Heroes of the Squared Circle 49: Pitch Meeting
Title: Pitch Meeting
Relationship: Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Lex Luthor, Harvey Dent, Superboy, Joker
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 2000
Summary: Lex Luthor calls a meeting for the wrestlers in the tournament to pitch their story ideas and convince him they should be the champion.
I was beginning to understand why all my big brothers were involved in wrestling; the camaraderie, mutual respect and sense of belonging did wonders to mend lost and battered souls. --Bret Hart
“--and then, with the championship belt finally around my waist, I will turn to the audience and inform them that it’s all fake! The matches are rigged, the fights are choreographed--everything they love about wrestling is a huge work! As belt-holder, I will show up after matches and teach them how the wrestlers pulled their punches, how they landed just right, all those little tricks. I’ll call a random person out of the audience and walk them through it, show them how to pull it off. I’ll educate! Enlighten! As the new DCW champion, I will usher in a reign of full transparency and honesty in professional wrestling!”
Jack Napier threw his arms out rapturously, head tilted back to gaze at the ceiling. All the other wrestlers in the room stared at him in mute horror. At the head of the table, Lex Luthor was gazing at him stone-faced, one hand covering his mouth.
Clark had never seen him look so appalled.
“What’s with the sour faces?” said Napier as he realized his pitch wasn’t getting the reaction he wanted. “Come on, it would be hilarious! Imagine their reactions as I shattered their illusions, brought their dreams crashing to the ground. I’d be the biggest heel in wrestling history!” He rubbed his thin hands together and giggled. “It would be glorious.”
Luthor removed his hand from his mouth and spoke: “If you ever pull something like that, Napier, your contract will be confetti before you’re out of the ring.” Napier opened his mouth, but Luthor cut him off. “I brought you all here to pitch ideas for a championship run to me, not to bankrupt my damn company.” He made a disgusted face. “And I thought our usual bookers had bad ideas!” Waving at the rest of the wrestlers in the tournament, he went on, “Okay, there are seven more of you. One of you’ve got to have a better angle than that. Pitch it to me.”
“Well,” said El Dragón, “Since I’m going up against Killer Croc, I was thinking a David and Goliath story might be good. I was thinking a story about a small man overcoming great odds would be one the audience would like. And then as champion, I would like to promote literacy! I would like to be a face champion that focused on getting young people to read more!”
Now Luthor looked discouraged. “David and Goliath stories aren’t realistic,” he said. “No one believes in the power of heart over muscle. Not really, not down in their guts.”
Clark started to open his mouth and felt Bruce’s hand touch his wrist, very lightly: Not now.
Luthor went on: “Anyone got a more interesting storyline?”
“How about a storyline where the champion is stronger than everyone and crushes them like flies?” said Waylon Jones. “I like that story.”
Luthor rubbed at his face. “Maybe a little more complex than that.”
“I was thinking about stepping my gimmick up a notch,” said Copperhead, leaning forward. “I’ve been talking to a snake trainer, and I could develop psychic powers--” Billy Batson groaned loudly, and Copperhead flipped him off. “Shut up, Batson. Anyway, I could develop a psychic bond with snakes and start bringing a real one to the ring with me. You gotta admit that’d make for an awesome visual, right? Me with the belt and a snake wrapped around my waist?”
Luthor tilted his head to the side. “It’s got possibilities. Clear it with legal--I don’t want the ASPCA breathing down my neck--and see if you can bring a snake to work next week. We’ll cut a promo with you and Marvel and we’ll see how the crowd likes it.”
“Hey,” said Billy. He’d gone a bit pale. “I don’t like snakes, man.”
“Oh good,” said Copperhead with a grin. “That’ll make it easier for you to fake terror, right?”
“Uh,” said Billy. Looking back at Luthor, he crossed his arms. “You know the angle for me already. I’m the only former JLI champion in the DCW, so I deserve the belt. There’s lots of JLI fans out there, they’d love to see me win.”
