! Remember who put you over when you make the big times, kid!"
"You can't go off-script like that too often," John warned his son. Dick scuffed the ground with a foot. "But that was a brilliant suplex, son."
Dick bounced on his toes, his buoyant mood recovered. "Mr. Luthor says I can be in a real match against Mr. Jones soon! I hope Mr. Gambi can finish my new costume before then!"
"I believe you still owe all of us better skulkers a pizza, Kent," said Bruce. "And it's good for all of us to be seen in public together, since we're supposed to be a team." His smile turned a bit lopsided. "And I think I'd like to enjoy spending some time with--with all of you before my inevitable betrayal of my former compatriots."
"Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!" Harvey yelled, slapping him on the back. "Pop culture reference," he added at Bruce's blank look. "Forgot you don't get most of those, never mind."
"You guys are so cool," said Dick.
Clark couldn't help snorting. "You've been in the business a lot longer than I have!"
"Yeah, but..." Dick shifted from one foot to the other. "You're just cooler."
Clark smiled at him, remembering a young man of the same age, full of excitement and insecurity. "You want to come have some pizza with us?"
"Gosh!" Dick looked at his parents, who smiled and nodded. "That'd be great! Let me change and I'll be right back!"
"Hey, kid!" Dick paused and Bruce threw a spare JLI t-shirt at him. "This way you'll fit in better."
Dick beamed and ran off, clutching the shirt.
"Damn it," Barda grumbled. "Does this mean I don't get to have a beer with my pizza?"
"He grew up around wrestlers," Bruce said as they gathered up their stuff. "I'm pretty sure a couple of beers aren't going to faze him. Let's throw our bags in the car while he changes," he said. "Clark, will you stay here and let him know where we are?"
Clark tossed him a salute and they went off down the corridor, chatting. Heading back toward the locker room, he was passing by Lex Luthor's office when the door swung open and Otis Berg stumbled out, looking pale. "You're not going to talk to Luthor right now, are you?" When Clark shook his head, he sighed in relief. "He's busy chewing out Jenna--Ms Duffy. She does our stage work," he added to Clark's blank look. "Apparently her crew was too slow with the Graysons' harnesses," Otis said. "Almost screwed up the timing of the whole spot. Luthor's madder than a wet hen." He wiped his brow with a checkered handkerchief. "Let me tell you, I'm glad I'm only his kayfabe assistant. I don't know how that Graves woman manages it."
"'That Graves woman' manages it quite well, thank you," said an arctic voice, and Otis jumped as Mercy Graves came around the corner.
"S--S--Sorry, Ms Graves!" he stammered, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.
The door slammed open again, this time disgorging a woman in overalls and a utility belt slung with wrenches, drills, and levels. "Fine!" she yelled back into Luthor's office. "Go ahead and replace me with someone who works faster, see what kind of quality you get!"
"I can show you to the exit, Ms Duffy," Mercy said.
"I know my goddamn way," snarled the woman, and stomped off.
"I believe you both have places to be?" Mercy said to Clark and Otis as they stared after Jenna Duffy.
"Oh yes! Yes, of course!" Otis hurried away. Clark met Mercy's cold green eyes and decided it might be best to continue hunting for Dick Grayson.
By the time he'd tracked the excited teen down, he'd almost forgotten the conversation entirely.
: : :
Dinner was a raucous affair, with everyone competing to see who could order the most expensive toppings for their pizza while Clark complained strenuously. Dick asked an endless flow of questions, and the JLI wrestlers were more than happy to share their stories as he hung on every word.
"Excuse me?" The conversation stopped as a boy barely in his teens approached the table, his cell phone in his shaking hand. "Can--I was just wondering--I hate to bother you, but can--can I get a picture with--"
All the wrestlers at the table smiled indulgently.
"--with you?" the boy finished, gazing adoringly at Dick Grayson as if no one else was there at all.
"Oh, sure thing!" Dick hopped up from his seat, oblivious to the subtle deflation of his table-mates.
"I'm such a huge fan," the boy said as Bruce obligingly took their picture together, "This--this means the world to me."
"Thank you so much! Fans like you are the reason wrestling is fun," Dick said, with all the aplomb of a wrestler twice his age. He grabbed his napkin. "Let me sign something for you."
