Heroes of the Squared Circle 40: Running the Gauntlet
Title: Running the Gauntlet
Relationship: Clark/Bruce
Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Bane, Dick Grayson, Brainiac
Continuity: Heroes of the Squared Circle, a DC/pro wrestling fusion ( click for notes and all chapters).
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG-13
Word Count 3500
Summary: Bruce prepares for the first of his two big matches against Bane, but his friends fear he may be spreading himself too thin...
I’m talking about the myth of the pioneer, the frontiersman, the cowboy, the lone ranger, the avenging comic-book superhero, able to change form in an instant, the myth of the self-made man, the man-on-the-make, the gambler, the gangster, and the gunslinger. What all of these mythopoeic figures of pop culture have in common is a deeply held American belief in rebirth, no matter how dangerous. --Thomas Hackett
Clark Kent presses the pause button. There. He skips back ten seconds, watches, presses pause again. There. Rewind once more. The figures on the screen go through their inexorable motions again, beyond regret, beyond redemption. There.
Alone in his hotel room, Clark watches the last ten seconds before the world fell apart again.
And again.
And again.
On the Jumbotron, a promotional package was running, talking about the great matches of the Dark Knight's history. "All around the world," intoned Clark Kent's solemn voice, "The Dark Knight has had victory after victory. Only once, on the tiny island of Santa Prisca--" Grainy footage started to run, as if from a hidden camera: Bane lifted the Dark Knight up and slammed him across his knee. "--Did the Dark Knight taste utter defeat. But beyond this one foe, none has proven able to stand for long against the champion, the--"
The video cut off abruptly in a crackle of static, leaving the auditorium plunged into darkness. The crowd murmured uneasily.
And then a low, ominous chuckle echoed through the blackness.
A ripple ran through the Miami crowd as the Jumbotron flickered to life again to reveal Bane's masked face, his low and deliberate chuckling laugh resonating through the auditorium.
"So, Dark Knight, we meet again."
In the middle of the ring, championship belt slung over his shoulder, the Dark Knight looked up at the visage of Bane and said nothing.
"When last we met in Santa Prisca, I beat you and sent you home like a dog with its tail between its legs. But I see that you have achieved some middling success in your home country. Does it gall you to know that I defeated you? Would you like a chance to prove your mettle against me once more? Well." The mask hid his expression, but there was a motion that might have indicated a smile. "I shall be in Gotham, your home town, in one month. I challenge you to face me."
"It would be my pleasure," the Dark Knight announced.
Bane had to wait until the delirious cheering died down, but he showed no sign of impatience. "But I do not believe that you are strong enough, worthy enough to face me. You must prove yourself, first. Fight three of the warriors of the DCW of my choice that night. If you survive the encounters, I shall meet you in a match with seconds of our choosing. I shall not need the help, but I suspect you will, and I am, after all, a merciful man." His voice was cold and pitiless.
"You must think me a fool, to fight a well-rested foe after three battles."
"You are already a fool, for daring to meet me in the ring." Bane shrugged. "But I am willing to run my own gauntlet, against any three of your pitiful so-called 'wrestlers' that you may choose."
"And if you lose?"
Bane managed to emote surprise through the mask. "I had not considered that possibility. Very well. If one of your number manages to defeat me, they shall become my second in the tag team match. Fair?"
"Fair enough."
"If you manage to defeat me with assistance, perhaps I shall consider facing you one on one in the ring at No Man's Land," he said, naming the next big pay-per-view. "But I warn you that if I do--" That dark chuckle again, "I shall break you, and bear home that pretty gold belt of yours to hang on my wall."
The symbol of the DCW to be taken away! The crowd booed lustily as the feed cut off. The challenge was issued. Now the wrestlers for the gauntlet and the seconds for the tag team match had to be decided.
Commenters on the message boards agreed: it was shaping up to be one of the most exciting pay-per-views in a long time.
Few of the passers-by gave more than a curious glance to the hugely muscular man in a full luchador mask sitting at a sidewalk cafe: the jaded denizens of New York City had seen weirder. Small children who did stop to gape earned themselves a mock-scary growl and then a tousled head. “I do not remove my mask on foreign soil,” Bane had said when Dick had suggested it. As a result, it was Dick, Bruce, and Clark who had to be incognito: Dick and Clark were wearing baseball caps pulled low over their faces, but Bruce had gone further and added a small, rakish mustache and was chewing on a matchstick.
“Three matches?” Clark frowned. “That’s a heavy schedule.”