There was a long, heavy silence as Luthor looked at Batson with one eyebrow raised and everyone remembered: Captain Marvel switching from the JLI to the DCW while still champion, dropping the JLI belt in the trash. “Yeah, fans love traitors,” someone mumbled quietly in the back--it might have been Scott Free.
Luthor turned to look at Two-Face and it was clear he was dismissing Batson out of hand--he wasn’t ever going to risk the belt on someone who might jump ship to another company. Clark glanced Billy’s stricken face and felt a brief, petty flash of satisfaction: that’s for Max Lord and Guy Gardner, and all the people you helped put out of work with your backstab.
“Harvey?” Luthor asked.
Harvey Dent tilted his chair back and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Pamela and I have been talking about pitching an angle where we date for a while, but she betrays me to run off with Harley. If I were champion, she’d have a lot more reason to pretend to be interested in me.”
“Hm,” said Luthor. “It’s got sex, mind games, betrayal...definite possibilities. I’ll schedule you for a promo with Poison Ivy this week before your match and we’ll see if it goes over.”
“Oh, it will,” said Isley with a smile from the back, and Clark could see her already plotting to turn the angle into a run on the women’s championship and end Wonder Woman’s record-breaking reign.
“Oh! Oh!” said Conner, waving his hand. “My turn! See, I’m the Kryptonian’s clone, but no one knows--”
Luthor shook his head and spoke over him. “Sorry, kid, you know you’re way too young to get the belt.”
But Conner charged on, “See, I think you should be my other parent.”
“You just don’t have the experience or--” Luthor stopped short as Conner’s words registered. “What?”
There were muffled giggles in the room at his expression. “Yeah!” said Conner. “We could work it around the Kryptonian’s face turn. I find out my dad’s actually a great guy, and I’m all thrilled--but what happens when I find out my other parent is evil incarnate? Uh, no offense.”
“None taken,” Luthor said.
“It’s a titanic ethical battle. Which side will win: good or evil? And can I transcend my genetics?”
“That’s…” Luthor paused. “That’s actually very interesting.”
“It is?” Conner looked delighted.
“Yes, it is. But not for the belt holder. Still, keep it in mind.”
“Yes, sir,” said Conner, clearly torn between being deflated at being shot down for the belt and elated that his angle might get approved.
“That just leaves me,” said Dick Grayson. “And I’ve got the best argument here and you know it.”
“Oh? Do tell,” drawled Luthor, sitting back and steepling his fingers.
“It’s the best story. I grew up in the business, the fans have watched me go from being a Flying Grayson to Robin to Nightwing to the Dark Knight. This is my chance to come into my own, step out from Bruce’s shadow and embrace who I truly am.”
Luthor slow-clapped three times. “And while your personal story is very touching, I don’t--”
Dick held up a hand. “I’m not finished. There’s more. Bruce is coming back soon, it makes no sense for me to hold the cowl much longer. If I take it off after losing in the tournament, it tarnishes the legacy and you know it. And it makes me look weak, like I gave it up out of disappointment rather than of my own free will. Or worse, like Bruce made me give it up. That’ll hurt both Nightwing and the Dark Knight. You need me to win this tournament in order to get Bruce’s return as over as possible and tell a story that’ll stay in peoples’ minds forever.”
Luthor looked at Dick and drummed his fingers together, his face expressionless.
Dick shrugged. “I could argue that I’m incredibly over with the fans right now, and they’d love to see a young, new high-flying champion, but you already know that and I don’t think you care. But for the sake of two gimmicks, I need to win this tournament and hold the belt.” He leveled a finger at Luthor. “And I think you know that, too.”
Luthor looked at him for a long moment in a very quiet room. Then he shrugged in turn. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he said, standing up in a way that made it clear the conference was over. “Oh, Kent,” he said as people started to file out. “I want to hear your pitch on that face turn tomorrow, got it? Make it good.”
“It’ll be great,” said Clark.
“That’s terrible and you know it,” Bruce snapped.
Clark kicked at a random dandelion which had the misfortune to be growing in front of his park bench, scowling down at it and ignoring the perfect blue sky. He’d insisted on getting outdoors for a change--it seemed like he spent his life going from hotel room to gym to auditorium and back--but his mood wasn’t as sunny as the weather.
