Work Text:
Several Years Before The Battle
"Superman's weakness," Batman said, motioning to the green rock encased in radiation proof glass, "Is well known and also rare."
"Not rare enough," Superman replied, smiling slightly, "Seems like every other week someone is jumping out at me with another piece of my broken planet. Drawbacks of being an illegal alien, I suppose, your greatest weakness is a green card."
That draws a slight chuckle out of Wonder Woman, running her hand through her dark hair.
"Not to upstage boy wonder here, but what did you find for me?" She asks, tilting her head. "Last time we did this you had nothing."
"You bite off a lot when you commit yourself." Batman replies, "Like our friend the Flash over there who just had to stop himself from choking on the sandwich he brought. You can't be everywhere at once, you can't save everyone no matter how hard you try. So, not so much a defeat scenario but a stalemate."
"And you?" The Flash asks, taking another giant bite out of his sub, "What's your weakness?"
"Super-men." Batman replies, wryly, "My body armor is strong, but it is only earth material, unless Superman wants to bring me back something stronger. I'm good at what I do, but I am, after all, a guy in a batsuit."
Gotham City, Present Time
Super-men had been Batman's answer, and it appears someone had listened.
Superman's eyes glow red as parts of Gotham burn, his muscles flexing as his arms come up, inhaling as he aims his next lazer blast towards the buildings.
The green kryptonite… hadn't worked. Superman's hands had glowed black as he caught the kryptonite, and he ate the chunk like an apple. Batman had heard the crunching from where he was, and knew then… well.
Gotham didn't have much choice, but neither did he.
If he would not stand up to the gods, what right did he have to expect Gotham, or even the rest of the world to stand up to systemic change? Wasn't that the core of the issue, really, that everything seemed too immobile for change to happen?
And if he died here, who would pressure Gotham into actually rebuilding their city? Gotham used to be a city built on innovation until people, partly like his parents and their friends, robbed Gotham of their innovation, of their wealth. They would leave Gotham to rebuild as a shanty town if Batman died here. Nothing but a whisper, an annotation in history.
There were very few times that Batman has rethought being the Batman, and while he doesn't regret it, right now he feels like he did when he saw his parents die, and not as the symbol of fear he had made himself to be for some time.
What is a man to a god?
Something explodes, and the wall Batman is behind shatters.
So he runs.
Six months before Gotham Falls
Clark Kent's arms were strong, and the blue of his eyes behind his glasses were charming. The first words Clark Kent had said to Bruce Wayne were…
"I never expected to see you without your mask."
It had given Bruce a bit of a thrill, really, had made him forget for a moment that they were at a masquerade ball, though Clark had to use a mask on a stick because of his glasses.
As for Bruce, he had gone off on his own, out into the open air and taken off the feathers that surrounded his face. Feathers. Ridiculous really. He preferred masks that didn't tickle him but it was expected.
It had started out as small talk.
"You're a journalist aren't you?"
"Yes, the Daily Planet."
"Here for a story?"
"I suppose so, someone has to tell Metropolis about the goings on about the rich in Gotham."
"Naturally. I suppose I had better put on a show then."
It had evolved into them dancing chest to chest, Bruce finding himself short in comparison to the broad chested Clark.
No one was watching them, by then. The fireworks had started, filling the night sky with stars that shined brighter than the heavens.
Present Day
Superman exploded another water tower, the evaporating droplets shimmering for a moment in the ruins of the fire. Finally, his arms like steel beams close around Batman's chest, and it is all he can do to scramble for a flash bomb and temporarily blind Superman.
It isn't enough.
Superman is after him like a terminator, impassive, deadly. All he sees is the costume of the Batman, and the Batman can hear the feed of whoever is controlling him.
Kill the Bat.
Superman has been resisting, of course he has. Superman and the Flash were tied for speed, and if Superman had wanted to…
Well, Batman didn't have to speculate on that much longer. A kick to the stomach. A punch to the face, knocking him to the ground.
His cowl was broken.
2 Months Before The End
Bruce Wayne, the Batman was known as the world's greatest detective.
He had known for some time that Superman and Clark Kent were the same person, mostly because Clark Kent couldn't help but cracking the same jokes nearly word for word.
Though, maybe that was because Clark also knew who Bruce was.
It hadn't meant to be a romance, but Bruce hadn't imagined Superman to be so charming when he wasn't being Superman. He hadn't expected Clark to care so much, to actually be so invested with the civil side of being a hero.
In some ways, Bruce Wayne was the mask to him, but Clark? He was the man that Superman was fine living as. The ordinary life that Bruce wanted, but was too famous to have.
Lying on the ground, bleeding to death by the wounds given by Superman, that hardly seemed so important now.
What privilege was there to dying? He had been slaughtered like a dog in the end.
The red slowly fades from Superman's eyes.
He sinks to his knees and vomits, his sick glowing radioactive green.
"See?" Bruce chokes out, trying not to let the blood in his lungs hinder his words, "I knew I could stop you if I had too."
Clark Kent holds his hands out for Bruce Wayne's.
They lie under the fire soaked night, hand in hand.
After The End
They came to in the Justice League's recovery ward, Alfred gently dabbing at Bruce Wayne's face.
"Now that you've destroyed half of Gotham, don't you think you two have something to say to each other?" Alfred asks, glancing at Clark sitting up, holding his head.
Bruce nods, turning to look at him.
"Looks like a green card doesn't have much of an effect on you after all." He says.
Clark Kent smiles slowly.
"The benefits of being adopted in a rural town, I suppose." He admits, his dimples showing, "No one really cared about where I came from, just were happy for my mom."