Bruce made a dismissive noise. "The first one will be a short match against Firefly, the second a little longer against Zsasz. The third will be against Two-Face, and that'll be longer: gotta sell that the Dark Knight is at the end of his rope, utterly exhausted."
"OK," said Dick, "so who's facing Bane in his gauntlet?"
“My first opponent shall be this Jean Paul Valley who goes by Azrael. He is a man after my own heart and it is a shame I must defeat him so quickly. I have asked your Wonder Woman to be my third and final opponent, and she said it would be her pleasure," Bane said.
"A cross-sex match?" Dick sounded impressed. "We've never been able to convince Luthor to do much with those. But you and Diana should put on a good show."
Bane nodded solemnly. "She is a true warrior. And the middle opponent, the one I will lose to and be forced to team up with in the tag team match, is the Kryptonian."
"It makes perfect sense," said Bruce as Clark blinked in surprise. "The Dark Knight gets to choose Bane's opponents, so on the whole he's going to pick allies like Nightwing or Wonder Woman. But he knows the Kryptonian is a juggernaut, so it makes sense to put him up against Bane even though they're enemies."
"You are the key to the setup," Bane said. "The wild card, as you say in English. I lose to you in the second match due to interference by one of my well-meaning lackeys. And then in the tag team match you shall turn on me and cost me the win, setting up the final confrontation between Bane and the Dark Knight at No Man's Land.
“Wait,” said Clark, “If I backstab Bane, doesn’t that mean I--”
“--will be doing a face turn? Not necessarily,” said Bruce. He was grinning. “I mean, the Kryptonian has his own agenda, right? He can always decide that teaming up with a puny mortal like Bane--no offense,” he added to Bane.
“None taken,” Bane said calmly.
“--He can decide that teaming up with a puny mortal is beneath him, of course. But I’m hoping we can parlay that into a face turn eventually, yes.”
“That would be different,” said Clark, keeping his voice as cool as possible. He didn’t want to look too excited about the possibility of a face turn in front of Bane: after all, most wrestlers wanted to play heels, who were considered to have a wider range of character options. “Faces are dull,” Napier had complained once. “You just have to be good, good, good all the time. No variety.”
Clark disagreed: he thought his take on being a face could be different from Hal Jordan’s Green Lantern, who was different in turn from Diana's Wonder Woman. But maybe such nuances were lost on the stage, after all. Maybe--
“All right!” said Dick Grayson, punching the air. “Clark would be the best babyface ever!”
From just about anyone else, that could well have been a sarcastic statement to be taken as an insult. From Dick Grayson, though…
Bruce was smiling at Dick. “He would indeed,” he said.
“You are strange people,” announced Bane, picking up a cruller and taking a bite. “But I like you.”
“Yeah yeah, I know the routine,” said Milton Fine, stifling a yawn. “Am I going to get to do anything but make pronouncements for you this match? I can do that in my sleep by now.”
“Well, I’m going to turn on Bane at the end,” said Clark.
“Really?” Fine perked up a bit. “That could be interesting.”
“So I need you to talk a bit about how the Kryptonian doesn’t deign to work with lower life forms. If you feel up to it, Bane suggested he give you a chokeslam at the end.”
Fine beamed. “Fantastic! It’s about time I had a chance to take a bump. Seriously, Kent, I think I’ve got so much more in me than just to be the mouthpiece to a monster. I know everyone thinks I’m crazy, but--”
Clark clapped him on the back. Milton Fine’s desire to stop being a manager and start being a wrestler was legendary; most other wrestlers considered him delusional, but Clark had a feeling they were wrong. “I think you can do it. I’ve noticed you’ve been working out.”
“You have?” Fine practically glowed.
“I’m not sure a good word from me would mean much to Luthor, but if they ever break us up I’ll put in a word for you.”
“That’s really great of you,” said Fine, beaming. “I really think I could get more out of this Brainiac gimmick than just being a sideshow swindler, you know?” He shook his head. “It’s so strange how the Kryptonian is totally silent, but you inspire us all backstage. Thanks.”
And then he walked off, leaving Clark stunned into true speechlessness for a time.
“What the hell do you mean, I’m not ready?”
Bruce’s voice was an angry bark that turned a few heads in the nearly-empty gym, but Tim stood his ground. “I’ve been going over the recordings of your latest matches, and your reflexes are off,” he said. “You’re working yourself too hard. Tell him, guys.”
He looked imploringly at Clark and Dick, and they both nodded reluctantly. “He’s right, Bruce,” said Dick. “You’ve been wrestling every show without a break, you’ve been training Tim, you’ve been doing all the extra promos and outside work that come from holding the belt--it’s taking a toll.”