"You--you'd--" The boy looked like he might pass out.
"What's your name?"
The fan mumbled something too low for anyone but Dick to pick out, but Dick grinned and signed the napkin with a flourish. "To Tim, from Dick Grayson. Keep smiling!"
The boy--Tim, apparently--leaned close to Dick and whispered loudly, "You're not joining up with them, are you?"
"What, the JLI?" Tim nodded solemnly, looking down at Dick's chest. "Oh, the t-shirt. Nah, I'm just having some pizza, learning some tricks of the trade from them."
Tim looked dubious. "Be careful," he said, eyeing the other wrestlers warily before walking away, staring at his cell phone as if at the secrets of the universe.
"That would make an interesting angle," Bruce said thoughtfully. "Bright young star asserts his independence by teaming up with the troublemakers invading his boss's promotion? Great storyline."
Dick's face lit up. "Gosh, do you think--?" He broke off, his smile fading. "No, I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne, it would never work. I don't want to have to reject my parents, you know? I think I can make it on my own without seeming like I was stabbing them in the back."
Bruce took a bite of pizza: Clark had learned to read his expression (or lack thereof) fairly well by now, and there were hints of both disappointment and approval in the set of his jaw.
"I'm pretty sure you can too," said Bruce.
----
( Chapter 18: Anger, Frustration, and Pain)
Relationship: Clark/Bruce
Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor, Dick Grayson, Jimmy Olsen, Selina Kyle, Waylon Jones, Mercy Graves
Continuity: Heroes of the Squared Circle, a DC/pro wrestling fusion ( click for notes and all chapters).
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count 3000
Summary: As the JLI's "invasion" of the DCW continues, Dick Grayson makes his move to become a full-time wrestler.
I understood for the first time the creativity and the drama required to be a great worker: the art of making it all seem real and telling a story using my body. I would show them all... --Bret Hart
"I want security camera footage! I want to know who assaulted me last Monday, and I want them to pay. Otis, get me the footage from the Metropolis arena and get it now."
"Yes sir, Mr. Luthor sir!" Otis stumbled out of the office, to the laughter of the crowd in the arena watching the scene play out on the Jumbotron, and Lex Luthor drummed his fingers on his desk as the camera cut to commercial.
The first match of the night--Flash versus the Pied Piper--went smoothly enough, and was followed by another in-ring interview between Jimmy Olsen and Lex Luthor, this one about the "vicious and unprovoked attack on my person," as Luthor intoned.
"So," said Jimmy, "Who do you think--"
"--Well, I have my suspicions," said Luthor. "But so far I don't have any proof of--"
"Mr. Luthor, Mr. Luthor!" Otis hurried down the ramp, waving his arms. "We found the culprits! On the security tape!"
Luthor beamed. "Good job, Otis. Remind me to double your bonus."
"I don't get a bonus, Mr. Luthor."
"Right," said Luthor. "Put it onscreen. I want everyone to see the kind of unscrupulous thugs we're dealing with."
The Jumbotron sprang to life with grainy black and white footage, apparently of an emergency fire door. Five figures--three men and two women--wearing identical black baseball caps pulled down to hide their faces slipped into the hall, looking surreptitiously around. The first figure--clearly the leader--beckoned to the others to follow him, and they skulked down the hall and out of range of the camera. (Or rather, four of them skulked and one of them did his best). But before they did, the camera got a good look at the intruders--and their shirts etched with the spray-painted JLI logo.
The crowd's murmurs swelled into an excited rustle as the footage paused on the screen and Jimmy Olsen held the mic up to Luthor's face once more. "So, do you think--excuse me, Mr. Luthor, do you think--"
Lex Luthor was ignoring Olsen, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the front row.
And the five people sitting in the audience there, who had just removed their jackets to reveal their JLI shirts.
: : :
Selina nudged Clark in the ribs. "Grin," she hissed, and Clark smiled up at Luthor with the four other JLI wrestlers as the cameras picked them out of the crowd and put them on the Jumbotron. The murmur of the audience picked up into a sharp buzz as the camera panned along their faces: Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle, Clark Kent, Scott Free, and Barda Free, all sitting in the front row in their JLI shirts, their arms crossed.
