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. **** Sarah Challa yawned, pouring her coffee. Two sugars. She really wished she could give the stuff up. "WHAT?" She exclaimed aloud, despite herself, spitting coffee out all over her new kitchen table. "BATMAN SPREADS VIGILANTE JUSTICE TO SAN FRANCISCO." That was what the newswire said. Batman. She'd told him that she would kill him if he ever set foot in her city; she didn't approve of distractions. And the jocular oaf was certainly that. A distraction that the woman called Lady Shiva did not want or need. She would hunt. And she would kill. He had, after all, been warned. **** BATMAN: DCF #48 **** Written and Directed by Erik Burnham darvey@rocketmail.com **** Batman created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger **** "Dark Knight Descending Part One (of two): Niner Country Clash" Lady Shiva: DCF created by Nick Bryan **** "Master Tim," Alfred said. "Have you read the newswire this morning?" "No Alfred," Tim breathed in between reps on the leg press. "I haven't." "Well sir, perhaps you should." "Just show me, Alfred. I don't need the theatrics." One of Alfred's metallic tentacles brought a NewsBoy (portable news delivery unit) to Tim in the Batcave's gym. All of the net services had picked it up: "BATMAN SPREADS VIGILANTE JUSTICE TO SAN FRANCISCO." Tim scanned the article. "They assume him to be a pretender, for now. But your tendency to fight the good fight elsewhere lends some skepticism to that theory." "Right," Tim said, continuing with his exercises. "You know what to do." "Your bags are already packed and ready, sir. I had a flash of foresight." "Good for you Alfred. Arrange for my private jet to be ready in an hour, willya?" "Very good, sir." Alfred lisped in a slightly different manner. "And cut the Vincent Price impression." "You're no fun anymore, sir." **** **Gulp** Jack Daniels never tasted so confusing. Jon Isaacs was in a bit of a quandary. Should he stay or should he go? He still had plenty to offer the PD. On the other hand, there was a creeping depression that had been getting steadily worse since the whole Clayface incident... and that certainly didn't help him any. He didn't want to end up like his old man, who was a boxer too stupid to see it was time to get out of the ring. Bruce Isaacs wound up getting carried from his last fight in a bodybag, leaving his family alone. Old warriors die, that's the order of things. They don't know how to do anything else BUT die, a little at a time. Their responsibility is to make sure their dying doesn't get in the way of anyone else's living. And, as the top cop, he had a lot of lives to avoid cocking up - even if none of them shared his blood. Let's be more responsible than the old man, huh Jon? Maybe throw in the towel? Or, we could pour another shot and see if the answer's at the bottom of the glass. **** Illness was not something that Clark Kent had ever been very intimate with. However, ever since he'd contracted (and beaten) the disease called Firebrand, he'd been more than a little under the weather. [This can be seen partly in Batman #47 and the upcoming Flash vol. 2 #1 and 2! -E] His powers had reverted back to just barely superhuman levels - which in and of itself was a cliché - while he recuperated. So since his general routine of playing 'Batman's little helper' was out, Clark returned to one of his first loves: writing. Now Clark had kept a running journal since his awakening last year [Batman #12, chronicled in the collection The Return -E], but he hadn't really flexed his mental muscles beyond that. Journalism had occurred to him - and Tim, and Alfred, and even Guy. But that was living in the past... and you can't make progress by moving backwards, or so Pa had always said. Perhaps a novel. He'd done fiction before, and it had been liberating in it's own way. Maybe it could help him figure things out. Clark thought about Alia Devin for a moment, the latest in a long and proud line of Speedsters that bore the mantle of Flash. She was faster than Wally was; and that's saying a lot. She was smart, too. Doctors in cutting edge fields of research tend to be that way. And he liked the way she smiled. Clark felt an urge to go down and have a chat with the doctor. It would be a mite one-sided, however... and he was in the mood for conversation. "Alfred." "Yes, Master of Steel?" "Cut that out. Feel like a trip to New York?" "Of course, sir. Mister Gardner still owes me a tidy sum from our last poker game." "Then hop into your android body, Alfred. Let's hit the road." **** San Francisco was an interesting city to visit. But I'm glad I don't live here, Tim thought as he rode above the city in his hoverlimo, heading for the hotel. Strange, wasn't it? He lived in one of the most corrupt places on Earth... but he wouldn't