“And you’re planning on wrestling four matches at next week’s show?” Clark added.
“I told you, the first three are--”
“--Not serious matches, I know.” Clark struggled to keep his voice level. “But they’re still matches, and even thirty seconds in the ring takes something out of you. Wrestling Firefly, Zsasz, and Two-Face before you even reach Bane and the Kryptonian? It’s a recipe for disaster.”
“He must prove himself," Bane said, "As must I. You are not complaining about my three matches."
Only because he doesn't know you and is unwilling to risk offending you, Clark thought, watching Tim's face.
"It will be a magnificent match," Bane announced. "Setting up an even better match with just the two of us, a match for the ages. I do not plan to return to the States again. This will be my crowning achievement in this land, a story to tell for generations."
"Bruce's schedule is a punishing one," Clark said. "If he's not at peak physical condition--"
“I am at peak physical condition,” Bruce snarled. “A chance like this is never coming along again, I have to take it now. It’s a great story, and both matches are taking place in Gotham. The Dark Knight would never back down from a challenge to Gotham.”
“The Dark Knight is a character,” Tim blurted out. “You’re a real person, and you’re taking a stupid risk!”
Bruce’s face went closed, and Clark groaned inwardly, saw matching resignation on Dick’s face: they both knew that look, and it meant Bruce was never going to back down now.
“Let’s go over the finish,” Bruce said, turning away from Tim. “So Nightwing tags the Dark Knight back in for the last time, the Dark Knight and Bane go at it for a while--we can improvise all that--and then Bane pulls the backbreaker move and gets ready to pin the Dark Knight. Now--” He held up a finger, “--I know no one ever kicks out of that move, so that’s part of why the Kryptonian is going to turn on you.”
“You are a considerate opponent,” Bane said, and Bruce sketched a small bow in his direction.
“As you prepare for the pin--maybe you taunt the crowd for a moment, they should be screaming for your blood by now--the Kryptonian can attack you from behind. If I know my crowd, they should pop like crazy for the Kryptonian then.”
Clark nodded. To hear a crowd pop for him again--! It had been so long since he was met with anything over than boos.
Bruce shot him a quick, sympathetic look, and Clark knew he was aware of exactly what Clark was thinking. “You’ll probably just have to ignore them, but maybe not for much longer.”
“So this is where I get to yell about the Kryptonian not teaming up with Terran scum?” Milton Fine, who had wandered off diplomatically when Tim began to argue with Bruce, reappeared behind Bane.
“Actually, we need you to distract the referee while this is going on,” Bruce said. “That way he doesn’t see the Kryptonian attack Bane and doesn’t stop the match. Half-conscious, the Dark Knight staggers over and pins the unconscious Bane for the win. Then you can go into your ‘alien overlord’ routine until Bane rises up and chokeslams you in a fury.”
“Few not of Santa Prisca have had the honor of receiving a chokeslam from me,” Bane said to Fine, cracking his knuckles. “I hope you are up to it.”
Fine shrugged a little nervously. “Sure. No big deal.”
Bane chuckled darkly and Fine swallowed hard.
“Looks like a great match,” Bruce said briskly, still not looking at Tim. “Now I have to go over my match with Harvey. If you’ll excuse me…”
“Thanks for trying, guys,” said Tim as Bruce strode off, his voice glum.
“Sometimes all we can do is try,” Dick said, clapping him on the back.
“Clark?”
“Mmm?” He had thought Bruce was asleep at last, but his voice sounded alert and oddly nervous.
“Tomorrow night, the first match against Bane, in Gotham...Alfred said he’d be in the audience. He’s never come to a match of mine before. He--” Bruce broke off and Clark heard a small huff of a laugh. “He didn’t approve of my career choices.”
“Oh.” In the dark and silence, Clark took a deep breath, then said as casually as he could manage: “Maybe I could meet him after? If he’s not busy?”
A long leg hooked around his hip and dragged him close; he felt Bruce nuzzle at his neck. “He’d like that,” Bruce whispered. “And so would I.”
Clark held him close and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “You know I love you, right?” he said, but Bruce was already asleep, the muscles in his body going loose and limp, his breaths slow and regular against Clark’s skin.
“No, boss! I didn’t mean it! I swear!”
Bane had his henchman, Bird, by the collar and was hoisting him above the ring. ”You cost me the match, worm!” he thundered. “You meddling imbecile! How dare you presume that I needed assistance?”