"What are you doing here?" Luthor yelled. "Otis, throw those hoodlums out of my show."
Otis stumbled out of the ring and started to approach them, but Bruce brandished tickets to the event in his face. "Do you often call your paying customers hoodlums?" he called up to Luthor, his voice conveniently picked up by Otis's lapel mic. "We don't need to sneak around anywhere. I just decided to come by with some of my friends and watch your oh-so-very entertaining show."
Otis shrugged and looked up at Luthor, who composed his face with an effort. "I'm so glad you're enjoying it," he purred. "Maybe you'll have a chance to learn what a real wrestling promotion looks like."
"Oh, I'm having Kent take careful notes," Bruce called back. Clark looked confused and frowned down at his crossed arms, and a rustle of laughter went around the auditorium.
Luthor looked up at the footage from the security camera, then back down at the five JLI wrestlers in baffled fury. "You'll regret this," he said.
"Regret paying to see your show?" Barda threw her head back and laughed. "We're already doing that."
Luthor stormed out with Otis in his wake, leaving a confused Jimmy Olsen in the ring to shrug at the audience before also leaving. The crowd fizzed and buzzed until the familiar notes of the Flying Graysons theme rang out and the spotlight lit up the center of the ring with its brilliant glare.
He'd seen the entrance a thousand times on television, but Clark still caught his breath as John and Mary Grayson descended from the rafters, their white capes swirling around them like wings. They touched down lightly in the ring, acknowledging the applause of the crowd before preparing to face John's opponent, Killer Croc. When Croc appeared at the top of the ramp, dragging a rumpled Dick Grayson with him, the crowd groaned and tittered simultaneously. "Again?" someone catcalled.
Clark saw annoyance flicker across Dick's features, and under cover of struggling, he said something under his breath to Croc. Then he dodged from Croc's grip and tossed him into a picture-perfect rolling release suplex, ending with a backflip to land on his feet as Croc sprawled on his back.
The crowd went silent for a moment, then erupted in cheers as Dick grinned and bowed. Clark heard a shrill whistle of approval from nearby and realized it was Bruce. Indeed, none of the JLI wrestlers could maintain their stolid facades at the thrilled look on Dick's face and were applauding wildly as well.
Up in the ring, John and Mary's looks of surprise gave way to smiling admiration at their boy. Then Mary's fond look switched to horror as she pointed behind Dick, where Killer Croc was staggering to his feet. The crowd screamed a warning, but Dick was too caught up in the moment to notice the looming threat, and soon he was knocked out once more and dragged to the ring by Croc to display as a trophy to a furious John Grayson.
As he was dragged past the JLI wrestlers in the front row, though, Clark could have sworn he winked at Bruce before going back to dazed confusion.
Clark shot a look at Bruce, who smiled innocently at him. "I might have given him some tips," Bruce said under cover of the crowd noise. "Not that he needs them, really."
The next two matches went off without incident, although the camera kept straying to the five rogue wrestlers in the front row and the commentators kept discussing the meaning of it all. Clark hoped Red Tornado wasn't getting annoyed that attention kept focusing on them rather than his match with Metallo, but there was nothing they could do about that.
Then came the match between Green Lantern and Sinestro. The crowd was hot--Hal Jordan was extremely over with the fans right now--and the volume increased to almost deafening levels as the two old foes took the fight out of the ring, battling up the ramp and then back down toward the ring. As the fight drew near their side of the crowd, Clark, Scott and Barda began to heckle Sinestro, who gave them an annoyed look as he dodged a clothesline from Green Lantern. Reversing the move, he tossed Green Lantern up against the barricade. Jordan sagged against the metal barricade, seemingly stunned.
And Billionaire Brucie produced a chair and whacked him on the back with it.
The thwack seemed to cut through the roar of the crowd like a laser; Green Lantern staggered under the impact. As he reeled, Brucie handed the chair casually to Selina, who handed it on to Clark, who took it reflexively.
When Green Lantern turned, furious, Brucie pointed to Country Clark, still holding the chair.