“I told you, I won’t play the Kryptonian again.”
“So you’re just going to show up as this Superman guy with no explanation, nothing?” Bruce glared at a passing chihuahua, which gave him a goggle-eyed look back. “That would be a huge waste. We’ve laid so much groundwork for this turn, we’ve done so much preparation--”
“--The last time I wore that costume, you--” Clark felt the words choke in his throat. “And I had to stand there and mock you.”
He looked away at the screaming kids on a swingset, blinking hard. After a moment, to his surprise, Bruce put an arm around his shoulders, tugging him close. “You have to take the bad in life and make it good somehow, Clark. That’s why the Kryptonian has to have a face turn. All that suffering, all that negative energy, it’s up to us to turn that darkness to light.” He took Clark’s chin, turning his head toward him, and brought their foreheads together. “Life’s a heel, Clark. But that doesn’t mean we have to knuckle under to it. We’ll get that bastard in a submission hold yet.”
He was smiling, but his eyes were serious. Another jogger went by, casting a slightly curious look at the two men, and Clark started to pull back.
“That’s another thing we have to talk about,” said Bruce, not removing his arm from around Clark’s shoulders.
Clark sighed. “I know.”
“I’m not saying we need to make a press release or a formal announcement, but the locker room is starting to talk. If someone asks point-blank if we’re a couple…”
“I don’t want to lie,” said Clark. “Not about you. Not about this.”
“I don’t either,” said Bruce. “But I wanted to check with you before.” His arm tightened on Clark’s shoulder. “I know I’ve done a lot of lying and a lot of hiding in my life. But I won’t make any more unilateral decisions about us. Promise.”
“Maybe no one will ever ask and it won’t be an issue,” Clark said wistfully.
“Uh huh,” said Bruce. “Maybe wrestlers will give up their tendency to gossip overnight. That’d be nice.”
“Well it would,” said Clark.
“You’re such a babyface,” said Bruce. His smile was both wry and fond. “I’m going to kiss your babyface face right here in public, how about that?”
“Not if I kiss you firs--”
Relationship: Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Lex Luthor, Harvey Dent, Superboy, Joker
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 2000
Summary: Lex Luthor calls a meeting for the wrestlers in the tournament to pitch their story ideas and convince him they should be the champion.
I was beginning to understand why all my big brothers were involved in wrestling; the camaraderie, mutual respect and sense of belonging did wonders to mend lost and battered souls. --Bret Hart
“--and then, with the championship belt finally around my waist, I will turn to the audience and inform them that it’s all fake! The matches are rigged, the fights are choreographed--everything they love about wrestling is a huge work! As belt-holder, I will show up after matches and teach them how the wrestlers pulled their punches, how they landed just right, all those little tricks. I’ll call a random person out of the audience and walk them through it, show them how to pull it off. I’ll educate! Enlighten! As the new DCW champion, I will usher in a reign of full transparency and honesty in professional wrestling!”
Jack Napier threw his arms out rapturously, head tilted back to gaze at the ceiling. All the other wrestlers in the room stared at him in mute horror. At the head of the table, Lex Luthor was gazing at him stone-faced, one hand covering his mouth.
Clark had never seen him look so appalled.
“What’s with the sour faces?” said Napier as he realized his pitch wasn’t getting the reaction he wanted. “Come on, it would be hilarious! Imagine their reactions as I shattered their illusions, brought their dreams crashing to the ground. I’d be the biggest heel in wrestling history!” He rubbed his thin hands together and giggled. “It would be glorious.”
Luthor removed his hand from his mouth and spoke: “If you ever pull something like that, Napier, your contract will be confetti before you’re out of the ring.” Napier opened his mouth, but Luthor cut him off. “I brought you all here to pitch ideas for a championship run to me, not to bankrupt my damn company.” He made a disgusted face. “And I thought our usual bookers had bad ideas!” Waving at the rest of the wrestlers in the tournament, he went on, “Okay, there are seven more of you. One of you’ve got to have a better angle than that. Pitch it to me.”