“But he had you on the ropes, boss!” babbled Bird. And that Brainiac guy, he said you were doomed, and the Kryptonian was going to kill you, and I guess I just got carried away, because the next thing I knew I was climbing into the ring with that chair. I didn’t even see the ref looking at me, I swear!”
Bane growled, a low and feral sound that seemed to fill the hushed Gotham auditorium. Since the moment he had walked out onto the ramp to fight Nightwing the crowd had been uneasy, restless. As Bruce had predicted, when the Kryptonian was announced the winner they had cheered, but it was a nervous cheer: Bane was monster enough that the Kryptonian could only win by disqualification. What did this mean for the Dark Knight, exhausted and weary?
“I see,” Bane murmured, still holding Bird effortlessly in the air by one hand. “The little man, that Brainiac. He manipulated you. And now I must work with the Kryptonian against the Dark Knight. He is a clever one.”
“So it wasn’t my fault, right boss?”
“It was not your fault.” And with that Bane smashed Bird to the mat, limbs flopping. “You may continue to serve me.” He turned to the cameras, his masked face filling the Jumbotron. “And now I call on the last of the Dark Knight’s champions, this ‘Wonder Woman.’ Show yourself and fight me, warrior of the Amazons!”
The crowd roared in approval as Wonder Woman’s uplifting, disco-inflected theme music struck up and the Amazon herself stood at the top of the ramp, arms akimbo as fireworks went off around her.
“Sounds like a great match,” Clark said as he ruffled his hair into his reporter style for his interview.
“Of course it is,” said Bruce. “Diana always puts on the best show, and Bane won’t hold back with her a bit. It would be the highlight match of the night--if there wasn’t going to be one with you and me in it after.” He grinned at Clark. “Time to go out there and fight Two-Face,” he said cheerily, tossing his water bottle over. “Then get interviewed by Mr. Gloom and Doom.” He brushed a surreptitious kiss against his clenched knuckles and then mock-punched Clark in the mouth with it, a habit they’d gotten into over time while in crowded locker rooms and common rooms. Sometimes they just punched each other in the mouth.
They knew what it meant.
“Dark Knight, you know that Bane has sworn to break you, strip you of your championship belt and bring it back to Santa Prisca?”
The Dark Knight nodded, acknowledging Clark Kent’s rather rhetorical question without speaking. He was breathing as if he had a stitch in his side: kayfabe or reality?
“You survived the challenge by Firefly--”
“--I defeated him in thirty seconds, Kent,” growled the Dark Knight. “That’s quite a bit more than surviving.”
“But the match with Mr. Zsasz went on quite a bit longer, didn’t it? And he hit your ribs pretty hard with that Tally Mark punch.”
“I’m aware of that.” The Dark Knight put a hand to his side, his face contorting in a wince, quickly hidden. This Clark found reassuring: if he were truly in pain, Bruce would have never made such an obvious show of it.
“But you still went on to face your next challenger, Two-Face.”
“Harvey’s a tough opponent,” the Dark Knight admitted. “But I had to take him down, and I did.” A droplet of sweat trickled from under his cowl down the side of his face, and Clark frowned as he watched the cameras zoom in on it. Bruce’s physical control was always awe-inspiring, but surely even he couldn’t control his own sweat? How much of that labored breathing was acting, and how much of it was true exhaustion?
“And soon you’ll be facing Bane and the Kryptonian.”
“Not alone,” the Dark Knight pointed out. “Nightwing will be at my side. And I’m not sure the Kryptonian is really happy to be here,” he added with a brief almost-smile. “That might work in my favor.”
“Well,” said Clark. “Be careful out there tonight.” The Dark Knight started to turn away and Clark blurted out, “Hey.”
Bruce turned around and met his eyes.
“Seriously,” said Clark, “Be careful, okay?”
The Dark Knight inclined his head, turned in a swirl of cape, and vanished backstage.
“There you have it, DCW universe,” Clark said to the camera, veiling his worry with a dramatically “worried” expression, “The Dark Knight and Nightwing versus Bane and the Kryptonian--coming up at the end of the night! Will the caped crusader win, or will he be broken by Bane?”
The red light on the camera went off and Clark handed his mic to Jimmy, heading off to change into his black ruffled spandex and and red contacts, preparing to crush his lover on live television. For once, he thought, it was almost a relief to not have to talk, to just be silent and threatening.
There.
The recording is paused. The crowd is silent, frozen in time, their avid faces a blur behind the two figures, one lifted high above the head of the other.