Clark dropped the chair with a clatter and a betrayed look at Brucie, but it was too late--Green Lantern had grabbed him by the shirt and was trying to drag him over the barricade. Scott Free and Barda shoved him away, and the wrestlers stared angrily at each other--at least until Sinestro took advantage of the distraction to grab his own chair and start battering the hapless Emerald Gladiator.
"That's a little payback for the real Green Lantern!" Selina yelled as the fight raged, and a delighted gasp scurried around the audience.
Then security started bearing down on them, and Brucie said, "I think it's time for us to make an expedited retreat. Scatter!" The five wrestlers took off through the crowd to shrieks of glee from the audience; Clark felt hands patting his back, slapping his shoulder as he ran up the aisle toward the exit.
The reverse invasion had started in earnest.
: : :
Outside the arena, Bruce was standing on top of a rusty old car, waving a JLI t-shirt like a banner. "Come and get 'em, official merchandise of the downtrodden and oppressed!"
Clark struggled to collect the wads of wrinkled bills being thrust at him, doling out shirts as fast as he could to what seemed like hundreds of grasping hands.
"Show Luthor you stand up for the little guy! Buy the shirts they wouldn't allow into the arena! Let's see a sea of black and red at the next show!" Bruce exhorted the crowd, and they shrieked and pushed closer.
Clark sighed and handed over a shirt to a woman who hugged it to her chest like a holy relic. He already know how his conversation with Bruce was going to unfold later: he would point out that it seemed unfair to claim the t-shirts were a sign of rebellion against the DCW when the money went to the DCW. And Bruce would raise his eyebrows in That Way and say "But we're not selling them t-shirts, Clark, we're selling them a fantasy of rebellion. We're letting them be part of a sweeping revenge narrative, a titanic battle between good and evil, for a mere twenty bucks. A bargain at twice the price, I'd say." And Clark would have to admit that the ecstatic reaction to the shirts was to much more than a piece of cloth, and Bruce would laugh and say "We are the sellers of dreams, Clark. Each of those people owns a little piece of your pure and gallant soul."
From atop the car, Bruce looked down at his expression and gave him That Look, the one that said Yes, I know you're having your doubts about this, and you know what I'd argue back.
Clark was beginning to suspect he and Bruce knew each other too well, if they could have entire hypothetical arguments without words.
The boxes empty, the JLI slipped backstage to collect their belongings and call it a night. In the common room, Waylon Jones was bragging about his performance. "And the kid said--check this out, the kid said, 'I'm gonna suplex ya, Mr. Jones. That okay?' And I was like, 'Hell yeah, kid, suplex the shit outta me!' Ain't that awesome?" He beamed at all and sundry. "Who's got two thumbs and is the first wrestler to get suplexed by the future superstar of the DCW?" He jabbed both thumbs at his chest. "Killer Croc, that's who! Remember who put you over when you make the big times, kid!"
"You can't go off-script like that too often," John warned his son. Dick scuffed the ground with a foot. "But that was a brilliant suplex, son."
Dick bounced on his toes, his buoyant mood recovered. "Mr. Luthor says I can be in a real match against Mr. Jones soon! I hope Mr. Gambi can finish my new costume before then!"
"I believe you still owe all of us better skulkers a pizza, Kent," said Bruce. "And it's good for all of us to be seen in public together, since we're supposed to be a team." His smile turned a bit lopsided. "And I think I'd like to enjoy spending some time with--with all of you before my inevitable betrayal of my former compatriots."
"Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!" Harvey yelled, slapping him on the back. "Pop culture reference," he added at Bruce's blank look. "Forgot you don't get most of those, never mind."
"You guys are so cool," said Dick.
Clark couldn't help snorting. "You've been in the business a lot longer than I have!"
"Yeah, but..." Dick shifted from one foot to the other. "You're just cooler."
Clark smiled at him, remembering a young man of the same age, full of excitement and insecurity. "You want to come have some pizza with us?"
"Gosh!" Dick looked at his parents, who smiled and nodded. "That'd be great! Let me change and I'll be right back!"
"Hey, kid!" Dick paused and Bruce threw a spare JLI t-shirt at him. "This way you'll fit in better."
Dick beamed and ran off, clutching the shirt.
