***** A Note from the Author Hi. I appreciate the fact that you're looking this over. For those of you who've been here a while, TIMEQUAKE was a two-part story I did last summer in the 35-36 issues of BATMAN DCF. Basically, I swapped my Bats and the ones DC Comics churns out every month to see what would happen. I had a great start. And a less than great finish... it was fine, sure, but less. So I redid it. There's a LOT of new material here. Some of it may not be great, as my writing is suffering right now - as a side effect of severe pain via wisdom teeth - but it IS quite a bit different, and maybe even better. At any rate, it is a chance to see the book remixed a little... I hope you enjoy. Now, on to Alex Cook's foreword... (; **** DCFutures takes the myths and legends we've all grown up on and throws them in the blender, adds a dose of spices from across the multiverse, and serves it up on a platter of conspiracy and domination. No series does this as well as Batman: DCF. Erik has created an intriguing tapestry here, sharing with us characters and storylines DC should drool over. While Erik is still unemployed by the big wigs, it doesn't stop him from delivering each and every month, and this collected work is no different. The original Timequake arc was intriguing, but fell short of its mark. Not letting that stop him, Burnham has remastered it all, tweaking scenes here and there. The outcome is great, allowing us to see how Tim Drake II would react to Wonder Woman's formidable...attributes. And he does it with the trademark humor that Erik has intertwined into this series. Each issue is an improvement on the last, this collected special being a perfect example of that. Enjoy the Timequake collection, and realize this isfar from the end for Erik. Bastard has more sub plots going on then Chris Carter could dream of, and handles them all with more care than a practiced neurosurgeon. Read on! ;) -ALEX **** "Master Bruce? Master Bruce, I have the mail here and... I say!" Alfred Pennyworth was a hard man to surprise. As a matter of fact, given the unique nature of his employment, he had thought that he'd seen every possible sight under the sun while serving Bruce Wayne; the man the world was sometimes more acquainted with as the Dark Knight, the Caped Crusader... ...The Batman. What Alfred saw before him was a tall man (though not quite as tall as Master Bruce) wearing a variation of the Batman uniform... it was solid black, with no exposed flesh, a large red bat on the chest and red fins on the gauntlets. This man had a different posture from Master Bruce that made him immediately stand out... not to mention the fact that this Batman was in the middle of using... a hula hoop. "What do you say? How about hello, I like it when people say hello. Pleased t'meetcha. I'm Batman, nice to make your acquaintance. And by the way, since we're old buddies and all now, HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET IN HERE?" "Master Dick, is that you?" Alfred asked the man in black; unable to stop staring at the giant red Bat proudly emblazoned on the proxy Batman's chest. "Master Dick? Crude jokes are coming to mind, friend... but that doesn't help me any. Alfred! I could use a hand here, if you feel like it." The Batman replied, casting the hoop aside. "Excuse me sir, but do I know you?" Alfred replied. "Oy," the man in black exhaled, dropping his head. "Let's try this again. Me: Batman. Dark Knight, champion of justice on the mean streets of Gotham, poster boy for the fun lovin' superhero set. Now YOU are..." "Certain that you are playing an elaborate practical joke, Master Dick, please now, if you would, what happened to Master Bruce?" "Excuse me? My name isn't Dick. Bruce isn't exactly here anymore, and... Oh, no. Alfred, we don't have another one of the time-lost folks here, do we? Alfred?" "What, sir?" "Not you, I'm trying to talk... to... Oh. Oh, I think I just had me an epiphany." "Do tell." "Your name is Alfred." "Yes." "Alfred Pennyworth." "Of course, sir, whomever else could you mean?" The Batman sat down and rubbed his masked eyes. "What's the date today, Alfred?" **** "You're late," Bruce Wayne said, staring unerringly at the screen of the gigantic computer system that dominated the Batcave. "Anything important in the mail?" "Nothing for you, Bruce." The voice of Clark Kent replied from behind. Bruce turned slowly. "Clark. What are you doing here?" Bruce spoke in even, unfriendly tones... as though highly offended by this impromptu visit. "And what's with your hair?" "Where's Tim?" "I should imagine he's at school. Why?" "Bruce, what are you doing here?" Bruce Wayne had an urge to laugh. It was rare that he felt the genuine desire to do so. He suppressed it anyway. "I belong here. I..." A closer look at Clark revealed volumes to the detective in Bruce. The subtle wrinkles on the man's face. The spits of gray in his hair... Clark was older, and genuinely surprised to see him in the Batcave. Bruce tripped a button and the date was revealed to him. "How did I get here?" "When you ascertain the methods behind your arrival, Master Bruce, let us know. We'd be happy to put it in the scrapbook." "Not now, Alfred." Clark said to the specter that had managed the impossible -- surprising Bruce Wayne. "But Master Clark, he's the fourth relic from the-" "Not NOW, Alfred. Go make some coffee for Bruce; I'm sure he could use some right about now." "Yes sir. And for you?" "Nothing, thanks." Bruce arched an eyebrow. "Explain." "Things have changed, Bruce." Clark cleared his throat. "More than you'd be comfortable with." "Try me." **** The DCFutures Fan Fiction Group recognizes that Batman, Superman, 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! **** The DCF proudly presents Batman DCF in TIMEQUAKE. **** Batman created by Bob Kane & Bill Finger **** This story originally presented in Batman: DCF #35-36. **** "You have to understand, Alfred, I have NO idea what I'm doing here." Tim Drake said through the confines of his mask. "I was horsing around one minute, just getting warmed up to take off on patrol, forgetting my troubles, embracing the moment... next thing I know, I'm standing here talking to you. I just blinked and I was here. Same spot, same cave, embracing the wrong moment." "I see, sir." Alfred said, nodding. He did not entirely believe this young man. In fact, he was still positive that Master Dick was attempting some clever ruse. "I see, said the blind man..." Tim sighed. "But you don't believe me, do you?" "You have to understand... this is rather, well... hard to..." Alfred started. I have to prove it if I ever wanna get home... what's the worst that could happen, I end up finding out about this when I read the records before I become Batman in the first place? I have to prove it, just take a deep breath. This is Alfred Pennyworth, the man took Bruce's