The moment the world fell apart.
There.
Relationship: Clark/Bruce
Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Bane, Dick Grayson, Brainiac
Continuity: Heroes of the Squared Circle, a DC/pro wrestling fusion ( click for notes and all chapters).
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG-13
Word Count 3500
Summary: Bruce prepares for the first of his two big matches against Bane, but his friends fear he may be spreading himself too thin...
I’m talking about the myth of the pioneer, the frontiersman, the cowboy, the lone ranger, the avenging comic-book superhero, able to change form in an instant, the myth of the self-made man, the man-on-the-make, the gambler, the gangster, and the gunslinger. What all of these mythopoeic figures of pop culture have in common is a deeply held American belief in rebirth, no matter how dangerous. --Thomas Hackett
Clark Kent presses the pause button. There. He skips back ten seconds, watches, presses pause again. There. Rewind once more. The figures on the screen go through their inexorable motions again, beyond regret, beyond redemption. There.
Alone in his hotel room, Clark watches the last ten seconds before the world fell apart again.
And again.
And again.
On the Jumbotron, a promotional package was running, talking about the great matches of the Dark Knight's history. "All around the world," intoned Clark Kent's solemn voice, "The Dark Knight has had victory after victory. Only once, on the tiny island of Santa Prisca--" Grainy footage started to run, as if from a hidden camera: Bane lifted the Dark Knight up and slammed him across his knee. "--Did the Dark Knight taste utter defeat. But beyond this one foe, none has proven able to stand for long against the champion, the--"
The video cut off abruptly in a crackle of static, leaving the auditorium plunged into darkness. The crowd murmured uneasily.
And then a low, ominous chuckle echoed through the blackness.
A ripple ran through the Miami crowd as the Jumbotron flickered to life again to reveal Bane's masked face, his low and deliberate chuckling laugh resonating through the auditorium.
"So, Dark Knight, we meet again."
In the middle of the ring, championship belt slung over his shoulder, the Dark Knight looked up at the visage of Bane and said nothing.
"When last we met in Santa Prisca, I beat you and sent you home like a dog with its tail between its legs. But I see that you have achieved some middling success in your home country. Does it gall you to know that I defeated you? Would you like a chance to prove your mettle against me once more? Well." The mask hid his expression, but there was a motion that might have indicated a smile. "I shall be in Gotham, your home town, in one month. I challenge you to face me."
"It would be my pleasure," the Dark Knight announced.
Bane had to wait until the delirious cheering died down, but he showed no sign of impatience. "But I do not believe that you are strong enough, worthy enough to face me. You must prove yourself, first. Fight three of the warriors of the DCW of my choice that night. If you survive the encounters, I shall meet you in a match with seconds of our choosing. I shall not need the help, but I suspect you will, and I am, after all, a merciful man." His voice was cold and pitiless.
"You must think me a fool, to fight a well-rested foe after three battles."
"You are already a fool, for daring to meet me in the ring." Bane shrugged. "But I am willing to run my own gauntlet, against any three of your pitiful so-called 'wrestlers' that you may choose."
"And if you lose?"
Bane managed to emote surprise through the mask. "I had not considered that possibility. Very well. If one of your number manages to defeat me, they shall become my second in the tag team match. Fair?"
"Fair enough."
"If you manage to defeat me with assistance, perhaps I shall consider facing you one on one in the ring at No Man's Land," he said, naming the next big pay-per-view. "But I warn you that if I do--" That dark chuckle again, "I shall break you, and bear home that pretty gold belt of yours to hang on my wall."
The symbol of the DCW to be taken away! The crowd booed lustily as the feed cut off. The challenge was issued. Now the wrestlers for the gauntlet and the seconds for the tag team match had to be decided.
Commenters on the message boards agreed: it was shaping up to be one of the most exciting pay-per-views in a long time.
Few of the passers-by gave more than a curious glance to the hugely muscular man in a full luchador mask sitting at a sidewalk cafe: the jaded denizens of New York City had seen weirder. Small children who did stop to gape earned themselves a mock-scary growl and then a tousled head. “I do not remove my mask on foreign soil,” Bane had said when Dick had suggested it. As a result, it was Dick, Bruce, and Clark who had to be incognito: Dick and Clark were wearing baseball caps pulled low over their faces, but Bruce had gone further and added a small, rakish mustache and was chewing on a matchstick.
“Three matches?” Clark frowned. “That’s a heavy schedule.”