“Well,” said El Dragón, “Since I’m going up against Killer Croc, I was thinking a David and Goliath story might be good. I was thinking a story about a small man overcoming great odds would be one the audience would like. And then as champion, I would like to promote literacy! I would like to be a face champion that focused on getting young people to read more!”
Now Luthor looked discouraged. “David and Goliath stories aren’t realistic,” he said. “No one believes in the power of heart over muscle. Not really, not down in their guts.”
Clark started to open his mouth and felt Bruce’s hand touch his wrist, very lightly: Not now.
Luthor went on: “Anyone got a more interesting storyline?”
“How about a storyline where the champion is stronger than everyone and crushes them like flies?” said Waylon Jones. “I like that story.”
Luthor rubbed at his face. “Maybe a little more complex than that.”
“I was thinking about stepping my gimmick up a notch,” said Copperhead, leaning forward. “I’ve been talking to a snake trainer, and I could develop psychic powers--” Billy Batson groaned loudly, and Copperhead flipped him off. “Shut up, Batson. Anyway, I could develop a psychic bond with snakes and start bringing a real one to the ring with me. You gotta admit that’d make for an awesome visual, right? Me with the belt and a snake wrapped around my waist?”
Luthor tilted his head to the side. “It’s got possibilities. Clear it with legal--I don’t want the ASPCA breathing down my neck--and see if you can bring a snake to work next week. We’ll cut a promo with you and Marvel and we’ll see how the crowd likes it.”
“Hey,” said Billy. He’d gone a bit pale. “I don’t like snakes, man.”
“Oh good,” said Copperhead with a grin. “That’ll make it easier for you to fake terror, right?”
“Uh,” said Billy. Looking back at Luthor, he crossed his arms. “You know the angle for me already. I’m the only former JLI champion in the DCW, so I deserve the belt. There’s lots of JLI fans out there, they’d love to see me win.”
There was a long, heavy silence as Luthor looked at Batson with one eyebrow raised and everyone remembered: Captain Marvel switching from the JLI to the DCW while still champion, dropping the JLI belt in the trash. “Yeah, fans love traitors,” someone mumbled quietly in the back--it might have been Scott Free.
Luthor turned to look at Two-Face and it was clear he was dismissing Batson out of hand--he wasn’t ever going to risk the belt on someone who might jump ship to another company. Clark glanced Billy’s stricken face and felt a brief, petty flash of satisfaction: that’s for Max Lord and Guy Gardner, and all the people you helped put out of work with your backstab.
“Harvey?” Luthor asked.
Harvey Dent tilted his chair back and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Pamela and I have been talking about pitching an angle where we date for a while, but she betrays me to run off with Harley. If I were champion, she’d have a lot more reason to pretend to be interested in me.”
“Hm,” said Luthor. “It’s got sex, mind games, betrayal...definite possibilities. I’ll schedule you for a promo with Poison Ivy this week before your match and we’ll see if it goes over.”
“Oh, it will,” said Isley with a smile from the back, and Clark could see her already plotting to turn the angle into a run on the women’s championship and end Wonder Woman’s record-breaking reign.
“Oh! Oh!” said Conner, waving his hand. “My turn! See, I’m the Kryptonian’s clone, but no one knows--”
Luthor shook his head and spoke over him. “Sorry, kid, you know you’re way too young to get the belt.”
But Conner charged on, “See, I think you should be my other parent.”
“You just don’t have the experience or--” Luthor stopped short as Conner’s words registered. “What?”
There were muffled giggles in the room at his expression. “Yeah!” said Conner. “We could work it around the Kryptonian’s face turn. I find out my dad’s actually a great guy, and I’m all thrilled--but what happens when I find out my other parent is evil incarnate? Uh, no offense.”
“None taken,” Luthor said.
“It’s a titanic ethical battle. Which side will win: good or evil? And can I transcend my genetics?”
“That’s…” Luthor paused. “That’s actually very interesting.”
“It is?” Conner looked delighted.
“Yes, it is. But not for the belt holder. Still, keep it in mind.”
“Yes, sir,” said Conner, clearly torn between being deflated at being shot down for the belt and elated that his angle might get approved.
