The DCFutures FanFiction Group recognizes that Batman and all related characters are 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. **** BATMAN: DCF #45 **** Written and Directed by Erik Burnham darvey@rocketmail.com **** BATMAN created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger **** "Where the Buffalo Roam" **** "My name is Julius Larrabee," he said. "And I have no answers left to give." Larrabee scratched his chin. "I am forty two years old, and my business is successful. I own homes in Connecticut, London, and Luna City. For the last ten years, at least, I have made the Fortune 25, and I have a beautiful wife. So the question is, dear friend, why am I so unhappy? My homes are empty, bereft of children. My money can't buy me the respect I don't have. Love I can't get... something genuine. And my beautiful wife is quite... familiar with infidelity." He choked out the words. "All I ever gave to her was love. So why does she do this to me?" Larrabee was yelling now, but a mirror cannot give answers, only echo the questions. "WHY?" **** Marcy Lovell was trying her best to be seductive. After all, she was out on the town with Tim Drake. Finally. All that vamping at social functions, the subtle (and not so subtle) flirting, it had finally paid off. Marcy finally had her chance to get a little closer to that Drake family fortune she'd heard so much about. "So, Tim. Where have you been keeping yourself? You're hardly the social animal you used to be." Tim smiled. "Responsibilities, Marcy m'love, they're what make the world go 'round." "You used to say the same thing about fun." Marcy giggled. "But answer my question! What have you been doing to keep yourself away from me?" "Trying to put some of my education to use. A little travel. I also occasionally dress up in a black suit and beat the hell out of people." "S&M? Kinky." They shared a laugh. "Did you see that awful fight last week?" She asked. "The one with the green thing that landed in the park?" "Of course! How many fights would you see? They don't generally make the news." "I read about it. One of my construction companies lost a bid to Liam Concord." "Oh, poor baby..." **** Vanessa Larrabee was a prisoner. "Why?" Julius had asked her. And then he locked her in the East wing of his mansion. The ADM kept her from even approaching a window. Had she been harmed? No. Would she be? Probably not. If there was one thing she knew about Julius it was this: he adored her. Even in pain he wouldn't physically harm her. ...Who knows what he might otherwise come up with... How had he found out? More importantly, what did he find out, and when? For the first time in her life, Vanessa began to feel... guilt. **** "...So there I was, just outside Edmonton," Tim smiled, in between bites of veal. "And I see this bear out the window of my limo." "A bear? What did it do?" "Well, apparently, we can dispel that old myth about the woods." The way she laughed, so hard, made Tim think she didn't even know what she was laughing at. He hated that. **** "Is't possible that on so little acquaintance you should like her? That but seeing you should love her? And loving, woo? And wooing, she should grant?" Julius smiled faintly. "Mr. Drake, I wonder - are you aware of what you caused?" Julius' mind wandered back several months. How he had found his wife's travel plans to Rome. How he had decided to join her. How he had found her, completely by chance in the lobby restaurant of her hotel, having coffee with a young man he vaguely recognized. Staying out of sight, he followed them around for the rest of the day. They took in some races. A soccer match. And then she swept him back to her hotel. Julius couldn't bring himself to barge in, to stop things. Some hours later, he recalled the face of the man with his wife. Drake. Richard? No... Timothy. Tim Drake. He remembered the man. And, in that moment, he hated him. Every wrong Vanessa had committed against their marriage had a face now. The question was... what would he do about it? **** "Well, Marcy, it was a nice evening. I'll give you a call, we'll do it again sometime." Tim raced for the door of his hoverlim. "Tim, wait!" Marcy tried, but he was gone before she knew what hit her. **** Dr. Tippitt examined his latest catch - a Leaguer snatched near Las Vegas. This one was called Impulse; she had abilities of repulsion; as such, she could never truly come into contact with anyone - and precious few things. Even now, she was repelling a quarter of an inch above the ground in her tiny cell. Impulse joined his collection, the superhuman beings gathered by his 'molded men,' the malleable green androids he had constructed with funds from the Tuscotti deal. [editor's note - the good Doctor was hired by Clayface - who was masquerading as mob boss Angel Tuscotti - to bioengineer an opponent for Batman.] So far, Tippitt had managed to abduct five metahumans - creatures far more conducive