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 #28 **** Written and Directed by Erik Burnham darvey@rocketmail.com **** BATMAN created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger BATMAN: DCF created by Erik Burnham **** "Biff, Pow, Whack!" **** It was like there was this little voice on his shoulder reminding him about all of the problems he had to face. An annoying stereotypical sitcom conscience to the Nth degree. "What about Shannon? Are you abandoning her?" the voice would say. "Shannon is safe. She's carrying their new experiment, they're not going to hurt her," Tim would reply, silently, to himself. "And I suppose Clark and Alfred are supposed to fend for themselves?" "Well, they're fully capable of it." "Poor Ennis is lying in a hospital bed..." "...And will be out before the end of the week." "Back to run your company, the company you neglect." "Because I'm doing something I feel is more important." "Only because you were programmed to feel that way." "Not everything I do is programmed. Besides, I like being a hero." "Some hero you are. You've let people die, you've coasted through things by the seat of your pants, and you're not even in Gotham now, when the weird things start happening! I tell you--" "I think you've told me enough." Tim shut the guilty little voice out of his head and prayed it wasn't another deeply buried failsafe called insanity. Still -- the little voice had a good point. Tim was taking this all a little bit too calmly for a man who just found out most of his life was pre-approved by some nut who just happened to run the Justice League and, by way of puppet politicians, the majority of the world as well. But calm was the way to do things. Tim would be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to start destroying things. Beat Justice to within an inch of his life for presuming that he could manipulate a human being's life in such a manner. But what would that get him? Besides some self- satisfaction, that is. Justice was a devious sort. He probably had backup plans to his backups and failsafes Tim could never even begin to piece together before they'd done their damage. He wasn't psychic, after all... well, for all he knew, anyway. Quick, look to the brunette sitting three tables over sipping her espresso quietly. What was she thinking? No luck. No X-Ray vision, either. Damn. Tim sighed and let his mind drift inward again, wandering from the reality that was the ristorante he had been sitting at for much of the afternoon and returning to the problems at hand, problems he had been wrestling with for the better part of a month. Problems like the fact he knew -- KNEW -- he wasn't normal. Holmes had alluded to a shortcut. Tim wondered to himself, what kind of shortcut could possibly have been used to make him better than the next guy? How about a metagene? Nothing fancy, nothing obvious. Nothing that would make you fly or lift trucks. Nothing that couldn't easily be covered up. Of course, there was the possibility Tim was wrong about that. His detective skills didn't exactly give Sherlock Holmes... or Marc Chandler, for that matter... a run for their money. But there was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that gnawed at him when he thought of being a meta. It had to be the truth. He would be tested -- by a reliable source -- just to be sure. But it was better to accept it now. He wasn't a normal human being, and all of his accomplishments weren't quite fairly won. And that irked Tim like nothing else. But he had to accept it. Like the old man had said, the more time one spends worrying about a problem is the less time one has to solve it. Accept it and move on, Tim. That's what Richard Drake would say if he were here. Make the best of it, turn it to your advantage. Tim missed his father. He wished that he could talk to him, to ask him for some fresh advice instead of having to remember past lessons. But he would be the stronger for figuring this out on his own. And then, boy. Then he'd go to town on the bastards who tried to push him around. "Another espresso, waiter," Tim said in his passable Italian. He suddenly felt like staying a while longer. **** My name is Robin. What I was called originally is not important. I am Robin now, and that is all that matters. I was taken from a cradle of naivete by Justice. I was given an honor many can only dream of. I was chosen to become one of the Former. I was chosen to assume the mantle of one of the legends. I was chosen. That is something that means more to me than life itself. I was chosen. And now I had an assignment, a special assignment, given to me by the leader himself. I was to apprehend the Batman. I was to become a hero. I still remember being summoned to his office not more than an hour ago. **** "Ah, Robin." Justice's voice was deep and warm. "Good to see you." "Yes, sir! The pleasure is all mine, sir!" "At ease, young man. Please. Have a seat." Robin remembered the excitement of talking to Justice. It was so great, so electrifying, he could barely sit still in front of the man. "Now, Robin. I have a mission for you. A mission of great importance." "Yes, sir." "I need you to go to Rome for me and find a deep cover operative of ours who seems to have lost his way." "Lost his way, sir? I don't understand." Justice smiled, bringing up a holopic of Tim Drake. "This is Bryan Schuyler, who is perhaps better known to the world at large as Batman." "Wow..." Robin breathed. "That's really him?" "Yes, Robin, it is. Now, Schuyler has been impersonating billionaire Timothy Drake as of late, by Mr. Drake's request, in order to capture a violent stalker. Mr. Drake was in fear for his life, you see, as this stalker is