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.

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BATMAN: DCF #30

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Written and Directed by Erik Burnham
darvey@rocketmail.com

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BATMAN created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger
BATMAN: DCF created by Erik Burnham

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"Homecoming"

NOTE:  THIS STORY TAKES PLACE AFTER THE EVENTS IN AND
JUSTICE FOR ALL #10...

****

"Looks like its time for me to head out."  Tim Drake
looked out at the intricate patterns formed by the
cobbled stones of Danny the Street from the warmth of
Eve Tresser's quarters.

"Are you sure?" Eve whispered, propping herself up in
her bed.  "You nearly died..."

"I was mostly dead, not all dead." Tim smiled. 
"Apparently Justice and co. did a better job building
me than anyone expected."

"Tim..." Eve's voice went even softer.  "I was so
worried."

"I won't tell a soul," Tim smiled, adding: "Thank
you.  And Mercury."

Tim lay down next to Eve, embracing her.  They kissed
once more; knowing their time was growing short.

****

Gotham City is dying, he thought, and that is bad for
business.

The man who had come to think of himself as Clayface
looked down upon the city from the penthouse offices
of the now dead Angel Tuscotti, his predecessor.

"Ms. Miller, would you be so kind as to *cough* come
here, please?"  Clayface asked, mimicking Angel
Tuscotti's voice to near perfection, even as his
pliable skin began to form into an exact replica of
the dead kingpin.

"Yes, sir?" Staci Miller, Mr. Tuscotti's personal
secretary, asked poking her head in the door.

" Come here, Staci."

Staci walked into the room, wondering at the tone of
her boss' voice.  Why did he seem to be getting
farther away with each step she took?  She was so
tired all of a sudden... no more trips to the wetbar
during lunch... no more...

Clayface/Angel looked down at the now unconscious
woman and smiled, waiting for the odorless gas he'd
released to clear the room before he allowed the skin
he'd used to filter his air to retract.

"Remove her," Clayface commanded his ADM, which
swiftly and silently carried out his commands.

****

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?" Mercury
asked Tim through a blur of motion.

"Yeah," Tim said.  "I think I am.  I didn't know I'd
heal up so quickly, but here we are."

All three of the individuals standing in Eve's office
flashed to the beating Tim had taken at the hands of
Justice two weeks before, and shivered to themselves.
 It was something no one should have been able to
walk away from alive.

"Keep in touch," Eve whispered into Tim's ear,
kissing him softly on the cheek.

"I will," Tim whispered back.  "Danny, can you get me
home?"

There was a slight whooshing sound that Tim wasn't
sure he'd ever heard before, a quiet goodbye from
Danny the Street as Tim stepped out onto the lawn of
Wayne Manor and towards the home he hadn't set foot
in in almost two months.

Tim felt invigorated, though.  Between what Alfred
had been able to steal from the Justice League
computers and his own firsthand experiences, Tim knew
who he was and what he was about - now more than
ever.  He had so much to do... but where should he start?

****

 "Has it ever been this bad?" Kylie Roarke asked.

"Not in my time," Jon Isaacs replied somberly. 
"Never."  He lit up a cigarette.  "This is what
happens when the walls come down."

For two weeks the blue-shirted members of Gotham's
finest, each and every one of the 5,000 common
officers of the law, had been on strike.  There were
a few dozen detectives and a handful of vigilantes -
like the Sandman, for instance - left to try and stem
the tide of insanity washing over the city.

They weren't doing such a great job.  Earlier that
week, some enterprising graffiti artist had started
painting "Welcome to Bludhaven" on several signs and
walls around the city.

Isaacs didn't need any reminders about where the city
was headed.

"What about the League?" Kylie wondered.  "I thought
you said..."

"Martial law?  Chaos?  Well, I got it half right. 
The official position of the United Nations and the
Justice League is that they have no time or desire to
clean up our problems, and it is officially Gotham
City vs. Gotham City.  Either we shape up, or, one
day when someone's bored, the bombs'll start to drop.
 Comforting, isn't it?"

"What does that mean, Jon?  How long do we have?"

"How long did Bludhaven get?  As far as I know,
they're still going strong.  Boston, too.  It looks
like they plan on simply abandoning all hope and
concentrating on the more 'worthwhile' cities.  No
more funding, that means.  No more businesses allowed
to come it, no more updated equipment, no more fixing
the damage done, no more access to the UN policeman's
pool for recruits or back up... until we get this under
control, we're on our own."

"It's happened before."

"In the 90's, yeah, I know.  After the Quake.  But
this is different, Ky... they had some hope.  We don't
have anything now.  And as far as back up? Maybe
sixty folks left carryin' badges that aren't on
strike right now.  Then there's the Sandman - too
erratic to be any good.  What we got, Ky is..."

"...A problem, Commissioner?"