to research than any given legion of labrats. Only one of Tippitt's hunters had failed, suffering a rather public defeat... and partially at the hands of this Batman he had heard so much about from Mr. Tuscotti. This man was making things personal. **** "Okay, let's get me gone," Tim said jumping into the limo. He wished he'd driven himself tonight, but then he wouldn't have been able to pry himself away from Marcy with the ol' 'duty calls' excuse only the officialness of a limoed escape would corroborate. Wait a second. The limo was going west. The Manor was east. "Hey, driver? Buddy? Did you program your nav-charts upside down because we're-" Tim's ultra-sensitive hearing picked it up then. A hissing. Quickly, he moved to roll the windows down. The controls were disabled. The hissing was a little louder now. There was no taste. No scent. Tim stopped breathing and put all his effort into a punch. Not on the outside windows, which he knew could take anything he could dish out, but on the barrier between him and the driver. =WHAM= Nothing. Again. =WHAM= His lungs were starting to burn; he could not risk a deep inhalation, so his air was drawing short. =WHAM= The glass began to spiderweb. Okay, Tim thought. Let's see if this gets your attention, you sonnuva- =WHAM!= The glass cracked and broke, radiating into the front seat. ...And onto the dead driver, propped up into the seat, the blinking auto-pilot light dancing playfully across his unseeing face. And Tim now realized, as he began to slip from consciousness, that he didn't need to breathe whatever was being piped into this hoverlim for it to do its job... **** "MRS. LARRABEE," the ADM [Automated Defense-Maintenance system -ed.] announced, opening the doors to Vanessa's prison. "MR. LARRABEE REQUESTS THE PLEASURE OF YOUR COMPANY IN THE MAIN DINING HALL." Vanessa wanted to tell the ADM to go to Hell; and after all her time cooped up in these rooms, she wanted to tell it to Julie as well. She wasn't sure either would get her meaning at this point, and in truth, she was too scared to do anything beyond what was asked of her right now. **** Jenna Holloway and the man now called Justice studied the charts provided them regarding the conundrum that had been identified as Batgirl, an 'acquisition' of the late Alucard Holmes. "This is fascinating," Dr. Heather Campbell said to her superiors. "She isn't specifically a metahuman... nor was she modified by standard League... or Patriot methods." "Leaving what, exactly?" Justice asked, his words crackling through a voice box in a manner that sent an unsettling chill through both women. "Leaving," Dr. Campbell paused, "an Atlantean." "What?" Holloway said, surprised. "Nothing in her physical gave any indication of Atlantean characteristics!" "Dense skin, sensitive eyes and ears... she can't speak, but occasionally makes noises with her throat when conscious in response. These are all recognizable traits in the physique of Homo Mermanus. The rub, ma'am, is that there are no discernable gills. She's strictly an air-breather." "And what about..." Justice searched for the name. Campbell arched an eyebrow; the man in black didn't seem to be as in control of information as he had in the past; more fuel to the rumor that it was an entirely new individual as opposed to another clone. "Carrington, Bradley." Holloway offered. "Retired League." "The Penguin, yes. He's been lookin' for this..." Justice paused when he became aware of his uncharacteristic use of slang. "He's been inquiring as to her whereabouts." "Blockbuster's report outlined it all. We've had tabs on him since." "Why does he want her?" "That's a good question." Justice mused. "I have a hard time believing his interest her is as puritanical as 'she's the family I used to have.' Perhaps it would be worth finding out." **** "I-buhthewha whozis?" Tim Drake babbled as he regained consciousness. Quickly, the events leading up to his rude awakening came back to Drake. The date, the drive, the gas. He was aware that he was bound to a chair. And that he was seated at a table. And there was the scent of food in the air. And someone was sobbing. He felt the chair, the bonds, the proximity of the table. He smelled the food, and could hear the sobbing - a child, no, a woman. He was blindfolded. "If this is a fraternity prank... I'm not in college." Tim tried. Feeling out the people he could sense in the room. "Mr. Drake, we're going to play a game, you and I." The voice was vaguely familiar. "I'm going to ask you some questions. The answers you give will determine what happens next." Whacko! "How 'bout we wait until you're done with dinner? And don't worry about me, I've already ea-AAAGH!" A strong current of electricity flowed through Tim. Who knew how many volts. "I've got the questions, sir. You've got the answers. Let's keep it that way." He cleared his throat. "True or false, you took a brief sabbatical to Rome last year?" "If