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 #51 **** Written by Erik Burnham darvey@rocketmail.com **** BATMAN created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger **** "The Hill" **** Ennis Hobbs looked out over Gotham City from his office, near the top of the Drake Building in the heart of the city. A smile formed on his face. He loved this town. And he may have to leave it soon. More's the pity. "Drake," Ennis said quietly. His voice automated rolodex did the rest. "You got me," the voice of Tim Drake filled the room. "What's up, En?" "Tim, I have to talk to you." "So talk away, it's your dime." "Not over the phone, Tim. I'd like to speak with you in person." There was a brief silence. When Tim next replied, much of the usual self-amusement had left his voice. "Catch you at the Cenilmaga Club in half an hour, then." "That'll be fine." **** Clark Kent sat in the Batcave, staring at the regeneration matrix that had - after the course of a near century - brought him back to the land of the living. And prayed to God it could do the same once more for another. "The readings have not changed in the last four hours, sir." Alfred said, noting Clark's position. "There was a spike yesterday," Clark started. "I guess I hoped that it was the start of a trend." "Healing can take time, Master Clark." "I know, Alfred, I know." Clark placed his hand on the glass of the matrix and looked inside at its comatose inhabitant. "She doesn't deserve this, Alfred." "We seldom get what we deserve, sir." Clark wondered if the occupant of the chamber would agree. He looked into her half-open eyes and hoped for something. Anything. But got nothing. Still, he wouldn't give up on her. He didn't know how to give up. "I'll see you tomorrow, Alia." **** The Cenilmaga Club. One of Gotham's finest eateries, the cafe offered multiple holographic booths that allowed the patron to enjoy their meal in any one of a thousand different times and places. Tim Drake enjoyed lunch in Italy without actually having to hop a flight, and was always pleased that the Cenilmaga had chosen to stay with the form of holotechnology that didn't give him a raging migraine. "So, En - what's on your mind?" Tim asked before a hit of espresso. "This isn't easy for me to say," Ennis fumbled his words. "I've stayed silent for so long..." "Clandestine affair, big dog?" Tim smiled. He knew it was more serious, but he was desperate to break the somber mood. It was suffocating him. "Tim - I know about you." "I certainly hope so, En. You've been there since day one." "You don't understand, Tim. I know what they did to you. I helped them." This was not going somewhere Tim wanted to go. "Who's that? If you mean those twins I was seeing last month..." "Tim, I don't have time for this. I know what you do with your nights." Ennis wouldn't just come out and say it directly. He couldn't. Perhaps it was paranoia, always expecting a recording device hidden where he least expected it. Perhaps it was a trying to hang on to a shred of dignity despite his conscience. Tim did not reply to the statement. He merely ate his meal, wiped the sauce from his mouth, and poured himself another glass of wine. Finally: "Who put you up to this?" "I didn't want to do it, Tim. Richard Drake was the closest friend I ever had. But they took my - Tim, they caused my wife to miscarry. I lost my baby girl because I didn't say yes fast enough." Silence. "They explained the situation. They told me the Drakes would have a son. Practically predicted Rich would ask me to be your Godfather, like it was on a schedule. I was told to encourage you in certain interests..." "Like suggesting the martial arts to my mother. Building confidence, I believe, was what she told me." "It worked," Ennis tried to smile, unable to look Tim in the eye. Tim knew Ennis was telling the truth. He didn't want to believe it, but he was getting used to living in a web of conspiracy. Still... "Tell me something," Tim said, "to make me believe you." "Alucard Holmes." Bastard. Tim surprised himself by remaining composed, something that he would have been impossible under the circumstances. "And you're telling me all this because...?" "Because I'm dying, Tim." **** Eleven hours later, in the Batcave. Tim Drake walked slowly away from the laboratory, his research completed. He had spent the day analyzing a blood sample taken from Ennis Hobbs. There was a virus - a subtle little beast. Rare, too. Only a handful of cases documented. And one of them had been Richard Drake. "Alfred, prep the Batmobile." "Heading into town, sir?" "No Alfred, I'm not." Tim replied as he slipped the red bat over his chest. "Where to, then?" Justice, Tim thought. "Perhaps a trip to New York?" It all comes down to Justice. "Sir?" The time had come for Justice to face his namesake. "Sir?" The time had come for Justice to die. **** END! **** NEXT ISSUE: J U S T I C E! **** GOING BATTY **** Hey folks. Hope you enjoyed 51. No letters from #50 yet, so f you liked that issue, [and/or this one!] I hope to hear from you! Thanks! -E Visit Gotham: http://members.tripod.com/dcfbatman Visit the DCF Message Board: http://disc.server.com/Indices/136525.html