trade Gotham for any city in the world; he loved it, and it loved him... in both his guises. "Computer, give me a rundown of the local news headlines." The desired information flashed before Tim's face in a holographic display (as opposed to audio.) Normally, that wouldn't be so big a deal; however there are several different forms of holographics... one of which caused a small segment of the population severe headaches - and Tim was a part of that minority. And this limo just so happened to use that form of holographic projector. Tim's head throbbed as he read the latest in San Francisco news - several stories pertaining to this Batman; many witnesses had seen him stopping crimes around the city. The interesting thing, Tim noticed through the throbbing, is that there were no arrests stemming from these incidents. This Batman - by every account triumphant - didn't detain any of the criminals he faced? Maybe he was a killer. That was certainly a possibility, however there weren't any bodies found either. All the sightings were public and very urban. If bodies weren't left behind, they had to be disposed of... and none of the places 'Batman' had been seen lent themselves to the kind of discretion one would prefer in the disposal of a dead body or three. So do the math. High visibility. Obvious discrepancies. "Smells like an invitation." **** Interlude: Gotham City. Kylie Roarke and Paul Chandler are partners. That can be a very intimate thing: more so than friends, sometimes even more so than lovers. The things they knew about each other for certain, however, through all the time they'd worked together added up to each being former partners to Jon Isaacs (who was now the commissioner) and suffering tremendously through the course of the job. Some time ago, they promised each other a get together to discuss these personal demons of theirs. Better understanding of the other could only help them in the long run, considering the vicissitudes they'd already undergone. "So I'd just walked in with this blonde guy said he was Booster Gold," Paul said. "And I see the shrink - Wight - standing there with Bowles his hostage. The rest is a blur. Booster fell unconscious." Paul paused, staring into his coffee. He lowered his voice before continuing, so as not to let anyone else within earshot in the cafe hear what he was about to say. "And then, I fired a shot and killed the hostage." "There wasn't any alternative?" Kylie asked. She had heard this story a thousand times since transferring to the GCPD. Paul Chandler, good cop from a long line of good cops, kills hostage in cold blood. For that, most of the grunts revered him as a god - Bowles was scum - but the public and the Internal Affairs bureau... they weren't quite as impressed with the incident. Still, she'd never heard the story from his side before. "There could have been," Paul said, matter-of-factly. "But I didn't see it at the time. Hell, I still don't know what came over me; I'd never had to fire more than a handful of shots my entire career, and I was always careful." "What happened then?" "Then, then it was all a blur. I remember Batman showing up briefly. And I remember Jon - not so much what he said, just the tone of his voice. Like a mom, almost, weird as it sounds. And I remember being led away." Kylie nodded, taking note of how quiet Paul had gotten. He continued: "And so I was in jail for the first time in my life. You can't imagine how it affected my family. My mother wouldn't speak to me, and she wouldn't let my father, either." Pregnant pause. "He was very sick while I was being held... he died before my hearing, and I never got to say goodbye. Do you know what that's like?" Kylie felt a lump in her throat. She knew that pain, all too well. "Anyways," Paul said after a moment of silence that he couldn't stand, "Mark Grayson took care of it. I don't know what he said or who he talked to, but he got me out of jail. The charges were reduced, but my eligibility to remain an officer... that was still in question. I went on a vacation of sorts; stayed with my cousin Jon in Kingston." Sip of coffee. "And then, it turned out that Wight was an ESPer, y'know, telepathic. That went a long way. It was hypothesized that he was behind my shot. When he pulled the same stunt trying to frame the rich boy, Drake, and killed... Grayson..." More silence. "That clinched it, and I was let back as soon as Jon signed the papers." Paul sighed again. "But it wasn't soon enough, Roarke, not by a long shot." Paul drained the rest of the coffee in his mug and said, "Think we should call it a night? You've got a speaking engagement tomorrow." Kylie looked at her watch. "Yeah. Dixonhurst High School." "Don't sound so excited, partner. You lost the coin toss fair and square." **** Back in San Francisco, the pale light of the moon