secrets to the grave, he's not going to sell you out, not if he trusts you and if you trust him and to do that you have to... "I say!" Alfred exclaimed as Tim removed the mask and stared at the older man. "...Does this help my story?" **** Clark left the kitchen of Wayne Manor holding a silver tray. On the tray was what Alfred swore to him was Bruce's favorite lunch... according to the mansion's database. As Clark descended into the dark caverns beneath the mansion, he admitted to himself that he was worried about Bruce. Oh, the Dark Knight seemed to accept the situation that he'd been dropped into readily enough. In fact, he seemed to be facing it with the same obsessive determination that practically defined him. And it wasn't as if he'd never dealt with time travel before; that came with the job. However, for the last several days, the man who had built the Batcave seemed determined not to leave it. As Clark entered the monitor room, he saw Bruce seated before the computer screen, in almost the exact same position that he'd been found in just days before. The screen was displaying visual historical accounts of the last several years, most of the stories dealing with Gotham City itself. Bruce didn't even glance up as Clark set the tray before him. "I hate chili," was all he managed, in a barely perceptible tone. Barely perceptible to a human, anyway. "Alfred..." Clark grumbled. "My apologies, Master Clark, there must be an error in the logs. Honest and for true, cross my... er... other... body and hope to die." the AI responded in a voice full of contrived innocence. "This is a quite a world you've got here Clark. Is there anything left that hasn't been perverted in some form or another?" Bruce asked, bitterness filling his voice. Clark perched on a nearby counter and regarded his friend carefully. "Why don't you go out there and see for yourself? You've been sitting here for days, devouring all this information, now why not see what the reality looks like?" "I don't think so." "What about your work, Bruce?" "Excuse me?" "I thought Batman watched over Gotham City?" "And I WILL watch over Gotham City! MY Gotham City, in MY time, when I find a way to get back to it! This Gotham is meant for whoever the hell's pretending to care! ...And apparently for you, as well." Bruce whirled around to glare at Clark, his dark eyes blazing with anger. Clark held his gaze, his own eyes filled with an unwavering intensity all their own. "Damn it, Bruce. This isn't like you at all. There are still people out there that need you, no different from any other. You've never been one to sit back and take a passive role. No matter the circumstances." Some of the fire seemed to drain out of Batman's eyes, and his shoulders slumped slightly, as if all the life had gone out of him suddenly. Turning back to the computer screen, he called up a file. Clark looked over Bruce's shoulder and saw that it was a news article from the year 2028. An article about the death of Dick Grayson, the first hero known as Nightwing. ...An article that clearly blamed Batman, this Batman, for that death. Clark drew in a ragged breath. The article was rather... farfetched in its assumptions... but he couldn't tell Bruce that. Not now... probably not ever. "My God, Clark. What the hell happened to everything? This can't possibly be the REAL future. It can't." Clark walked over to his friend and silently clasped the other man's shoulder. He was more than a little surprised when Bruce didn't knock his hand away. "Is this what it's been like for you? Almost everyone and everything you knew gone? Everything we worked for... everyone we... I can't imagine what it's been like. Cut off from the world we knew, no connection to this one..." "It hasn't been easy Bruce... I don't even have a picture of Lois or Ma and Pa, just some old computer files I dug up." The man formerly known as Superman heaved a heartfelt sigh. "But I get by. I occupy myself." Clark paused, unsure whether to finish his thought. "Maybe you should consider the possibility that you're stuck here." "Maybe," Bruce answered, his voice returning to its customary harsh baritone as he sat up straighter in his chair. "If so, I guess I'd better start getting my house in order. One thing, though, Clark." "What's that Bruce?" "Who installed that hologram of Batgirl dancing so badly?" "That's the Bat-tusi, sir," Alfred corrected. "And it was Master Tim's idea. It helps him think." "Excuse me?" **** Tim Drake had always had a penchant for getting a reaction. It was one of his specialties; and he did not leave Alfred Pennyworth wanting. The older man was in fact, quite shocked. Who was this young man wearing a Batman costume, and what was he doing in the Batcave? How did he get there, and how did he know so much? These were just a few of the questions the butler was able to spit out as soon as he regained his composure. "My name is Tim Drake - ah, the second. I was born in 2088 to Richard and Mary Drake. I was willed my grandfather's journal when my pop died... and from that point I just... fell into all of this. There was, well, just a little bit of a conspiracy involved, but..." Tim could see that he had lost Alfred. No, wait. He hadn't lost the old man... Alfred was staring behind Tim at something. At... ... Tim Drake. Sixteen year old Tim Drake. Tim Drake, AKA Robin the Boy Wonder. Tim Drake, Grandpa. It was Tim's turn to be surprised. And embarrassed. "Um, Hello," Tim said to his young grandfather-to-be. "I don't suppose you heard what it was that I was saying, just now... didja?" The younger Tim didn't speak, looking over the tall man in the black suit. "Who are you?" He finally asked. "Really?" "Oh, this is going to be a very, very long day..." **** "Excuse me, sirs... as much as it pains me to break up this Kodak moment..." "What's on your mind Alfred?" Clark asked. "I'm monitoring an alarm in the downtown area." "What is it?" Bruce barked, standing up and pulling his cowl into place. Clark smiled grimly as the slumped figure of Bruce Wayne was quickly replaced by the confident shadow known as the Batman. "An alarm -- a signal of distress, sir. I'm sure that you recall distress from your times as..." "Alfred." Clark said in a warning tone. "Apologies, Master Clark. Its Mercy Haven Hospital, sirs. According to the police reports, it has been taken over by a terrorist faction." "Details, Alfred." Bruce's voice dropped even lower as his disgust deepened. "Right away, sir. The terrorist group has been identified as 'Patriot.'" "Patriot?" "A group that violently opposes the current political leanings of the United Nations, sir. A delegate to said body has just successfully emerged from heart surgery. His name: Alexander Hazcook. His importance: he is the head of a committee that is looking into the possible replacement of Justice." "Do we have any useful information on