Chapter Text
“Master Bruce, Are you heading out tonight?” Alfred asked. He quietly collected the empty bowl beside Bruce.
Bruce rubbed his eyes. “Probably. I’m just waiting for the signal to come up.”
“You shouldn’t need to wait to go out,” Alfred stated.
“I really don’t want to go out tonight. My shoulder still hurts from a few weeks ago,” Bruce sighed. He leaned back in his chair, eyes trained on the screen in front of him.
Alfred took a deep breath. “I told you it wouldn’t hurt if you took care of it properly.”
“I told you it would just keep getting injured,” Bruce remarked. On one of the screens, the signal flicked on. Bruce groaned and stood up. Alfred gave him a slight wave before he went back upstairs.
Bruce’s process to put on the suit was arduous. He did the makeup first, then everything else. The suit was restricting and frankly, uncomfortable. Despite weeks working and making a redesign of the cowl, it was still difficult for Bruce to turn his head. Easier than the first design, but still not the best.
By the time Bruce was at the spotlight, the commissioner was checking his watch. “What took you so long to get here?”
“I had business,” Bruce responded.
“Well, the ruckus I want you to get today will be easy to spot. A bonfire just up north of here. The kids who started it have been terrorizing people trying to get back to their cars,” Gordon explained.”You shouldn’t be able to miss it.”
Bruce nodded. In complete silence, he left the commissioner on the rooftop. The engine of his motorcycle drowned out the nightly Gotham noise. It let Bruce dial in on trying to spot the bonfire.
Gordon was right. The scene wasn’t hard to miss. A large fire, probably taller than him, on the top level of a parking garage. Bruce sped up the ramps to the top where the main action was. Unfortunately, it was all taken care of. Superman was walking around, surveying the scene to make sure that everyone was down for the count.
Bruce parked his motorcycle on the far edge of the level. He let his forehead drop to hit the headlight.
Superman whipped around. “Oh! I didn’t see you there!”
Bruce didn’t look up.
“I thought I’d come and make your job a little bit easier. It’s the least I can do, considering we’re both superheroes,” Superman rambled. “I just wanted to come meet you. Metropolis and Gotham-”
“Are separate cities that watch have their own heros,” Bruce stated. He brought his head up to look at Superman. “I can take care of Gotham.”
Superman paused. “Hey, there’s no need to get hostile here.”
Bruce got off the motorcycle and started to walk toward Superman. “What makes you think you have the authority to show up in Gotham?”
“Woah, I had no intention of making anyone here upset. This is just the only time I thought I could come meet you,” Superman explained. He raised his hands in surrender.
“Well, Vengeance works alone. I don’t need help,” Bruce huffed.
“Vengence? I thought you were called Batman,” Superman asked. He took a step forward to meet Batman. The other man took a long step back.
“The people of Gotham call me that. I never said I was fond of the name,” Bruce remarked.
Superman stuck out his hand. “Well, nice to meet you, Vengeance.”
Bruce shook his hand hesitantly.
“If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave,” Superman said with a smile. He shot up into the sky and flew in the direction of Metropolis.
Bruce let out a frustrated yell, then returned to his motorcycle. Bruce sped well over the speed limit his whole way home. The revving of the engine drowned out the thoughts he was having about Superman. The undoubted kindness that he showed to someone he didn’t even know. Bruce wracked his mind for other instances like this he’d read about. For the hero and the people. The other metahumans that Superman worked with. Mr. Terrific, Hawkgirl, Green Lantern, Metamorpho, everyone.
Bruce’s first mode of action when he got home was to pull up everything he could find about Superman. He went upstairs to wash his face and hair. After he was washed up, Bruce went back down to the cave to start his research.
Most of the articles were about Superman’s countless feats as a hero of the world. Pulling Metropolis together, helping Jarhanpur, things like that. Personal, face to face interviews were hard to find. Well, hard to find if they weren’t by Clark Kent. There was only one by Lois Lane about Superman’s reasoning to intercept Boravia. Most of the articles were written by Clark, actually. The same unconditionally nice man who brought Bruce home.
After about an hour, Bruce decided to switch gears. He pulled up the Website for the Daily Planet and some high-quality photos of Superman.
It didn’t take long for Bruce to find the Planet’s Employee-of-the-Month page. Most of the shots were of Lois, but there he was. Clark Kent, straight dead and center.
Bruce put the photos beside each other. Both were facing the camera dead on. The perfect photos for comparison. A little bit of staring on Bruce’s part and he had the answer he needed. For certain, Clark Kent was Superman.
The elevator dinged behind him. Alfred walked in slowly– Like he was approaching a stray cat. “You’re home early.”
“That’s because Superman did my job,” Bruce stated. He leaned on his desk, burying his face in his hands.
“Superman,” Alfred echoed. “Our man in blue here took down who needed to be taken down.”
“A group of hooligans who needed to be scared out of their minds. That’s who he took down,” Bruce grumbled. “Just so happens that he’s also the kid who brought me home that one time.”
Alfred reached out and squeezed Bruce’s shoulder. “You’ve been awake for longer than you should be. Let’s get you to bed.”
Bruce let out a deep, exasperated sigh. He followed Alfred willingly up to his bedroom. Alfred stood at the door while he situated himself.
“Can I trust you to stay in bed tonight? You have plans tomorrow,” Alfred inquired.
Bruce nodded. He pulled back the covers on his bed and turned on the TV. “I’m aware of my schedule.”
“Sometimes it feels like you aren’t,” Alfred stated. Once he saw that Bruce was in bed, he left.
It always took Bruce a while to get comfortable. The subtle chatter of the news helped, but not by much. Tonight though, Gotham’s prince was almost immediately out cold.