Bruce made a dismissive noise. "The first one will be a short match against Firefly, the second a little longer against Zsasz. The third will be against Two-Face, and that'll be longer: gotta sell that the Dark Knight is at the end of his rope, utterly exhausted."
"OK," said Dick, "so who's facing Bane in his gauntlet?"
“My first opponent shall be this Jean Paul Valley who goes by Azrael. He is a man after my own heart and it is a shame I must defeat him so quickly. I have asked your Wonder Woman to be my third and final opponent, and she said it would be her pleasure," Bane said.
"A cross-sex match?" Dick sounded impressed. "We've never been able to convince Luthor to do much with those. But you and Diana should put on a good show."
Bane nodded solemnly. "She is a true warrior. And the middle opponent, the one I will lose to and be forced to team up with in the tag team match, is the Kryptonian."
"It makes perfect sense," said Bruce as Clark blinked in surprise. "The Dark Knight gets to choose Bane's opponents, so on the whole he's going to pick allies like Nightwing or Wonder Woman. But he knows the Kryptonian is a juggernaut, so it makes sense to put him up against Bane even though they're enemies."
"You are the key to the setup," Bane said. "The wild card, as you say in English. I lose to you in the second match due to interference by one of my well-meaning lackeys. And then in the tag team match you shall turn on me and cost me the win, setting up the final confrontation between Bane and the Dark Knight at No Man's Land.
“Wait,” said Clark, “If I backstab Bane, doesn’t that mean I--”
“--will be doing a face turn? Not necessarily,” said Bruce. He was grinning. “I mean, the Kryptonian has his own agenda, right? He can always decide that teaming up with a puny mortal like Bane--no offense,” he added to Bane.
“None taken,” Bane said calmly.
“--He can decide that teaming up with a puny mortal is beneath him, of course. But I’m hoping we can parlay that into a face turn eventually, yes.”
“That would be different,” said Clark, keeping his voice as cool as possible. He didn’t want to look too excited about the possibility of a face turn in front of Bane: after all, most wrestlers wanted to play heels, who were considered to have a wider range of character options. “Faces are dull,” Napier had complained once. “You just have to be good, good, good all the time. No variety.”
Clark disagreed: he thought his take on being a face could be different from Hal Jordan’s Green Lantern, who was different in turn from Diana's Wonder Woman. But maybe such nuances were lost on the stage, after all. Maybe--
“All right!” said Dick Grayson, punching the air. “Clark would be the best babyface ever!”
From just about anyone else, that could well have been a sarcastic statement to be taken as an insult. From Dick Grayson, though…
Bruce was smiling at Dick. “He would indeed,” he said.
“You are strange people,” announced Bane, picking up a cruller and taking a bite. “But I like you.”
“Yeah yeah, I know the routine,” said Milton Fine, stifling a yawn. “Am I going to get to do anything but make pronouncements for you this match? I can do that in my sleep by now.”
“Well, I’m going to turn on Bane at the end,” said Clark.
“Really?” Fine perked up a bit. “That could be interesting.”
“So I need you to talk a bit about how the Kryptonian doesn’t deign to work with lower life forms. If you feel up to it, Bane suggested he give you a chokeslam at the end.”
Fine beamed. “Fantastic! It’s about time I had a chance to take a bump. Seriously, Kent, I think I’ve got so much more in me than just to be the mouthpiece to a monster. I know everyone thinks I’m crazy, but--”
Clark clapped him on the back. Milton Fine’s desire to stop being a manager and start being a wrestler was legendary; most other wrestlers considered him delusional, but Clark had a feeling they were wrong. “I think you can do it. I’ve noticed you’ve been working out.”
“You have?” Fine practically glowed.
“I’m not sure a good word from me would mean much to Luthor, but if they ever break us up I’ll put in a word for you.”
“That’s really great of you,” said Fine, beaming. “I really think I could get more out of this Brainiac gimmick than just being a sideshow swindler, you know?” He shook his head. “It’s so strange how the Kryptonian is totally silent, but you inspire us all backstage. Thanks.”
And then he walked off, leaving Clark stunned into true speechlessness for a time.
“What the hell do you mean, I’m not ready?”
Bruce’s voice was an angry bark that turned a few heads in the nearly-empty gym, but Tim stood his ground. “I’ve been going over the recordings of your latest matches, and your reflexes are off,” he said. “You’re working yourself too hard. Tell him, guys.”
He looked imploringly at Clark and Dick, and they both nodded reluctantly. “He’s right, Bruce,” said Dick. “You’ve been wrestling every show without a break, you’ve been training Tim, you’ve been doing all the extra promos and outside work that come from holding the belt--it’s taking a toll.”