Justice, Alfred?" "Nothing you could use here, Bruce." Clark spoke up. He was in his costume now, the silver of the shield on his chest sparkling under the overhead lights. "I didn't know masks were your style." "I told you things had changed." **** It was like a wake-up call, reminding one of their own mortality. Tim Drake -- the first Tim Drake -- couldn't believe the story he was hearing from this stranger's lips. It was his grandson, from the future, he had no idea how he got there, and he was also that time's Batman. Riiiiiiiiiiight. "Look, mister. I'll admit you have me at a loss. I can't do anything to disprove what you're saying, and I don't know how you know some of the things you know, but if you expect me to trust you on such a flimsy story... I mean, I don't keep this all on paper!" "Hey, 'Gramps,' do you think I like this? All I want to do is go home. I didn't want to drag you into this, and I can't even tell you everything -- I mean, you've been to the movies. I don't want to screw up and impart some bit of wisdom that changes everything and messes up my life, y'know? Like if I told you about your girlfr-- Skip that thought. If I told you about who won the World Series or something, I don't know. Look, maybe I can get help from some of the big boys." "Big boys, sir?" Alfred asked, pouring a soothing cup of tea for the man that claimed to be from the future. "Big boys, Alfred. The JLA. Superman. Somebody." "How are you going to convince them if you can't convince me?" the younger Tim asked. "Look -- if I can get to Metropolis, I can find Superman. He's still got himself a secret identity, right? What am I doing asking..." Tim sighed. "Can you drive yet?" "Yes." "If you get me to Metropolis, I'll make it worth your while." "How are you going to do that? I'm already rich. Something you'd know if you were my..." the word stuck in Tim's throat. "Grandson. Why don't you drive yourself?" "Because I don't know how, okay? Not these old-time cars, anyway..." Tim blushed in pseudo-embarrassment. Walking over to a mirror to survey himself in the scene, wearing a charcoal pinstriped suit Alfred had dug up for him. It wasn't a Keravin, but it was nice. Behind him, the old man, clearing away his half-drank cup of tea, and his grandfather Tim the first, eight years his junior and wasn't that a trip. "Look, kid" was he so insecure with the situation that he had to refer to his grandfather by youthful designation? "Er, Tim. I don't know what to tell you. All I can ask is that you trust me. I mean, every night you risk your life for strangers - and all I ask, your own... grandson, is a lift to Metropolis. Please, Tim, I need your help." "Why can't Alfred take you?" The younger Drake asked. "Because, sir," Alfred interjected. "I've a full schedule today." And then, in a lower tone of voice, "And perhaps the familiarity of what he considers family would provide an obviously distressed soul some comfort." "Alfred, you can't possibly think he's on the level." "Perhaps, Master Tim. Perhaps not. But I have seen stranger things in my time... and I must admit, the resemblance is striking." Tim sighed. "You win, Alfred." **** Snow wound its way towards the rooftops near Mercy Haven Hospital as a sleek black hovercar gracefully landed on top of a dark building near a cross-armed Clark. The Batmobile's internal stealth systems prevented the air traffic control from detecting and tracking the vehicle, but Batman still felt... uncomfortable in the thing... paranoid, even. There was something unsettling about using the automated piloting system, rather than operating it himself. Not that he was foolhardy enough to try and pilot a sophisticated craft that he was unfamiliar with in a populated area. Why couldn't the new Batman have driven something a bit more... terrestrial? Bruce supposed Alfred -- the REAL Alfred -- would be lecturing him on his impatience. A pang of loss shot through him at the thought of his friend. Shoving the feeling away into the dark corner of his mind where he kept such things, Batman stepped out of the hovercar into the crisp winter night. Snow crunched under his boots as he breathed in deeply, drawing the night into him, making it a part of him. "You were right," Bruce admitted as he neared Clark. "This is exactly what I needed." "I'm glad," Clark muttered. "Problems?" Bruce asked, noting his colleague's furrowed brow. "Yes. There's a lot of lead in Gotham." "I told you that you were too reliant on those powers of yours." "I've made do with less recently." "Good for you," Bruce acknowledged, not completely comprehending the full impact of Clark's statement. "What can you hear?" "Whimpering. There are at least thirty distinctive voices in the 'hostage' category. And I'd put the terrorist group at about ten." "That's your best guess?" "Unless there are a lot more hanging around some 'white noise,' that's what I hear at the moment." "Where are the cops?" "You can see them from here." Clark pointed first to the ground around Mercy Haven and then pointed out the snipers in nearby buildings." "That's it?" "There's a lot of things that require their attention at the moment, Bruce." "There always are, Clark." **** Tim Drake had never driven to Metropolis alone before. As such, he wasn't going to go in one of Bruce's cars, and he certainly wasn't going to take one of his father's. That meant that it was Robin driving the fully equipped Redbird down back roads and shortcuts out of Gotham and toward the city of hopes and dreams. ...To deliver a Batman that was unlike any Tim had ever known. Mostly because this Batman refused to shut up. "Are you sure you know how to handle this thing?" the nervous voice did not match the dark image the faceless Bat-costume was supposed to conjure. "Yes. Relax. And don't grip the seat so hard; you may accidentally set something off." Tim smiled. It was kind of funny to have someone this neurotic around. "So what is the future like?" Robin asked, as momentary images of 'Robin and his sidekick Batman' flashed through his mind. "Rough on some, easy on others." "That almost answers my question." "Don't know how much to tell you, 'Lefty.'" "What's that supposed to mean?" "Um... never mind. It's just a nickname you'll get one day." "Gee, thanks. How do I get it?" "I forgot." [But YOU can find out! Just read BATMAN DCF: HERITAGE!] Robin sighed and clicked on his bright beams, flooring the Redbird's accelerator as he pulled onto the highway towards Metropolis. "I can tell you this much," Tim the second started through his mask. "You grow up to be a good and decent man. Pop had plenty of great stories about you, and I'm glad I finally got to meet the man I was named after. Honored, really." There was a pause. Robin didn't know what to say. "You're blushing." "No, I'm not!" Robin grimaced and decided to change the subject. Despite himself, he was starting