That voice.  That smart-alecky voice.  Jon Isaacs'
wasn't sure if he'd ever hear it again, but sure
enough; hanging upside down outside his window... was
the Batman.

****

 Shannon Mitchells awoke bathed in the synthetic
sunlight hospitals liked to use to make their
patients feel comfortable.

Where was she?  How long had she been out?

Tim?

The baby!

"..." Shannon tried, but her throat was dry and sore. 
She couldn't force the words out of her mouth. 
Instead, realizing at last that she was in a
hospital, she frantically pushed the nurse call
button to the side of her bed.  

A pleasant looking older woman arrived seconds later,
smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"Well, look who's finally awake!" the nurse said
through polished teeth.

"..." Shannon tried to speak again, but couldn't.  The
nurse patted her hand.

"Your throat's a bit dry from the medication.  You've
been in an induced coma for quite some time, Ms.
Mitchells.  The drugs we had to use to reverse it,
well, I'm afraid they'll make it a bit difficult to
speak, at least for a time.

Shannon pointed to her stomach; the nurse did not
seem to understand.

"Are you hungry, dear?"

Shannon grunted and shook her head no.  She again
pointed to her stomach and momentarily sucked her
thumb hoping the nurse would understand this.

The older woman went pale.  Apparently she did.

"Oh... oh, I'm sorry.  You have no idea, do you?"

Shannon could feel her eyes welling with tears.  She
knew instinctively what was coming.  She didn't want
to hear it.

"When you were brought here, we were told that you...
you miscarried while you were in your coma.  I'm so
sorry..."

Shannon was crying freely now.  But who had brought
her here?  And why had she fallen into the coma? 
Where was Tim?

"...W-who..." Shannon managed before her voice completely
gave out.

The nurse turned to a large bouquet of flowers
sitting by the bed, and handed Shannon the card.

"Here you are, dear.  I'll just get you some water..."

The note read:

'I'm so sorry..."

It was signed 'Dad.'

****

"So I take a little vacation and this is what
happens?  Jon, I'm disappointed in you."

"You're the whole reason this is happening, you
freak!  If you hadn't shown up, there wouldn't have
been any situation like this in the-" 

"Jon." Kylie warned.  "He's here to help.  Let him."

Jon Isaacs looked at Kylie, unblinking.  And then at
Batman, who was leaning against the wall, his arms
crossed before him.

"What can he do?"

"He can do what he did before," Kylie said.

"I can answer for myself, detective."  Batman's
haughty façade had disappeared.  He walked closer to
Isaacs, his eyes showing a deadly seriousness the
likes of which neither of the two detectives present
had ever seen before.

"I love this city, commissioner.  I know you might
not believe it, but I do.  And I'm not one to sit by
and watch something I love be destroyed.  You and I
have had our differences; people are like that. 
People can also resolve their differences.  I'm
willing if you are."

The Batman paused.  Isaacs said nothing, so the dark
knight continued.

"I've been in this city for almost a year, Jon...
almost a year.  And during that time, I've tried to
do what I could.  I've stopped rapists, muggers... some
murders.  I've seen things that many people haven't,
but still... I haven't lived up to the responsibility. 
I'm supposed to be the Batman, commissioner; a beacon
of justice... yet I've been selfish, picking the
battles I've fought too carefully.  I let the men and
women of the police force attack the real problems,
while I contented myself with the easy victories.

"A friend of mine would have been disappointed in me,
if I hadn't convinced him long ago I was doing all I
could.  That was a lie, sir, and I mean to make up
for it now... if you'll have me."

Jon Isaacs had seen a lot of things in his forty-six
years on the planet... but he had never seen anything
like this.  This man... this Batman whom he had so
hated, had just summed up Jon's own feelings about
him, and had done it in an honest and decent manner.

Jon admired the guts it took to say that, and felt
such a display should be rewarded... with a chance.

So like Mark Grayson before him, Jon Isaacs held out
his hand, in friendship, to the Batman.

****

"Oh my," Alfred said aloud, scanning through the data
on the screen before him with a speed unmatchable by
any human being.  "I can't believe I was a party to
this."

Alfred - back in his android body - was looking at
the information he had stolen from the Justice League
computers on the Batman.  It was Master Tim's hope
that all of this heavily classified information would
never again belong to anyone not intimately
associated with his cause.

Alfred had successfully purged all League computers
of this information.  Every one that knew about it
was either dead or in no hurry to talk... just how
Master Tim desired it.

But the information... the planning... the goals... it was
staggering, even to Alfred.

It seemed like a soap opera, almost.

"YOU'VE GOT MAIL" the computer screen flashed. 
Alfred smiled, clicking open the note.

"Alfred -

"It was nice to hear of your Metropolitan adventures;
haven't had a laugh like that since John woke up
believing the urinal was in his closet!