this is about the frequent flier miles, I thought I'd covered that..." More electricity. "Yes." "You seduced several women while there. True of false?" "I had some fun." No voltage this time. Mr. Curious here was going somewhere. He was a jealous boyfriend, or husband. Maybe a father. But the trick here is: the only woman he'd had anything to do with over there who was within six degrees of the kind of money this kidnapping cost... He'd done nothing at all with. Except had lunch. God Bless his memory. And damn his reputation. Tim figured out what was going on: he was the scapegoat here. It was the easiest mystery he'd ever had to solve. Praise be to the Hemlock Jones school of detection. Okay, now what? What could he do? There was some hesitation. His inquisitor wasn't really sure where to go. Tim could try to lead him out of this... "So, Julie - am I right?" Tim heard a gasp... right guess! "There's a dead driver somewhere. There's kidnapping, there's torture... you're not this kinda guy. I remember you." No juice yet. Tim continued. "I know enough to stay away from wives, Julie. You know my Pop raised me well enough to know I should break as few Commandments as possible or I'd wind up with a lightning bolt shoved up my--" "Enough!" Larrabee yelled. No juice. "You don't understand! I SAW YOU!" "You saw me what?" "I saw you with her!" "You saw me with her? Doing what?" "I saw you... I... having lunch, but..." "Coffee, Julie." Please play it cool and confident. "I never refuse a pretty lady coffee. That doesn't mean I'm going to jump on a woman who happens to be wearing a wedding band." Tim was telling the truth. He heard about Vanessa Larrabee at Liam Concord's last gala. And he had met her in Rome. She wasn't subtle. ...And to be honest, had she approached him even a year before, she probably would have found herself whisked up to his room before she had even finished her first innuendo. But a lot of things about Tim had changed in the last year, and that was one of them. "You still don't understand. You're here to pay." Larrabee said. This did not bode well, Tim thought, straining at his bonds. "Vanessa, please remove his blindfold." **** It was very early in the morning at Mercy Haven hospital when the first victim fell screaming into the embrace of flames. Theodora Black, forty-two, a bartender at Aloha Jim's in Lowtown. It was 2:21 am and no Batman could have saved her. **** Tim felt the woman's trembling hands remove the blindfold from his face and saw Julius Larrabee standing before him with a small energy pistol at his side. "I want you to know," he said, "I want you to BOTH know, that I am not a murderer. I am a man at the end of the rope I've been given. I can't win, for all my success." He looked at the gun. "I suppose I've been slightly out of my mind the last few weeks, Vanessa. But I can't make you understand. And I can't make you love me. I'm sorry." And he shot her. "The police are on their way, Mr. Drake. But what will they find? A final riddle. How do you punish a man for finally killing another man's hope? Do you kill him where he stands, or do you let him live?" Tim was trying still to break his bonds as Larrabee brought high the gun. "It may fall from proper context, Mr. Drake but...This is thy sheath, now let me die." The gun continued to Larrabee's temple and answered his riddle. **** Ten minutes to four and Tim Drake was home at last, rushed the long way around the city for no explained reason and spared any questions even though he'd been extracted from the site of a murder suicide. They didn't even suggest he see a doctor. Naturally this dumped fuel onto the fire of Tim's curiosity. "Alfred!" He said, entering the cave. "Something's rotten in the state of Denmark." "We know, Tim." Clark said. He was costumed in his black suit, it's silver chest emblem shining under the overhead lights like a badge of honor. "My God, are you all right? I smell burnt flesh..." "It's been a long night. What's going on?" "From what we've been able to uncover, Master Tim, it's..." "Death," Clark finished. "Okay," Tim said. "Let me grab my cape, you can fill me in on the way." Clark grabbed Tim's arm as he passed. "No, Tim. You can't go." "Excuse me?" "You'll thank me later," Clark said, knocking Tim out with a swift backhand. "Keep him here, Alfred. This... is a job for Superman." **** END! **** NEXT ISSUE: Tim Drake goes head to head against DARK! **** GOING BATTY **** What a cliffhanger, huh? And I know that that last sentence has you people cheering! (So let's see some LETTERS!) Next issue Tim will face the subconscious villain DARK, and in Batman #47 Clark Kent will face the menace known as FIREBRAND - something so deadly, even Clark won't be able to stop it alone, and the Earth DOES hang in the balance!! I need letters to answer! -Erik Visit Gotham: http://members.tripod.com/dcfbatman Visit the DCF Message Board: http://discserver.snap.com/Indices/108808.html