to like this strange man. He reminded him a little of Nightwing. Well, on a bad day. "So, have you been to Metropolis before?" Tim -- the Bat-Tim -- sighed in frustration. "Yes." "What? You don't like it?" "Not my kind of town, to be honest." "Why not?" "You ask a lot of questions, y'know that?" "I'm a detective; it's what I do." "Ah." "You're not?" "Not exactly." "Why not?" "Lack of reason, I guess. Things usually fall in my lap... it's almost as if my life were being charted by some easily-amused- yet-impatient neurotic." "You can't always depend on chance," Robin smiled. "All you really have to do is pay attention." "If you say so." "Now why is it you don't like Metropolis?" Bat-Tim took a long moment to think on that before finally responding: "Something in the air just doesn't taste right." **** "I need to know what they're saying, Clark," Bruce muttered. "The terrorists... are discussing... immediate dissolution of the United Nations." "Excuse me?" "They feel that the whole world should be set completely free and build its way back up from scratch." "That's insane." "Welcome to the future." "What are their plans for the hostages?" "Some of the terrorists feel that what they're doing on this particular mission is ridiculous. Some don't. All are prepared to kill to make their statement. Everyone in the hospital -- the staff, the patients, and themselves." Bruce Wayne closed his eyes and imagined the possibilities in that statement. He would not allow that to happen. He would never allow that to happen. In fact, he could think of only one thing to say: "No." **** "Are you sure you can get around on your own?" Robin asked as the older man leapt out of the Redbird, clothes tucked under his arm. "Without a doubt." Batman replied, a smile beneath his mask. He tossed Robin a small device. "That's a communicator. Press the red button and talk if you dig up anything that can help me, if you would..." "How will I know if you're in range?" "I'm always in range. Thanks for the ride, Sherlock." Robin looked away for a moment, groaning. When he looked back, the Batman was gone. Apparently, some things never change. **** Clark flew towards Mercy Haven Hospital in the hopes of getting some quality reconnaissance to aid himself and Bruce -- the Dinosaurs of the Heroic Age -- in ending this without loss of life. As Clark neared the building, though, he felt weaker. It wasn't the same type of weakness he got from Kryptonite, but it was close. No, scratch that, Clark thought as he began to black out. This is a little... bit... ...Worse... **** Clark Kent sat with his feet up on the coffee table, relieved for a few seconds alone with his wife, Lois. They needed that free time, the quiet time... away from the hectic pace that they kept as hot-shot action journalists, his role as the premiere superhero of earth, and as citizens of this insane planet. Everything was perfect. The lights were low, the mood was right, and Clark's enhanced hearing hadn't picked up anything vital in at least five minutes. It was their version of Shangri-La. And then, came a knock at the door. "Don't answer it," Lois warned. "Don't do it, Clark!" But the knocking continued. And continued. And continued, varying in pace and intensity, rallying rumba beats, a little calypso, 'wipeout,' and finally, the theme from 'the Brady Bunch.' That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Clark sighed loudly and stood up, throwing his glasses on as he strode across the room, annoyed... accompanied by the beat from the banging door. "Figures," Lois sighed. "There's always something." Clark opened the door to see a younger man in a sharp Armani suit, leaning in his doorway. "Clark!" the younger man said. "You look great." "Thank you," Clark said automatically, searching his mind for a name to match with this face. He couldn't come up with one. That disturbed him. "Look, I need your help with something--" the young man started. Clark could hear Lois humming softly in the living room and knew where he'd rather be. "Call me Monday at the Planet, we'll talk," Clark said, closing the door as he spoke. Tim Drake wasn't used to doors being slammed in his face like that. How rude. Time for Plan B. Clark had Lois in his arms faster than she was able to realize he was holding her. They kissed a kiss of deep love and affection. A kiss of... What was that tapping? Screen it out; focus on the situation at hand. Focus on Lois. Focus on... 'It's a story... of a man named Brady...' Argh! Clark Kent moved to the window, flinging open the curtains to be faced with a giant red Bat. It startled him. Gradually, he saw around the bat -- a shield that spread out across the chest of a man who was hanging upside down outside his window. A Batman. In a full mask. "What are you doing here?" Clark breathed. "And what's with the new costume?" "Clark, babe. I've had this costume for eons, but that's another story. Like I said, I need your help, why don't you take a listen and... hello! Who's the babe?" The Batman had flipped into the apartment while Clark stood there, stunned. A quick glance beyond the mask revealed the young man who had just interrupted him in the hallway. Who was he? What was he doing here, in that outfit? And how does he know me? Even as Clark tossed off these questions to himself, he could hear Lois rattling off a third degree of her own. And more politely then he'd have expected. "So, I'm assuming by now you've used the x-ray eyes," The Batman said. "Right? Oh, geez..." He corrected himself quietly, embarrassed. "Does she not know yet?" "No," Clark said. "She knows. Who are you?" "I'm Batman." The younger man growled in that familiar tone Bruce had made famous before flashing a grin that stretched, and somehow showed, through his mask. "Really. Who are you?" "Exactly who I said, Clark... although I am more of an updated model, to be sure. I'll be born in a few decades. And you're an old friend of mine. Look -- if you want more answers, I don't have them. I don't know how I got here, I want very much to get home, and believe me, the irony of my situation is not lost on me." "Irony?" "Yeah..." the Batman's voice trailed off. "But that's another story. I need your help, big guy. Break out the cape, throw the thinking cap on and please, please, please tell your wife to stop asking questions like I don't know what I'm wearing." Clark felt, at that point, it would be in this man's own best interests to get him out of there before Lois added to the Metropolitan murder rate. So before Tim knew it, he was floating above the skies of Metropolis with Superman. "Wow. You're a lot faster than I remember." "Excuse me?" "Never mind. Pop down on top of that building over there." **** "Clark, you look terrible." Bruce said as the larger man finally regained consciousness, back on the rooftop where he and Bruce had started from in the first