"Damn it," Barda grumbled. "Does this mean I don't get to have a beer with my pizza?"
"He grew up around wrestlers," Bruce said as they gathered up their stuff. "I'm pretty sure a couple of beers aren't going to faze him. Let's throw our bags in the car while he changes," he said. "Clark, will you stay here and let him know where we are?"
Clark tossed him a salute and they went off down the corridor, chatting. Heading back toward the locker room, he was passing by Lex Luthor's office when the door swung open and Otis Berg stumbled out, looking pale. "You're not going to talk to Luthor right now, are you?" When Clark shook his head, he sighed in relief. "He's busy chewing out Jenna--Ms Duffy. She does our stage work," he added to Clark's blank look. "Apparently her crew was too slow with the Graysons' harnesses," Otis said. "Almost screwed up the timing of the whole spot. Luthor's madder than a wet hen." He wiped his brow with a checkered handkerchief. "Let me tell you, I'm glad I'm only his kayfabe assistant. I don't know how that Graves woman manages it."
"'That Graves woman' manages it quite well, thank you," said an arctic voice, and Otis jumped as Mercy Graves came around the corner.
"S--S--Sorry, Ms Graves!" he stammered, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.
The door slammed open again, this time disgorging a woman in overalls and a utility belt slung with wrenches, drills, and levels. "Fine!" she yelled back into Luthor's office. "Go ahead and replace me with someone who works faster, see what kind of quality you get!"
"I can show you to the exit, Ms Duffy," Mercy said.
"I know my goddamn way," snarled the woman, and stomped off.
"I believe you both have places to be?" Mercy said to Clark and Otis as they stared after Jenna Duffy.
"Oh yes! Yes, of course!" Otis hurried away. Clark met Mercy's cold green eyes and decided it might be best to continue hunting for Dick Grayson.
By the time he'd tracked the excited teen down, he'd almost forgotten the conversation entirely.
: : :
Dinner was a raucous affair, with everyone competing to see who could order the most expensive toppings for their pizza while Clark complained strenuously. Dick asked an endless flow of questions, and the JLI wrestlers were more than happy to share their stories as he hung on every word.
"Excuse me?" The conversation stopped as a boy barely in his teens approached the table, his cell phone in his shaking hand. "Can--I was just wondering--I hate to bother you, but can--can I get a picture with--"
All the wrestlers at the table smiled indulgently.
"--with you?" the boy finished, gazing adoringly at Dick Grayson as if no one else was there at all.
"Oh, sure thing!" Dick hopped up from his seat, oblivious to the subtle deflation of his table-mates.
"I'm such a huge fan," the boy said as Bruce obligingly took their picture together, "This--this means the world to me."
"Thank you so much! Fans like you are the reason wrestling is fun," Dick said, with all the aplomb of a wrestler twice his age. He grabbed his napkin. "Let me sign something for you."
"You--you'd--" The boy looked like he might pass out.
"What's your name?"
The fan mumbled something too low for anyone but Dick to pick out, but Dick grinned and signed the napkin with a flourish. "To Tim, from Dick Grayson. Keep smiling!"
The boy--Tim, apparently--leaned close to Dick and whispered loudly, "You're not joining up with them, are you?"
"What, the JLI?" Tim nodded solemnly, looking down at Dick's chest. "Oh, the t-shirt. Nah, I'm just having some pizza, learning some tricks of the trade from them."
Tim looked dubious. "Be careful," he said, eyeing the other wrestlers warily before walking away, staring at his cell phone as if at the secrets of the universe.
"That would make an interesting angle," Bruce said thoughtfully. "Bright young star asserts his independence by teaming up with the troublemakers invading his boss's promotion? Great storyline."
Dick's face lit up. "Gosh, do you think--?" He broke off, his smile fading. "No, I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne, it would never work. I don't want to have to reject my parents, you know? I think I can make it on my own without seeming like I was stabbing them in the back."
Bruce took a bite of pizza: Clark had learned to read his expression (or lack thereof) fairly well by now, and there were hints of both disappointment and approval in the set of his jaw.
"I'm pretty sure you can too," said Bruce.
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( Chapter 18: Anger, Frustration, and Pain)