“And you’re planning on wrestling four matches at next week’s show?” Clark added.
“I told you, the first three are--”
“--Not serious matches, I know.” Clark struggled to keep his voice level. “But they’re still matches, and even thirty seconds in the ring takes something out of you. Wrestling Firefly, Zsasz, and Two-Face before you even reach Bane and the Kryptonian? It’s a recipe for disaster.”
“He must prove himself," Bane said, "As must I. You are not complaining about my three matches."
Only because he doesn't know you and is unwilling to risk offending you, Clark thought, watching Tim's face.
"It will be a magnificent match," Bane announced. "Setting up an even better match with just the two of us, a match for the ages. I do not plan to return to the States again. This will be my crowning achievement in this land, a story to tell for generations."
"Bruce's schedule is a punishing one," Clark said. "If he's not at peak physical condition--"
“I am at peak physical condition,” Bruce snarled. “A chance like this is never coming along again, I have to take it now. It’s a great story, and both matches are taking place in Gotham. The Dark Knight would never back down from a challenge to Gotham.”
“The Dark Knight is a character,” Tim blurted out. “You’re a real person, and you’re taking a stupid risk!”
Bruce’s face went closed, and Clark groaned inwardly, saw matching resignation on Dick’s face: they both knew that look, and it meant Bruce was never going to back down now.
“Let’s go over the finish,” Bruce said, turning away from Tim. “So Nightwing tags the Dark Knight back in for the last time, the Dark Knight and Bane go at it for a while--we can improvise all that--and then Bane pulls the backbreaker move and gets ready to pin the Dark Knight. Now--” He held up a finger, “--I know no one ever kicks out of that move, so that’s part of why the Kryptonian is going to turn on you.”
“You are a considerate opponent,” Bane said, and Bruce sketched a small bow in his direction.
“As you prepare for the pin--maybe you taunt the crowd for a moment, they should be screaming for your blood by now--the Kryptonian can attack you from behind. If I know my crowd, they should pop like crazy for the Kryptonian then.”
Clark nodded. To hear a crowd pop for him again--! It had been so long since he was met with anything over than boos.
Bruce shot him a quick, sympathetic look, and Clark knew he was aware of exactly what Clark was thinking. “You’ll probably just have to ignore them, but maybe not for much longer.”
“So this is where I get to yell about the Kryptonian not teaming up with Terran scum?” Milton Fine, who had wandered off diplomatically when Tim began to argue with Bruce, reappeared behind Bane.
“Actually, we need you to distract the referee while this is going on,” Bruce said. “That way he doesn’t see the Kryptonian attack Bane and doesn’t stop the match. Half-conscious, the Dark Knight staggers over and pins the unconscious Bane for the win. Then you can go into your ‘alien overlord’ routine until Bane rises up and chokeslams you in a fury.”
“Few not of Santa Prisca have had the honor of receiving a chokeslam from me,” Bane said to Fine, cracking his knuckles. “I hope you are up to it.”
Fine shrugged a little nervously. “Sure. No big deal.”
Bane chuckled darkly and Fine swallowed hard.
“Looks like a great match,” Bruce said briskly, still not looking at Tim. “Now I have to go over my match with Harvey. If you’ll excuse me…”
“Thanks for trying, guys,” said Tim as Bruce strode off, his voice glum.
“Sometimes all we can do is try,” Dick said, clapping him on the back.
“Clark?”
“Mmm?” He had thought Bruce was asleep at last, but his voice sounded alert and oddly nervous.
“Tomorrow night, the first match against Bane, in Gotham...Alfred said he’d be in the audience. He’s never come to a match of mine before. He--” Bruce broke off and Clark heard a small huff of a laugh. “He didn’t approve of my career choices.”
“Oh.” In the dark and silence, Clark took a deep breath, then said as casually as he could manage: “Maybe I could meet him after? If he’s not busy?”
A long leg hooked around his hip and dragged him close; he felt Bruce nuzzle at his neck. “He’d like that,” Bruce whispered. “And so would I.”
Clark held him close and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “You know I love you, right?” he said, but Bruce was already asleep, the muscles in his body going loose and limp, his breaths slow and regular against Clark’s skin.
“No, boss! I didn’t mean it! I swear!”
Bane had his henchman, Bird, by the collar and was hoisting him above the ring. ”You cost me the match, worm!” he thundered. “You meddling imbecile! How dare you presume that I needed assistance?”