place. "What... happened?" "We're about to find out. Computer," Bruce growled to the Batmobile's onboard computer systems. "Analysis of the Mercy Haven Hospital -- details on anything beyond standard." "Acknowledged," the computer responded. "Accessing..." After a moment of whirring, the computer had its answer prepared. "Analysis complete. Mercy Haven Hospital is encapsulated by a force field of the Betaschuy class, WayneTech, patented 2009. Field emits a radioactive field safe to organics, low-levels of the elements nitrogen, oxygen, krypton, and..." "Stop analysis. Krypton?" "Correct." "Suspiciously included, however that element is harmless. Even for you." "I know," Clark countered. "I remember that much from my high school science classes." "It appears we have ourselves a mystery, then." "It appears so," Clark acknowledged. "Bruce? Bruce?" **** "Now, then..." Clark said, staring at the moon over Metropolis. "Do you mind telling me who you are again? Slowly this time." "Okay," the ebon-clad youth nodded. "My name is Tim Drake. I'd say 'nice to meet you,' if we hadn't already met once before. I hail from the year 2113 where I have a lot of money, a lot of women, a lot of free time, and a weird predilection to wear this suit while scaring and beating the living hell out of your basic criminal element. The usual playboy-with-a-secret type." "I see. And how is it you came to be here?" "That I don't know, and I resent being in this position, to be perfectly honest. I was doing some pre-patrol warm-ups, and then decided to have a little fun, get my mind off of some things. I was playing with a hula-hoop, Clark, and then I blinked. The next thing I saw was an old man holding mail addressed to Bruce Wayne. Not the kind of thing that happens every day." "Just like that?" "Just like that. Shocking, yes, but at least as conceivable as some guy flying around in a cape, no?" "Touché." "What I need is a way back. I don't suppose you can fly through time?" Superman couldn't help but laugh. "All you had to say was no," Tim sighed. "Okay, then, Supes, how 'bout you arrange a little introduction?" **** Without a sound, Bruce Wayne - the Batman - slipped past the Gotham Police officers and up to the forcefield surrounding Mercy Haven. His right hand made a quick trip to his utility belt and pulled out a miniature device that sampled the energy at a closer range, and under different criteria. No offense meant to the current 'Batman,' but Bruce wasn't completely trusting of his equipment. Not after meeting 'Alfred.' Hmm. Nothing dangerous about this energy; that much was consistent. On a whim, Bruce reached his gloved hand out and touched the field. ...It passed through without effort. What kind of forcefield didn't repel outside force? Bruce wondered. He then attempted something else, pulling a mini- acetylene torch from his belt. The flame was denied entrance. This field repelled energy... and apparently, energy based weaponry was the standard GCPD fare; hence the ineffectiveness of snipers. True, they could walk right through the shield, but then the hostages would be at risk. Not a half-bad plan. Too bad they didn't seem to have any defense against him. One thing did cross Bruce's mind as he entered the hospital... he'd read about another vigilante in Gotham... Sandman. Where was he during all this? [Answer: he was roughed up by the cat-woman in the last couple of issues! Go read Sandy's own title if you want any more Sandman -- E] **** Tim Drake drank his surroundings in. This was the Watchtower... the JLA Watchtower. Sure, he'd been here before - albeit in the future, where the place was a museum in the middle of the lunar city appropriately named Luna. ...But to see this place in it's prime, well, this was off the charts as far as experiences go. Nothing in Tim's life thus far had held up to this... Well, there was that one gal in Sweden, Superman's Day 2110, but that really was beside the point. And speaking of Superman, there he was, in all his glory, a completely different man from the Clark Tim was acquainted with, although the same quiet strength was there, a strength that far surpassed his obvious physical power. "Are you alright?" Superman asked in a thoughtful voice that made Tim think maybe he wasn't too different from that shy Kansas boy back in the future after all. Rather comforting, that. "Why wouldn't I be?" Tim asked. "Your heart is racing a mile a minute. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were nervous." Tell me how you feel, then, before you walk into a room full of legends, Clark. "I'm fine," Tim muttered, adding in his Bruce-voice, "never been better." "Please stop talking like that." Was that a shudder, Clark? "Whatever you say." **** Bruce slid wraithlike through the shadows of Mercy Haven Hospital, lowering his breathing. For all his taunting of Clark and his reliance on superhuman abilities, Bruce did wish he had the extrasensory powers from time to time. As it was, he had to improvise. The Batman took a small device from his belt and held it next to his ear, adjusting tiny controls as he did so... super hearing, the human way. While it was nowhere near as powerful as Clark's, it would do what needed to be done. "Why are you doing this?" A woman's voice sobbed quietly. "We are Patriot. We do what we must. We do this for freedom." They're not free, Bruce's mind growled. They're being victimized. No. No. NO. The voices were coming from five doors down. The voice did not have the air of authority behind it; it was a preprogrammed response. There was fear in the voice. Fear he could use. Batman was at the room now. The door was open, and he could see clearly inside. The Patriot soldier was holding a gun to the woman's head, uncertainty apparent. This must end. "Stop." The soldier recoiled quickly, his nerves appropriately high-strung. "W-who's there?" "Put the gun down. Now." "Who's there?" The soldier tried again, sweat forming. He wasn't sure what was going down, but the voice was so scary... "Do it." It was a shadow come to life, living, breathing, approaching quickly. Perry MacDonald wasn't ready for this. He had studied the recordings of the Batman. He knew the man's mannerisms and posture and everything... he was prepared for that. They all were. This wasn't the man they were ready to face. Three quick blows to some strategic points on Perry's body confirmed this. He was unconscious and restrained before he even knew what hit him. "Stay here," Batman told the nurse, gliding out of the room as silent as the night itself. **** ...There they were. The Justice League of America. There was Wally West, the Flash... Kyle Rayner, Green Lantern... Aquaman, Wonder Woman HELLO! And... and... "There is nothing wrong with Superman," Tim said, matter- of-factly and slightly dazed. That caught the attention of the whole room, as Batman was not widely known