"Please keep me abreast of any more entertaining
developments; Heaven knows I could use the laughter!

"Best, Barnabas"

Good old Barnabas, Alfred thought.  It is good to
hear from that rascal again.  I shall have to
remember to forward him the video of Master Tim
attempting to keep up with a boxing droid set to
challenge a member of the Flash Corps...

...Master Tim...

Alfred wondered what his friend would do once he
digested some of this information.  He did know the
bulk of it already, but some of it... some of it could
be detrimental to his state of being.  Perhaps...
perhaps some things should best be kept quiet.

And with that, Alfred purged the file marked
"advancements."  No man could be happy knowing the
future.

****

"You're on Bat turf, homey."

Bryan Hall knew he shouldn't have taken that last
turn.  He knew it, he knew it, he knew it.  And now...
now his ancient Chevy Pizzazz hovercycle - which
couldn't hover more than five feet off the ground, it
was so old - was surrounded by a bunch of punks
wearing masks and Batman t-shirts. Some of the bats
were red, some yellow... but all of them had fangs
drawn on their faces.

Bryan was scared.

"You know what happens when you mess with the Bats?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

The gang - not to mention Bryan Hall - looked up in
unison.  Standing on the ledge of an old building,
half covered in shadows was...

"Sandman!" Bryan shouted.

"Not quite, pal.  Guess you didn't see the cape."

The Batman leapt from higher ground to the street
effortlessly, effectively spooking all present.

"You ain't the Bat, the Bat is dead!"

"Then call me Deadman," Tim whispered.  "And prepare
to be arrested."

"By who?  Cops are gone!"

"Don't say I didn't warn you..." Tim said, the gravel
in his voice apparent.

He catapulted himself into the thick of the gang,
raining down incapacitating blows upon the foolish
children that tried to steal his mask for their own
ends.

A broken leg here, a broken rib there, here a bone,
there a bone, everyone gets a broken bone...

"Stop!"

Tim looked up.  One of the boys had gotten hold of
the citizen, and was holding a plasma knife to his
throat.

Tim's choice was kill the brat or let him go.  Kill
the brat, or let him go.  Kill the psychotic kid who
would think to hold that kind of a weapon to a human
being, or let him go... to do it someplace else, with
no restrictions.  This was not looking good.

All of a sudden a dark flash came out of the sky, and
Bryan Hall was alone.  Quickly, he hopped back on his
hovercycle and jetted away from the scene.  Tim
looked to his left.

All of the gang members were handcuffed.

The lead punk was pinned to the wall by a length of
steel piping.

Tim could only smile, dropping a homing beacon at the
site for the active members of the GCPD to pick up on
and shooting a line back up to the ledge, where he
found his guardian angel.

"Nice piece of work, Clark."

"It's good to be able to do it again."

Tim regarded his friend, wearing a sleek black
bodysuit and matching domino mask, with silver
wristbands and a large, silver pentagonal shield on
his chest... Clark looked like he meant business again,
which was... well, comforting.

"Aren't you missing a letter?" Tim asked, pointing to
the blank shield.

"No." Clark said matter-of-factly.  "That belongs to
someone else now."

"I see."

"Don't worry, Tim." Clark grinned.  "I'm not upset. 
That chapter in my life is closed.  There are capable
people caring for Metropolis, and as much as it pains
me to admit it, I don't really belong there any more.
 It's changed too much."

"And we need you here."

"And you need me here."

"So how much of your abilities have come back?  And
when did this happen?"

"I'd say I'm at about half of what I was... and they
just... they just did."  Clark cocked his head to the
side.  "Excuse me, Tim.  Duty calls... I'm still not
sure how Bruce did this..."

And then Clark was gone.  Tim summoned the Batmobile
to his location.  He would ask Clark about the
emergency later; in the meantime, he had his own
battles to fight.

And as the Batmobile silently slid into view, Tim
suddenly had an answer to Clark's question...

"Because he had to, Clark.  And because he could."

****

END!

****

NEXT ISSUE: A villain we haven't seen in quite some
time...
 
****

GOING BATTY

****

Unfortunately, I have to apologize... I did have
several letters to print in this issue, but they were
eaten by my email!  So my apologies to those of you
that did write in, and I hope for more letters.  In
the meantime, I'd like to tell you a bit about what's
coming up in the pages of Batman: DCF.  MORE
VILLAINS!  Yes, Bats is now back at home, where he
belongs.  Clark is busying himself out in the wilds
of Gotham autonomously.  Alfred is sorting Justice
League data... and the city is nuts.  That means,
ladies and gents, its time for the Batman to whomp
some opportunistic rear-ends!  Some of these faces
you've seen before.  Some are new.  But folks, those
of you who have been screaming for a rogue's gallery
are gonna finally get it!

...And with that, I bid you adieu until next time!

-Erik

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