The DCFutures Fan Fiction Group recognizes that Batman, Neron, and all related characters are the property of DC Comics. These stories are written for no profit, but rather a strong desire to peer into the future of the DCU. The stories and concepts presented herein, however, are property of the author. So there. Nyah Nyah! **** Irresponsible. The word wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard Tim tried to make it. It’s what he was, though, according to the unwitting testimony of the dozens of people who knew him intimately, and even some who didn’t… Everyone thought he was a grandstanding jester with no real purpose to serve… even Clark thought he was... questionably able. But they were right. Tim was irresponsible, and now it had gotten an innocent… man in a situation Tim would only allow himself to comprehend on the most basic of levels. He had inadvertently sent Alfred to Hell. He wished for a challenge, and the midget served up the devil on a platter – with the ultimate challenge, Tim’s very way of life as a playboy, as a citizen, and as Batman… or his soul. It was a challenge so great, Alfred had sacrificed himself to keep Tim from facing it. Shame washed over Tim. He treated Alfred as a sentient bit of property… when he was as much a man as any other, in spirit. Looking at the sky beyond the smoky dome of the Batmobile, Tim promised swore to be all that he was expected to be. “I’ll make it right, Alfred. I promise.” **** BATMAN: DCF #40 **** By Erik Burnham (erik@brainerdonline.com) **** BATMAN created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger **** “The Devil and Mr. Drake” **** Xanadu. Her kiss took away his confusion and pain, sending him into worlds the likes of which he’d not explored in either of his previous lives. Her skin was so soft, her eyes… so hypnotic. Her… Wait. She stopped. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked, half a smile on his face. Please, God, don’t tell me I’ve forgotten how to… what was she staring at? “GEEZ!” In the doorway, arms crossed, was a living shadow that bore a scowl and a sense of urgency that scared Boston Brand right off the bed. “We need to talk,” the Batman said to Xanadu, ignoring Boston completely. “Excuse me!” Boston quipped. “We were busy!” “Busy.” Batman grunted, holding Boston in a cold gaze. “It. Can. Wait.” **** “So your friend is in Hell.” Xanadu said, sipping an herbal tea. Boston was across the table, angrily tapping his foot, still upset. And Timothy, Xanadu noted, remained half hidden in the corner shadows, quite unlike himself. “Yes.” “Couldn’t you have at least waited five minutes?” “Who is this?” Batman finally asked. “You remember your meeting with the Reaper, Timothy? This is Boston Brand.” “The spook.” “Right.” “Will you two quit talking about me like I’m not here? It’s just a little too familiar for my tastes.” “I need to save Alfred. Xanadu, I need your help.” “I can’t help you, Timothy. It’s beyond me.” “Xanadu, you have to help me.” “And why is that, Timothy?” For the first time since he’d known her, Xanadu raised her voice and resembled for once a real woman, as opposed to some otherworldly sprite that was all about mystique. “You’re completely--” “…Opposed to anything in this world that requires me to exhibit any patience with myself or anyone else. I demand immediate gratification and expect to give little or nothing in return.” Batman finished in an impassive monotone, recalling the truth the imp showed him. In a better mood, Tim would have appreciated finally surprising Xanadu. “Wow,” Boston said, breaking the silence. “He can read minds.” “Believe me when I tell you I’m sorry. I have to do this, now will you help me, or won’t you?” “You don’t understand, Timothy. I can’t help you. Not won’t… this is beyond me.” A sigh of frustration passed the Batman’s lips. “Who then?” “Well, now.” Boston smiled. “That would be me.” **** Jon Isaacs woke up in a pool of sweat; the room was too warm. There was a bright light on him… that was warm, too… “What…?” His arms and legs were bound. “**COUGH** So pleased that you’re awake, commissioner. How are you feeling?” “Like hell. Who are you?” Keep calm, Jon. That’s how things work themselves out. Calm. “I’m anybody. I’m everybody. I’m you, instead of me.” “Tell me you’re not the Riddler.” “HA**COUGH** Oh, I’m sorry, about your carpet.” Jon looked at his own cockeyed smile. “I need access codes. And let’s be quick about it, I’m due back in your office in a half an hour.” “You can go to--” **** “—Hell is not a choice getaway spot, man. Believe me, I’ve been there.” Boston said. “Are you sure it’s worth it?” “He saved my