for speaking without a growl. J'onn was the first to act, briefly making mental contact with the Batman before him. Images flashed in his mind, of a future he could not begin to comprehend. Of young men falling from grace, of old friends being tragically marooned... and of himself taking on the symbol of a man he looked up to. "My God," J'onn breathed, his black eyes widening. "He just saw right through me, didn't he?" Tim whispered to Clark. "I'd say so." "Okay, damn. So much for breaking it to them gently." Tim said, quickly throwing on a smile for the confused JLA. "Hi," he said. "My name's... ah, Tim, actually, and I'll be your conundrum for today. I'm sure you noticed the threads by now and have figured out that I'm not the classic pointy-eared vigilante you've come to know and love." "We don't have time for this..." Aquaman grumbled, his limited patience exhausted by this Batman's charismatic jargon. "Beg pardon, Ahab," Tim joked. "But if you don't have time for something this complex, by all means, go swim at some bad guys. Unless maybe you have some kinda 'whirlpool of time' I can use." #Mr. Drake,# J'onn said in his stern telepathic manner, #this man is a king; please afford him some respect if you desire his help.# #I know who he is, Marvin. I read all the books. I even own some real estate outside his old digs. But please understand; I'm under a lot of stress right now, and while I'm sure his Highness is a great pal to have underwater, right now - unless he can swim me home - he won't be of any help... so I'd appreciate it if he just let the attitude go.# #Fair enough,# Aquaman's 'voice' cut in, surprising Tim. #But if you ever take that tone with me again, I'll run you through.# Their private conversation over, the monarch and the young industrialist nodded to one another, having come to an understanding. "Now, then..." Tim started again. "I was knocked into the past, lady and gentlemen. It's not beyond the realm of possibility that whatever brought me from the right time could also muck things up in this one." "Not necessarily," Superman spoke up. "From what you've told me, Booster Gold comes from a time later than yours, and we've never faced any ill effects for all his years here." Tim looked to the ground for a moment. "Booster..." he said quietly, and then louder, "Traveled voluntarily through time, in a man-made device. I have no idea what brought me here, or how." "Point taken." "Where are you from again?" Green Lantern asked. Tim sighed. "2113. A friend of mine speaks highly of you, K.R.... say, can that ring of yours send me back?" "Um, I don't think so... I've never tried anything like that before. What friend?" "Wally, you've done the time-travel thing..." "Can't help you. Sorry." A cup of coffee suddenly appeared in the Flash's hand. Tim had the fleeting impulse to make a crack about 'instant coffee.' "Well, Wonder Woman, I guess it comes down to you. Immortality is sexually transmitted, right?" Superman blushed. Wally spit his coffee out onto the table. Green Lantern's jaw dropped. Aquaman actually chuckled. J'onn remained stoic. ...And Wonder Woman's face went red with anger. Greek women could be incredibly hot - especially when they were angry. Still, the woman could bench press the Brooklyn Bridge... "Kidding," Tim said quickly. "I was only kidding. Trying to defuse some tension." "Are you sure," Wonder Woman said, through near-gritted teeth, "that that isn't the Blue Beetle?" "Positive," Superman, J'onn, and Aquaman all answered in unison. **** The stars looked like a great big game of connect the dots, Clark had thought once, when he was a child. As an adult, he had journeyed amongst many of those same stars -- but they never lost their luster, that sense of wonder that had so captured his imagination. 'Can you see Pegasus, son?' That's what Pa would always say. Pegasus, or Orion. The constellations were up there, just waiting for the dots to be connected, and Pa liked that. He liked when things stayed put and waited for him to get them done. Farming was the fastest thing he was able to do; everything else took time. 'You have to take some time for yourself, son.' Clark knew that, it was one of the reasons why Superman wasn't a 24/7 kind of occupation. At least, it hadn't been in the old days. But here, it was all he had. ...All he had. Maybe that was the reason he was so unhappy as of late? 'You have to take some time for yourself.' When Tim took off his cape, he had things he could be doing. Clark really... didn't. Admittedly, he was a bit afraid of how to go about having a life; there was still so much he didn't know, it was risky. You have to take some time for yourself. But he had to try. Was that Pegasus? He had to try. Was that Orion? He needed some time for himself. Clark stood and looked down at the spot he had been lying on the ground and smiled at the snow angel that had taken his place. He had to try. He would try. **** "Well, that was an incredible waste of time, wasn't it?" Tim asked as Superman was flying him back to Gotham. "I'm sorry, Tim." "You're sorry? Do you have any idea how much you're going to need Wayne in the future? I-" Tim stopped. The audio enhancements in his mask - coupled with his already excellent hearing - made out a scream. "You heard that too, I take it?" Clark asked. "Yes." Tim said. "I need to ask a favor." "What's that?" "Throw me at that sound." "Excuse me?" "I need," Tim explained, his voice getting darker. "To relieve some stress. Throw me." **** Bruce Wayne continued through the hospital, floor by floor, re-enacting the initial Patriot conflict several times, precisely, almost down to the words used. Who was the Batman of this time? Right now it didn't matter. Bruce had taken out several of the marginal soldiers. As near as he could figure, the ones in charge would be near the delegate. Two floors up. **** It was a mugging, the same kind he'd seen a thousand times before in his own time. Here were three men and one woman - in a torn dress. The fire in Tim's eyes ignited. The men heard someone yelling. They looked up and saw, approching like a bullet, was a giant bat. It was yelling. "Batman!" Joey yelled as the bat's 'wings' collapsed, sending him crashing into Andy, who hit the building with ground with such a force that teeth shot out of his mouth. "This ain't Gotham," Deke added. "We're a good twenty miles out!" "Delivery," Batman grumbled, tossing a batarang at the gun Deke was drawing. Joey attacked. He had a good fifty pounds and six inches on Tim: but he also telegraphed his punches in such a manner blind men could have avoided them. Tim dodged, and Joey was assisted on his way to unconsciousness by a concrete faceplant, courtesy an angry Batman. Bruce probably would've been much calmer about this. "Who's next?" Tim growled through his mask. He could see the woman had gotten away. Good. "Fine then, I'll pick." Tim tackled Deke the next closest to him, and got two good, solid blows in before... "*Ahem.