shimmered on the bay. The view is incredible, Sarah thought as she pulled the sleek microsteel-fiber bodysuit on, silently preparing for the hunt. She loved her new apartment. Part of the spoils of war. Crippling Zorro had become profitable, and her sovereignty over the city was becoming more reality by the day. And then, enter the Batman. She had first met him in Gotham City several months back, when she had tracked an operation of Zorro's to the east. The crimelord had set it up hoping the two vigilantes would kill each other - but the Batman was nowhere near as skilled as his reputation would have one believe. Perhaps he'd improved some. It didn't matter. His presence alone would eventually undermine her influence. That was not permissible. He would have to die. It was simple. Sarah Challa enjoyed her 'career' as Shiva. It was the only thing on this earth that had ever come close to making her happy. No one would take that from her - not Batman, not anyone. She still felt a rush when she pulled on-- **** --The mask. How many dozens of times had Tim put it on in the course of the past year plus? There was never any sense of apprehension, even when he'd first put on his costume, unaware of his destiny. He'd never felt any anxiety over his role before. Not until now, anyway. Tim Drake stood in his hotel room, dressed in full as the Batman - save the mask. He had begun to put it on when a wave of paranoid terror washed over him. Why? He didn't know. It had never happened before. C'mon, Tim. If you don't put the mask on, you're not going to be as effective. Face it, Timothy Drake II doesn't exactly project an aura of fear all by his lonesome. Finish getting dressed and go stop the imposter. Insert heavy sigh as Tim stares into the mask's empty eye slits. **** She had been searching the city for several long hours with no luck, staying near to the sites of the previous sightings, which were conspicuously near to each other. Was Batman was afraid to stray more than four blocks from Hollenbeck Fountain? That made little sense. But sense be damned, facts were still facts... and certainties were important to Lady Shiva. Wait. A flash of movement, down in the alley. A mugging. Shiva felt a momentary impulse to assist the victim; however, he served her better as bait. The Batman did not disappoint, appearing from near thin air. A flurry of movement and the mugger lay unconscious at the vigilante's feet. Shiva's hand moved silently to a pouch on her belt. She felt the distinctive shape of shuriken in her gloved fingers and let fly. ... ...But the Batman remained standing. She missed? Impossible. She looked down upon him, her presence no longer a secret, and saw him looking up at her with that damnable grin... "I warned you!" Shiva yelled, leaping from her perch. She used a grapple hidden within the gauntlet she wore on her right arm to control her descent somewhat, but she landed on her feet, ready to fight. Her opponent, however, was no longer there. There was nothing for him to hide behind, and he had not taken to the skies. What was this? Shiva neatly growled in frustration. "You sound disappointed." It was him. Behind her. That voice was unmistakable. But something about it sounded... different. Shiva turned to see the Batman, but this man, despite the voice, was not the same one she had met all those months ago. This man was a warrior. So be it, she was not one to waste words. She shot the electrified tentacle from her left gauntlet at the Batman, who quickly raised his cape in his hands, insulating his hand enough to snatch it in midair... and pull Shiva to him. This took her by surprise. Three times in one night, the impossible had happened. Shiva was decidedly unsatisfied. "My doppelganger," the Batman said, holding Shiva tight. "Where is he?" Try as she might, there was not enough leverage for Shiva to break his grasp. He was stronger than he appeared. "I don't know." Batman released her. "I believe you. Stay out of my way." The arrogance! "This is my town, intruder. I will..." A wave of dizziness unlike any Shiva had ever experienced. Darkness followed. And before Batman could do anything about it one way or another, he joined Shiva in unconsciousness. **** TO BE CONTINUED! **** NEXT ISSUE: The conclusion to this tale! **** GOING BATTY **** Yes I have letters - they all have to run next issue, though, because I want to get this issue out NOW and Yahoo is in a snit! (; So look for a letter for #45, a couple for #47, and any I get for #48 in the next issue! #50 is breathing down my neck now, and the pressure is on to DO something with it! Eeyikes! This issue, by the by, was written to the new Green Day CD, Warning, the Red Hot Chili Peppers' Otherside (from Californication), the Coneheads soundtrack, and VH1 Crossroads vol.1. Just so's you know. Seeya soon! -E