life, I can’t let it go at that.” “Must REALLY be hard to find good help these days, then. Okay, I have a way down, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.” “You’re talking as if there’s an enjoyable way to go about this.” “Touche,” Boston smiled briefly. “Do you trust me?” “Yes.” “No, you don’t. Nice, huh? Little trick I picked up. You don’t trust me, but you need to – because what we have to do here is going to require trust… and may very well kill you.” “Timothy,” Xanadu spoke up. “You should consider this.” “There’s nothing to consider.” “I’d say getting stuck in Hell for an eternity to save some robot? There’s some things to consider there.” “He’s not a robot. What do you need me to do?” **** “Kylie Roarke? I’m Paul Chandler.” Both were surprised at the strength of the others’ grip, considering. “I’m glad to see you back, detective,” Paul said, trying not to stare. “And I’m sorry about your husband--” [Kylie’s husband was killed by the druglord Tuesday.] “I’ve heard enough apologies to last me a lifetime,” Kylie said, stopping Paul short. “Right now, I just want to get on with my job.” Kylie sat at her desk and opened her workstation before a realization clicked into place. “Chandler?” “Yeah. Paul, actually. Partner.” “Excuse me?” “Partner. Jon matched me with you – we’re taking his place for the other, and… you look like you’re about to say ‘I don’t work with a partner’ and make like a cop from the old action movies.” “That doesn’t happen in the real world,” Kylie shrugged, returning her attention to her workstation. “Pleased to meet you.” **** Tim felt queasy. Really, really queasy, like that feeling of floating you have on the cusp of waking from a deep sleep, right before you ‘fall’ back into your body and realize your consciousness. ‘When you get down there,’ Tim could remember Boston saying. ‘Don’t expect your stereotypical fire and brimstone, all right? This is the nasty place. You’ll only be partially affected because you’re a gatecrasher, but the longer you’re there the worse its going to get until you’re a permanent addition. Don’t slow up. I don’t know what you’re going to see, personally, but my bet is Neron’s going to do his best to push you back – either force you out or force you in. You’ll probably have to face your greatest…’ Tim stopped listening to the spook at that point and prepared himself for the journey; now that he had arrived, he’d wished he had listened a bit more carefully. Close your eyes. Think. Pray. What would The Batman do here? Well, beyond the fact that the real Batman wouldn’t be here in the first place because there would be no need, as there would be no colossal screw up… but that’s beside the point. First off, he’d open his eyes. And then he’d see the field, the small house, the trees equipped with swings, and the dog lying on the porch. Tim remembered this place… it was in Connecticut. It was his uncle’s house; he had last seen it when he was eight years old – summertime, not long before the start of school. The small cottage was almost exactly as Tim remembered it, with two small exceptions. Most notably, there were no doors or windows that could be seen… there was no visible entrance or exit to the house save for the other abnormality: a chimney that had definitely not been there before. Cautiously, the Batman maneuvered his way around the house, looking for something, anything. This was a problem that didn’t present an immediate solution for him: Hell indeed. That’s when the screaming began, mixing with a crashing and clatter from inside the house. It was a woman’s scream: and not just any woman; he knew the voice right away. …It was his mother. **** “I don’t like this – not at all.” Boston Brand muttered, standing over the barely-alive body of the Batman. “I don’t care what you taught him when he was a kid, or how well he dealt with it before; he’s not a mage, he’s not even…” “What happens when he succeeds?” “When? If! Look, our guy here, I took a peek inside his melon – just using a few limited tricks of the trade. Weird, okay? Messed up. I’m still kicking myself for agreeing to send him to a place he shouldn’t be going!” “If you truly looked, Boston, you would know that there is more to Timothy than he presents to the world.” “Xanadu, baby, with all due respect… that and a dollar will get him a cup of coffee.” **** Clayface heard the door to Commissioner Isaacs’ office opening, and looked up with his borrowed face to see… “What can I do for you, Detective Roarke?” “Why are we getting hostile towards the Batman all of a sudden, Jon?” “He’s a vigilante. And a worthless one at that… I’m through letting him make a joke of our police force and our city.” “You sanctioned him.” “I DID NO SUCH THING! **Cough!!