* I think they get the point." Tim turned and saw: Clark. The third mugger was gripping his hand in pain. The air smelled vaguely of burnt flesh. A small, cooling pile of slag lay on the ground. The gun, obviously. "Uh... whoops." "You can say thank you." "Thank you." "You really aren't the same as him, are you?" "Totally different cloth. Works for me, though. Most of the time." "Uh... Batman?" The communicator. Tim picked it up; saved by the bell. Maybe he should look into getting himself a partner... they come in handy. "Go ahead." "I think we've found something." "We?" **** Batman could hear voices as he neared the room Hazcook was being held in. Hazcook, a delegate with the United Nations, was in charge of a committee that was investigating the possible removal of Justice from his position in the UN. Patriot wanted a lot more than that; they wanted, for all intents and purposes, anarchy. Taking away the only reality people had ever known, the only reality most of them had ever known... and not because it was blatantly oppressive. Well, not in the picture that they painted. Bruce got in closer. A deep voice boomed, speaking to the delegate. "Mr. Hazcook, we can guarantee there is no help coming. Please, just do as we ask and introduce a bill for dissolution immediately. We have brought a teleline/fax for this purpose." "You don't understand," the delegate tried, unsure of how to address his captor. "No, YOU don't understand! I am a Leech, Mr. Hazcook. Metas cannot get anywhere near me -- your precious League is powerless to intervene. The forcefield we have, the men we have, the hostages we have, no one without superhuman abilities would dare attempt to rescue you! NOW MAKE THE BILL AND PUSH IT THROUGH!" A 'leech,' Bruce thought. The mystery surrounding Clark's sudden weakness has just been solved. "You're not thinking clearly," Hazcook stammered, afraid. Leech, for his deep and threatening voice, was no more than a gelatinous little man near-completely immobile save for his spider-like personal transport and his flailing arms, yet nonetheless, he terrified the delegate. "They... they will never change the world, for just one man..." "Well then, Mr. Hazcook... maybe you should be asking yourself what kind of government it is that you work for." **** "Wow. Nice digs, gorgeous." Clark had dropped Tim off in Gotham an hour ago. Robin picked him up and, and after a long back-and-forth and some serious deliberation by the younger hero, brought him to meet Oracle. She was whispering to Robin now. "No I'm not Dick," the Bat-Tim said. "and I'm not playing a joke. You people have some serious issues with trust, you know that?" Barbara Gordon was stunned. Robin had to smile. "Now than, Babs... show me what you got." "O-kay..." she said, dropping her glasses back onto her nose with a shrug of her brow and turning towards her computer. "S.T.A.R. Labs picked up a... well, I guess you'd call it a 'ripple' in time, late last night... that's their theory, anyway." "A ripple?" Robin asked. "Yes." Babs' fingers flew across the keyboard, and the hypothesis became a three dimensional simulation for the Tims' benefit. "Like when you drop a rock into a puddle. The ripple goes outward, and then back." "So you're saying it's reversable?" The older Tim wondered. "I'm saying, in theory, the ripple will bounce back - and should trade you and our Batman back the exact same way it did the first time." "You're not sounding sure." "This kind of thing isn't exactly my area of expertise. The scientists who discovered it aren't even entirely sure what this is. They are definitely unaware that this ripple had any kind of effect on the world." "Yeah well," Tim's mind floated to memories of a hero dying before he was born. "I have a theory on it." "Which is?" Robin wondered. "Never mind." "That's interesting." Babs mumbled. "What's that?" Tim wondered. "It's complicated..." she countered. "Make it simple then." "You've been here how long?" Babs asked. "Since this morning." "Well, what this simulation suggests is that the ripple originated before our time, hitting us first; so Batman appeared in your time before you appeared here... but you didn't meet, no?" "No." "So time is not working on the same scale for the two of you. He could have experienced days... maybe even weeks 'before' you showed up, even though it was supposedly an instantaneous transition..." "Your computer told you that?" "No. Another computer told me that. My computer just introduced us." "Well, you were right. That was complicated. Maybe you could just skip to the part of this theory where I get sent back." "Theoretically?" Babs glanced at her screen. "Tomorrow. Noon." "Thanks, gorgeous. You're a peach." **** Alexander Hazcook was in between the proverbial rock and a hard place. He wasn't sure he'd survive, even if he did write and introduce the legislation this grotesque little man so desired... in minutes, mind you, not the hours, days, weeks, it usually took... someone ELSE to do it! Hazcook wasn't even sure if he remembered how to start. That's when an eerie feeling overcame him. The hair on the back of his neck rose as the atmosphere in the room shook with electricity. Hazcook looked up. And saw a Batman. Silently, the Dark Knight ducked and avoided a pistol blast from one of Leech's two bodyguards, tossing a boomerang of some sort at the man and striking him square in the face. The other bodyguard attempted a more direct method of attack. He lunged at the man in black. Punch. Block. Punch. Duck. The Batman grabbed his wrist and head-butted the bodyguard, kneeing him in the groin and letting fly another two quick punches to the kidney as the bodyguard collapsed. The first man -- the shooter -- had regained his bearings and tried to shoot again. The Batman easily avoided the bodyguard's wide shots, swinging his cloak at the shooter. From the way the man's head snapped back, Hazcook guessed the cloak had weights in its seams. Quickly, the Batman pounced on the again-dazed individual, striking him repeatedly in the head. Well, what seemed like repeatedly... the poor man was unconscious after only two more hits. And then he moved against Leech who, lacking imagination (as was apparent by his plans to dissolve the world's government) felt that his bodyguards and his power-dampening abilities would be more than enough to assuage any possible threat. He was wrong. "Turn off the forcefield," the Batman breathed. Leech complied. **** The second Tim Drake sat alone in the Batcave, the hum of the computers his only companion. For a moment, Tim wondered what would happen if he was stuck here forever... and Bruce remained in his own time. ...Somehow he felt that the citizens of Gotham's present would be getting the short end of the