an apparent Meta." "Couldn't Mr. Drake have hired a bounty hunter, sir?" "He could have, yes. In point of fact, he did -- it's just a pity he didn't choose more wisely. The hunter had no chance against the stalker, and it only increased the animosity. Hence, our switch." "I see, sir." "That's what I like to hear, Robin. Now, Schuyler did his duty -- the stalker has been nullified. Our only problem is now Schuyler believes he is still Tim Drake! We need to deprogram him, and we need to deprogram him quickly." "Where do I come in, sir?" "That's the thing. Schuyler is still active as Batman. We're hoping to appeal to that persona by sending you." "Sir?" "His Batman identity is at the core of his personality, Robin. By sending you, we hope to remind him who he is, who he was... and what he was to be. Do you think you can do it?" "I can... I can try, sir." "Good. Good. Ms. Holloway will brief you on your way to Rome. Consider this a final test of your abilities, Robin. Your first field assignment." "Yes sir!" Robin grinned. "Dismissed," Justice commanded. And, as the boy marched from the office: "Computer, connect me with Jenna Holloway, 212-33-5." The screen behind Justice lit up with the face of a raven-haired woman in the middle of a mound of paperwork, pushing her glasses up to her face even as the teleline connection startled her and knocked them back to the end of her nose. "Yes, sir?" Jenna Holloway responded blankly. "You're to board a transport to Rome with the operative Robin. His target is Timothy Drake. Brief the boy with the Schuyler file, and let him loose." "What timetable is he looking at? We'll have to schedule his return and..." "Just drop him off, Ms. Holloway. He won't be returning." "Yes, sir." **** Tim Drake found himself drifting in that little area just outside of consciousness while lying in his hotel room. It was rather nice. So, going over the day thus far: Woke up, went through a little angst. Went for a run in the hotel gym, boxed eight rounds with the sparring droid, took a long shower. Had a long "lunch" with one of the hotel employees, a stunning young woman with bright green eyes. Felt guilty, thought about Shannon, went back for another twelve rounds with the droid and an intense three- hour workout. Went for a walk, found a nice little ristorante, grabbed a paper and espresso, and sat. Was interrupted by yet another mysterious figure. By this point, it was such a common occurrence it didn't even bother him. The man -- Laufeyson -- warned him about some 'child.' Tim shrugged, downed some more espresso, and returned to the hotel for a massage. And now, he was lying in bed. Not a bad day by anyone's standards. Pure escapism. Now, he had to think. He'd let himself get away from his responsibilities for long enough. He needed to worry now. To let himself be the Batman. But wasn't that the problem? Wasn't that what they wanted? If he was the Batman, then didn't they win? If he wasn't the Batman, didn't they also win? "Damned if I do and damned if I don't," Tim sighed. He wished he could allow himself to go to Clark and Alfred. ...Or back to that woman with the green eyes. Sorry, Shannon. **** 'He was certainly easy to find,' Robin thought, looking at Tim Drake through the field glasses he'd had in his belt. He looked a lot like the Drake Robin had been briefed on. Probably make-up. The Batman was supposed to be the best there was. So good even he didn't know it. Deep breath. Close your eyes. You can do this. Attack. **** Did you ever have that experience where you were just about sleeping -- not quite, but almost -- and some sound or image inside your head caused you to 'fall awake,' feeling literally as though you were dropped back into your own body? Not exactly the most settling way to waken. Tim heard the glass shatter, felt himself "drop," and reacted -- rolling off the bed and into a crouch on the floor. In front of him he saw a skinny man or teen with a full face mask, brown hair flowing from the top. The mask was forest green, flowing down his neck and joining a cape. His bodysuit was a dark red, with black boots and gloves, as well as a small black 'R' placed over his heart like a badge. "Welcome wagon?" Tim asked. "You're coming with me." "Riiiiiight." Tim rolled out of the way as quickly as he could, narrowly avoiding a dart fired from the boy's wrist, tapping a button on his wrist and racing for the balcony. "Mr. Schuyler, you have to come with me. We need to deprogram you!" "No thank you, bright eyes! I've had enough of that kind of scene!" "Mr. Schuyler!" Robin yelled as Tim -- no doubt wondering just what was wrong with this kid -- leapt off his thirtieth-story balcony... ...And into the waiting cockpit of the Batmobile. Robin watched from above, making brief eye contact with his target as the canopy of the sleek hovercar closed. "This isn't over, Mr. Schuyler." **** Tim Drake took a moment to think about what had just happened. Some mook in a bright red suit had just broken into his room, called him by a name that was absolutely not his own, and insisted that he was to be deprogrammed. Now, Tim was not a betting man, but if he was, he'd lay some serious change down on the kid being brainwashed. The suit looked like an exoskeleton, probably had all the right moves programmed in. What the hell -- Tim WAS a betting man. This kid was another victim, and that was just NOT going to fly. Tim reached back and felt the cool, smooth texture of his costume. The Batman hadn't seen action in a while... and 'they' obviously knew where he was. Why not? "Alright, wonderboy... Let's get it on." Tim smiled, pulling his costume on and programming the Batmobile to return to the hotel. **** Robin had decided