**” Clayface slammed the desk before losing control of his breathing. It took him a good ten seconds before he was able to speak again. “Detective, your job is to follow my orders. Protect and serve. Batman has no superiors or rules… he’s a rogue. He’s caused all sorts o’ bad things before… tip of the iceberg. I want him off my streets.” Clayface stood and showed Kylie to the door. “Trust me, detective; it’s for the best.” “I told you,” Paul said, a few minutes later. “I asked him the same thing not two days ago.” “There was something strange in there, though.” Kylie said quietly. “What was that?” “The commissioner seems to have misplaced his limp.” **** The Batman circled the house three more times, his mother’s screams an excruciating impetus, pushing him to move faster. No doors, no windows, no break in the framework of the home… he hadn’t missed anything on his first pass. There was no entrance. Think in the abstract. There was a chimney. Obviously, that was where his attention was desired. “Okay, so I make like Santa Claus, then…” Batman muttered, gripping the cobbled stone of the chimney and climbing his way to the top. For his trouble, his nose was very nearly singed as a column of fire shot out of the chimney. That’s not good. Two minutes later, and the eruption continued. With the only visible means of entrance blocked to him, Batman began to feel pangs of despair… naturally, consider his surroundings! “…Your greatest nightmare.” Batman wrapped himself in his cape and leapt into the flames. **** All was quiet in the room. Batman was as still as death, and Xanadu looked so… “I think he’s good for now,” Boston smiled. “Whaddaya say we…” “Boston!” Xanadu gasped. “Look!” The Batman’s body had started shaking, a little at first, growing more severe by the second. “This is not good,” Boston said, regretting as usual being the one to make the obvious statement. “We have to get him back before…” Just then the shaking stopped. Boston stared intently at the man in black. “Forget I said anything,” the former Deadman breathed. “That was just a transition. A nasty one, sure, but if I would’ve… he could’ve… and… just… forget I said anything.” That’ll teach me to not pay full attention to the task at hand... **** Pain needled the Batman’s mind as he dropped through the flames. The fire did not char his body as it lapped at his cloaked form, but the feeling is all you need… added to, of course, by his mother’s irrepressible cries for help. It seemed like forever before the blaze puked him into the den of the house where… “No.” He had fought his whole life to suppress this, and with a near-perfect memory, it wasn’t easy. His will made it possible. His will made everything possible. It made him brave a trip to Hell. It allowed him to be swallowed up and spit out by a wall of fire… And it had long since allowed him to forget coming in from a swim in the creek near his uncle’s cabin to find his mother being raped by that same man who he had thought the world of. It was his sister, Tim thought, tears beginning to flow as the memory broke through. My mother. “What are you doing in here, boy?” ‘Uncle Vincent’ growled in a drunken rage. “You were told to stay outside.” “Get off her!” Tim shouted with the voice of a frightened little boy. His mother just sobbed. “Oh is that the way it is?” ‘Vincent’ said, standing up and adjusting his pants to walk comfortably. “I give you a roof, my hospitality, and you can’t even show me the respect I deserve?” The alcohol on his breath was overpowering, filling the room as ‘Vincent’ walked towards Tim. He was holding his belt in his hand, the large silver buckle glinting from light that had nowhere to come from. He raised it above his head and began to rain down a torrent of blows on Tim. His mother was shouting, begging for ‘Vincent’ to stop. Tim wished she would close her eyes, let her deafness protect her… “You can beat him, you know,” A whisper said in Tim’s ear. “You’re no longer a little boy.” That’s right, Tim realized. I’m a man! “Not just a man,” the whisper continued. “You’re the Batman. You’re more than capable of destroying a petty drunk that would rape his own sister and beat a defenseless child.” Yeah! “Maybe this’ll teach you respect, Timmy! You gotta have respect!” ‘Vincent’ yelled, tossing the belt aside in favor of a fist. Two punches were thrown. “You can beat him,” the voice assured Batman. ‘Vincent’ tried a third blow, but it was caught by the Batman, who wrenched the arm around, locking it behind the back of his attacker as he rose. “Do you know who I am?” Batman asked the now-frightened ‘Uncle Vincent.’ “I’m…” Wait just a minute, Tim thought. Pause and put the pieces together. First, consider where you are. Second, consider the fact that there is no possible way you can change anything that happened in the past… third, consider the little voice that sounded a lot like… “Pride,” Batman said as he let go of his ‘uncle,’ “goeth before a fall.” The interior of the cabin melted away like tears in the rain, allowing the space around the Batman to be replaced with an early Victorian parlor. “Bravo,” Neron said. “I thought you’d never catch on.” “Thought or hoped?” “Touche, sir.” Neron smiled, holding out a glass. “Brandy?” “Thank you, no. I remember that ‘myth’ about Persephone.” “Again denied.” Neron shrugged, sipping his drink. “I’ve come for Alfred.” “Of course you have, but a contract is a contract. His soul is mine.” Tim was at an impass. He’d hoped to bully the ultimate con artist on his own turf; once again, charging in where angels fear to tread – pardon the pun – without thinking things through. Relying on anger. Which is partly why Alfred had had to rescue him in the first place but… Hold on. Remember the gist of the deal. The specific words said. Tim got an idea. It was pure semantics, buuuuuut… “You have to release him.” “And just why is that?” “Because. It bothers me that you have his soul.” “So? It… bothers…” “It bothers me a great deal, Neron. And if I recall the terms correctly, Alfred would only sell on the condition that you never bother me again.” “It…” “It’s a catch-22, is what it is.” The brandy sifter cracked and shattered in Neron’s grip. He had to follow the letter of the law as far as the deal was concerned… and this insignificant… NOTHING had managed to outmaneuver him! “I release control, Timothy.” Batman smiled. “But I will exact my revenge.” “Yeah,” Tim said as he allowed his astral self to be pulled back to his body. “People have a habit of saying that to the good guy when they lose, don’t they?” **** THE END! **** NEXT ISSUE: Send in the clone! **** GOING BATTY **** First, a note: the memory that Tim has of his mother and uncle was once the basis for a Batman: DCF story called “Scherezade,” which would have DEFINITELY been for “Mature Readers Only.” After writing about three-quarters of it, I scrapped the thing… Why? Well, partially because I was uncomfortable with the story and the subject manner – which is not a bad sign, as that was it’s intended effect – but it just didn’t feel right, either, to release that kind of story with this kind of character. Touching on it in a hellish (literally) sort of way is an homage I’m willing to make, but I think it may be better to keep this book more in the vein of the fantastic and (mostly) lighthearted. We can’t all be the Suicide Squad and have it both ways. But hey – I got letters! Let’s move on! From: Bruce Wayne JD To: erik@brainerdonline.com Date: Friday, October 22, 1999 1:16 AM Subject: one letter??? I can't believe it! Just read 39- 39 issues already!!!!! Who is Tim a genetic construct of! 39 issues!!! I'm dyin' over here! Aren't we due for some answers already?!?! Great book, Tim vs. Neron's gonna rock. Can't wait for #40. ****I promise, in issue #41 we’ll all find out just who Tim’s from, genetically speaking. Hope the ‘fight’ with the devil worked out for you.**** From: Jason Tippitt To: darvey@rocketmail.com ; erik@brainerdonline.com Date: Monday, October 25, 1999 11:44 AM Subject: Re: Bats #39 Hmmm, for some reason I have a craving for pie now. : ) Great issue, one of your best, in my opinion. The bit with Clayface taking Isaacs' place was totally unexpected. The introduction of this healing matrix was also pretty cool, although we don't really know yet if it had time to do its work -- I guess we might find that out next ish. The "revelation" of who Tim's based on was painful. Damn your eyes, man! You're even more heartless than I am, doing it the way you did! :) Ollie and Eve's guest appearances here were well handled. Pretty much sums up how I think both of them would see Mr. Drake... All in all, jolly good show, man. Now, get to work on #40! And run this in the letters column, so we won't have to hear ya bitchin' about no letters! ;) -- Jason ****Ollie and Eve were written right? Rock on! I feel like the Walrus, now. As to the revelation of Tim’s Number One, like I said earlier, next issue! PROMISE!**** And that’s it… ‘til next time! -Erik VISIT GOTHAM: http://members.tripod.com/dcfbatman BATMAN DCF MAILING LIST: http://www.onelist.com/subscribe/batmandcf VISIT THE DCF DISCUSSION BOARD: http://disc.server.com/discussion.cgi?id=6074