“That just leaves me,” said Dick Grayson. “And I’ve got the best argument here and you know it.”
“Oh? Do tell,” drawled Luthor, sitting back and steepling his fingers.
“It’s the best story. I grew up in the business, the fans have watched me go from being a Flying Grayson to Robin to Nightwing to the Dark Knight. This is my chance to come into my own, step out from Bruce’s shadow and embrace who I truly am.”
Luthor slow-clapped three times. “And while your personal story is very touching, I don’t--”
Dick held up a hand. “I’m not finished. There’s more. Bruce is coming back soon, it makes no sense for me to hold the cowl much longer. If I take it off after losing in the tournament, it tarnishes the legacy and you know it. And it makes me look weak, like I gave it up out of disappointment rather than of my own free will. Or worse, like Bruce made me give it up. That’ll hurt both Nightwing and the Dark Knight. You need me to win this tournament in order to get Bruce’s return as over as possible and tell a story that’ll stay in peoples’ minds forever.”
Luthor looked at Dick and drummed his fingers together, his face expressionless.
Dick shrugged. “I could argue that I’m incredibly over with the fans right now, and they’d love to see a young, new high-flying champion, but you already know that and I don’t think you care. But for the sake of two gimmicks, I need to win this tournament and hold the belt.” He leveled a finger at Luthor. “And I think you know that, too.”
Luthor looked at him for a long moment in a very quiet room. Then he shrugged in turn. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he said, standing up in a way that made it clear the conference was over. “Oh, Kent,” he said as people started to file out. “I want to hear your pitch on that face turn tomorrow, got it? Make it good.”
“It’ll be great,” said Clark.
“That’s terrible and you know it,” Bruce snapped.
Clark kicked at a random dandelion which had the misfortune to be growing in front of his park bench, scowling down at it and ignoring the perfect blue sky. He’d insisted on getting outdoors for a change--it seemed like he spent his life going from hotel room to gym to auditorium and back--but his mood wasn’t as sunny as the weather.
“I told you, I won’t play the Kryptonian again.”
“So you’re just going to show up as this Superman guy with no explanation, nothing?” Bruce glared at a passing chihuahua, which gave him a goggle-eyed look back. “That would be a huge waste. We’ve laid so much groundwork for this turn, we’ve done so much preparation--”
“--The last time I wore that costume, you--” Clark felt the words choke in his throat. “And I had to stand there and mock you.”
He looked away at the screaming kids on a swingset, blinking hard. After a moment, to his surprise, Bruce put an arm around his shoulders, tugging him close. “You have to take the bad in life and make it good somehow, Clark. That’s why the Kryptonian has to have a face turn. All that suffering, all that negative energy, it’s up to us to turn that darkness to light.” He took Clark’s chin, turning his head toward him, and brought their foreheads together. “Life’s a heel, Clark. But that doesn’t mean we have to knuckle under to it. We’ll get that bastard in a submission hold yet.”
He was smiling, but his eyes were serious. Another jogger went by, casting a slightly curious look at the two men, and Clark started to pull back.
“That’s another thing we have to talk about,” said Bruce, not removing his arm from around Clark’s shoulders.
Clark sighed. “I know.”
“I’m not saying we need to make a press release or a formal announcement, but the locker room is starting to talk. If someone asks point-blank if we’re a couple…”
“I don’t want to lie,” said Clark. “Not about you. Not about this.”
“I don’t either,” said Bruce. “But I wanted to check with you before.” His arm tightened on Clark’s shoulder. “I know I’ve done a lot of lying and a lot of hiding in my life. But I won’t make any more unilateral decisions about us. Promise.”
“Maybe no one will ever ask and it won’t be an issue,” Clark said wistfully.
“Uh huh,” said Bruce. “Maybe wrestlers will give up their tendency to gossip overnight. That’d be nice.”
“Well it would,” said Clark.
“You’re such a babyface,” said Bruce. His smile was both wry and fond. “I’m going to kiss your babyface face right here in public, how about that?”
“Not if I kiss you firs--”