stick. "There," Tim said, tossing aside his doubts. "Now all I have to do... is wait." He hit 'enter,' finalizing the message he had encrypted and left for Alfred... his Alfred to find. And unless Tim plugged in the wrong date, the phantom butler should find it in time to alert... **** ...Bruce could be a patient man. After all, he had schemed his whole life to become what he was, fighting day in and day out towards a single goal, the assurance that no other man, woman, or child should have to suffer as he did in the streets of his city. But he was anxious. He was impatient, he wanted -- needed -- to get back to that city, which was waiting for him some hundred odd years before. "When is this supposed to happen?" Clark asked. "According to Master Tim, it's the timely stroke o' 12, me lads." Alfred chimed in, slightly changing the nature of his accent. Bruce felt the urge to tell the robot to shut up. He resisted. "Clark, after I go I want you to look in a small hole in the cave three meters in that," Bruce pointed to his left, "direction." "What for?" "Trust me, Clark, and look." FLASH! **** Alfred Pennyworth poured a cup of tea for both Tim Drakes. "Thank you, Alfred," the younger Tim -- Robin -- said. "Of course." "This is taking too long," the older Tim -- Batman -- complained. "What's taking so long?" a voice came from behind. The three men in the cave turned to see Dick Grayson skipping down the stairs. "Dick! What are you doing here?" Robin asked. "I want you to meet someone..." "Who's this guy?" Dick asked, warily. "Where's Bruce?" "You!" Tim growled, remembering the face of Justice. Doesn't matter if it was a clone, or a fake, or the real mccoy... memories of broken bones and weeks in bed overrode Tim's common sense. He leapt at Grayson, punching him full in the mouth, and knocking him down. FLASH. Dick Grayson wasted no time, leaping back and throwing a punch of his own. It was caught in the rocklike grip of the Batman. The first Batman. The TRUE Batman. "Nightwing." Bruce Wayne exhaled. "What are you doing here?" "Bruce!" Dick stammered. "I-I'm sorry, I..." "Save it. I have something to take care of." Without further hesitation Bruce turned and got into the Batmobile -- HIS Batmobile. Resisting the urge to tell it to 'go', he turned the ignition and was off... ...To Metropolis. Silently, Bruce slipped into Clark Kent's apartment and found a photograph. Later, he would sign it and place it where he told Clark to look, and everything would be back to normal. **** "Let's go, pal!" Tim grunted. "Go... where, Master Tim? Perhaps the circus? I do fancy the circus..." "Shut up, Alfred." Tim sighed, closing his eyes. He was really home. A soft sobbing caused Tim's eyes to reopen. It was Clark. "Right where he said to look..." "Right where who?" Tim asked, still a bit... out of things. "Bruce." Clark held up a small, flat item... a photograph. A framed photograph. Of Clark... Lois... and what had to be the parents of one or the other. Look at how happy they were. There was some scribbling on the back of the frame... 'Wish you were here. -B' It took Tim only a moment to understand just how truly alone Clark felt. How do you drown that out? "Clark, did I ever mention to you I own a lot of businesses in this town? Alfred. Tell Clark how much I own." "Master Tim is responsible for forty-nine percent of the Gotham job market alone." "Alfred, do I own anything that has to do with publishing?" "Ah, nothing in town, sir." Damn. Something to remedy. "Tim, what are you doing?" "Clark -- you've been cooped up, y'know? Hanging around here with Alfred, can't be good. You were happiest when you came back from Metropolis." "Master Tim, you were in Italy when we returned from--" "Shut up, Alfred. You were the most happy then because you were out, interacting, doing the normal guy thing. I want to give that back to you." "Tim, thank you, but..." "Ah-ah-ah! Now, this is the part where you object and tell me how you want to do this on your own. Right? Of course, right... and ordinarily I'd respect that. However, you have no identity. Clark... you can't get a job without friends in high places. I wasn't looking to give you a cushy, do-nothing position, if that's what you think; I was looking to give you some options -- have you find something that suits you -- and then let you go to it." "Tim, I..." "Hey -- I'm a success because I know what to do with what I have. And with what other people have. Alfred, you know what Clark's good at. You know what I got. Make sure the twain meet -- I'm gonna hit the sack." "But Tim, I..." "No good, Master Clark. He's in his way again. Shall we begin?" **** J'onn wasn't entirely comfortable with what he was about to do, but knowledge of the future was too dangerous a commodity to possess, especially when he, himself, and others were to play a direct role in said future. They couldn't allow themselves to tamper with history, and the temptation would grow with each passing day... to save themselves, to save Dick Grayson, to save the world one more time. J'onn's mind reached out, capturing the mercurial mind of Wally West. He was fast, but not fast enough to outrun a thought. Gone was any knowledge of the Batman they had met and the future he had come from. Gone was the knowledge that anything had been amiss. J'onn said a silent prayer for forgiveness. Wonder Woman was next, and then Green Lantern. #Just what do you think you're doing?# Aquaman asked when J'onn's mind touched his. #Closing Pandora's Box.# #Our friend from beyond?# #Yes.# #I understand.# And that was all from the King of the Sea as J'onn removed all memory of Tim Drake from his mind. A joyful event Arthur wouldn't even remember to thank J'onn for. Clark's will was strong, and J'onn had a decidedly difficult time with his task; especially since Clark had every intention of preventing the one thing he'd heard Tim grumble about. He hadn't yet thought of those whose lives he would change... or erase, and what kind of domino effect his resolve to change that one thing would trigger. J'onn knew the old theory of sacrificing the few to save the many, but wasn't entirely sure of the ratio. It took time. It took concentration... but Clark Kent no longer remembered Tim Drake in any way. Bruce Wayne's partners - Oracle, Nightwing, Robin... the butler, Alfred... they would forget. And Bruce as well. His will proved even more formidable than Clark's... And now, the greatest test. J'onn himself needed to forget. To erase his own memories was something he had never tried, never dreamed of trying until now... but he needed to forget, he needed to not know anything about a visitor from beyond. He needed for things to be as they were; he needed this to be... **** THE END **** VISIT THE DCF DISCUSSION BOARD: http://disc.server.com/discussion.cgi?id=108808 And the Batman: DCF website: http://members.tripod.com/dcfbatman