“But he had you on the ropes, boss!” babbled Bird. And that Brainiac guy, he said you were doomed, and the Kryptonian was going to kill you, and I guess I just got carried away, because the next thing I knew I was climbing into the ring with that chair. I didn’t even see the ref looking at me, I swear!”
Bane growled, a low and feral sound that seemed to fill the hushed Gotham auditorium. Since the moment he had walked out onto the ramp to fight Nightwing the crowd had been uneasy, restless. As Bruce had predicted, when the Kryptonian was announced the winner they had cheered, but it was a nervous cheer: Bane was monster enough that the Kryptonian could only win by disqualification. What did this mean for the Dark Knight, exhausted and weary?
“I see,” Bane murmured, still holding Bird effortlessly in the air by one hand. “The little man, that Brainiac. He manipulated you. And now I must work with the Kryptonian against the Dark Knight. He is a clever one.”
“So it wasn’t my fault, right boss?”
“It was not your fault.” And with that Bane smashed Bird to the mat, limbs flopping. “You may continue to serve me.” He turned to the cameras, his masked face filling the Jumbotron. “And now I call on the last of the Dark Knight’s champions, this ‘Wonder Woman.’ Show yourself and fight me, warrior of the Amazons!”
The crowd roared in approval as Wonder Woman’s uplifting, disco-inflected theme music struck up and the Amazon herself stood at the top of the ramp, arms akimbo as fireworks went off around her.
“Sounds like a great match,” Clark said as he ruffled his hair into his reporter style for his interview.
“Of course it is,” said Bruce. “Diana always puts on the best show, and Bane won’t hold back with her a bit. It would be the highlight match of the night--if there wasn’t going to be one with you and me in it after.” He grinned at Clark. “Time to go out there and fight Two-Face,” he said cheerily, tossing his water bottle over. “Then get interviewed by Mr. Gloom and Doom.” He brushed a surreptitious kiss against his clenched knuckles and then mock-punched Clark in the mouth with it, a habit they’d gotten into over time while in crowded locker rooms and common rooms. Sometimes they just punched each other in the mouth.
They knew what it meant.
“Dark Knight, you know that Bane has sworn to break you, strip you of your championship belt and bring it back to Santa Prisca?”
The Dark Knight nodded, acknowledging Clark Kent’s rather rhetorical question without speaking. He was breathing as if he had a stitch in his side: kayfabe or reality?
“You survived the challenge by Firefly--”
“--I defeated him in thirty seconds, Kent,” growled the Dark Knight. “That’s quite a bit more than surviving.”
“But the match with Mr. Zsasz went on quite a bit longer, didn’t it? And he hit your ribs pretty hard with that Tally Mark punch.”
“I’m aware of that.” The Dark Knight put a hand to his side, his face contorting in a wince, quickly hidden. This Clark found reassuring: if he were truly in pain, Bruce would have never made such an obvious show of it.
“But you still went on to face your next challenger, Two-Face.”
“Harvey’s a tough opponent,” the Dark Knight admitted. “But I had to take him down, and I did.” A droplet of sweat trickled from under his cowl down the side of his face, and Clark frowned as he watched the cameras zoom in on it. Bruce’s physical control was always awe-inspiring, but surely even he couldn’t control his own sweat? How much of that labored breathing was acting, and how much of it was true exhaustion?
“And soon you’ll be facing Bane and the Kryptonian.”
“Not alone,” the Dark Knight pointed out. “Nightwing will be at my side. And I’m not sure the Kryptonian is really happy to be here,” he added with a brief almost-smile. “That might work in my favor.”
“Well,” said Clark. “Be careful out there tonight.” The Dark Knight started to turn away and Clark blurted out, “Hey.”
Bruce turned around and met his eyes.
“Seriously,” said Clark, “Be careful, okay?”
The Dark Knight inclined his head, turned in a swirl of cape, and vanished backstage.
“There you have it, DCW universe,” Clark said to the camera, veiling his worry with a dramatically “worried” expression, “The Dark Knight and Nightwing versus Bane and the Kryptonian--coming up at the end of the night! Will the caped crusader win, or will he be broken by Bane?”
The red light on the camera went off and Clark handed his mic to Jimmy, heading off to change into his black ruffled spandex and and red contacts, preparing to crush his lover on live television. For once, he thought, it was almost a relief to not have to talk, to just be silent and threatening.
There.
The recording is paused. The crowd is silent, frozen in time, their avid faces a blur behind the two figures, one lifted high above the head of the other.
The moment the world fell apart.
There.