to make use of his time in "Drake's" hotel room and troll for something he could use when he caught up with his target. Something personal that would aid him in the completion of his assignment once he tracked Schuyler down once again. Something like... "Ah, ah ah! No peeking. You may find my naughty magazines." That voice. It was the same, only deeper. Whispier. Angry. Robin turned to face the Batman for the first time, the giant red bat glistening in the fluorescent light. "I take it you were looking for me?" the dark voice asked. Robin imagined a smile from the tone, but the eyes he saw looking back at him were filled with anger. "Mr. Schuyler, I have been assigned to bring you back in for..." "There is no Schuyler, kid. There is me. Now, you can try to take me in if you want, but I guarantee -- I won't be going quietly." "Yes, sir." Robin leapt at the Batman with a speed that guaranteed he was wearing an exo-suit. Tim dodged, but barely. This suit had all the extras. 'Roll with it, flip, land on your feet,' Robin thought. 'You can do this. You can DO this.' "I have to take you in, sir. You will come with me," Robin said. 'Again with the darts?' Tim thought, easily dodging them -- and running right into another flying tackle. Tim had the kid, though. Suit or no, he was just a ninety-pound nothing. No offense intended. "Listen, junior. You're no physical match for me, all right? You're going to have to go back to Holmes or Justice or whoever the hell it was that sent you and tell them to come themselves. I've got a few things I'd like to ram down their throats. Do that for me, and I'll buy you a puppy." And then, Tim dropped Robin. ...And watched him reach for his belt buckle, pushing a button. ...And watched him shake like a rag doll in an antique dryer. ...And standing. ...And... oh, my. There are some things you notice right away. Women in bathing suits made out of dental floss comes to mind. Gaudily colored vehicles. Oh, yeah -- and a 90 pound wannabe bulking up to linebacker status in roughly a second and a half. Attention grabber, that. "Mr. Schuyler, you are under arrest," Robin said. "You better cut the steroids, pal, before someone puts a saddle on you!" Tim said, shocked. He knew what it was, of course. He'd read the files. Venom. Just then, before any kind of battle could be joined, a buzz filled the room. Security screens showed the woman with the green eyes ringing the buzzer. Oops. "Say, spunky -- let me ask you a question." Robin did not answer. "What's the better part of valor?" And Tim... ran. Back to the balcony. "Schuyler!" Robin growled, seized by a rage he had never known. "Get BACK here!" As he reached the balcony, Robin's rage intensified. Where had the Batman gone? **** This is probably not a good idea, Tim thought as he leapt from above, tackling the now-gigantic kid in the red suit, taking him into a thirty-story drop. "You tricked me!" Robin yelled, swiping at the air. "Well, that's what the hero does, junior. Take a page from the comic books." "You'll kill us both!" "No..." Tim paused for effect. "No, I'm pretty sure I won't do that." But they were falling. Very fast. 'God? Make sure I'm not a liar, alright?' Tim prayed as he activated his airfoils. **** Patty Hollander was enjoying a delicious meal when she heard a loud crash. Reacting instinctively, her head jerked towards the direction of the sound and she saw... him. The Batman. No. Not again. "I hope that took the fight out of you..." Tim warned. "You are under arrest, Mr. Schuyler." Robin repeated. "You... you are... you..." Robin stumbled, collapsing. "You killed him!" Patty found herself yelling, irrationally. Batman must have agreed, according to his body language as he spun towards her. "Do I know you?" the Bat asked. "Why couldn't you just stay in Gotham?" "Ah. Faithful fan. I go where I'm needed, baby. Remind me to give you my card." Patty was going to say something else, but she -- egotistical as any lawyer in history -- demanded to be heard. And it was readily apparent that the Batman just wasn't listening as he scooped the other man up and carried him into the sky on a slim cable line... **** Justice sat in his new office and stared idly at a small holographic image of tropical fish, floating before him on his desktop. In his own way, Justice missed his island [Sank over in THE FLASH - E], his home for so many years. In truth, it didn't really matter where he was. He was, in effect, everywhere. The fish blinked out, replaced by the somber face of Jenna Holloway. "Excuse me, sir -- you requested I notify you as soon as we retrieved Robin?" "Yes, Ms. Holloway. Go on." "He failed to achieve his objective..." "His objective, Ms. Holloway, was to be the final acid test to our new Venom formula... and, of course, put our little friend through his paces." "I see..." "Did his heart explode?" Justice asked, rather calmly. "Yes, sir, about ten minutes after he first allowed the drug into his system." "Alas, poor Jason, I knew him well." "Sir?" "Waxing Shakespearian, Ms. Holloway. I trust our other little bird is still responding to the treatment?" "Yes, sir. Quite well, in fact. We're finally starting to break through his defenses." "Excellent." Justice grinned beneath his mask and disconnected Holloway. He had finally found the perfect Robin for his Batman. No longer the disposable Redshirt, this one was a keeper. Things would just take a little more time to prepare... **** END! **** NEXT ISSUE: Mercury blues. And for more on ROBYN and Robin, make sure to check out The FALL of ROBYN one-shot and AND JUSTICE FOR ALL #6! **** GOING BATTY **** Letters! Here we go! (Keep 'em coming!) Date:Sun, 7 Feb 1999 20:30:53 -0800 (PST) From:Jason Tippitt