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mithenTitle: New Angles and Farewells
Relationship: Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Lex Luthor, Dick Grayson, Jean-Paul Valley
Continuity: Heroes of the Squared Circle, a DC/pro wrestling fusion.
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count 2200
Summary: In the aftermath of the Gotham Screwjob, everyone picks up the pieces and starts to make plans.
“‘History’ is mostly quartered to the realm of wrestler reminiscence, which would be factually problematic on its own, but couple that with the industry’s desire to mythologize everything and to keep up the facade of fakery that undergirds the sport and you end up with a lot of facts that contradict each other. --David Shoemaker, “The Squared Circle”
The championship belt gleamed on Jean-Paul Valley’s shoulder as he addressed the locker room. Very few wrestlers were meeting his eyes. Some were missing entirely: Tim Drake, for example, was nowhere to be found. Clark could feel the mood of the locker room as if it were a smoke in the air, a drifting cloud of pain and sullenness.
The new champion looked like he could see it too. He shifted his feet and cleared his throat.
“Let me start by saying I have nothing but respect for Dick Grayson. He was an excellent champion and he led this locker room well. I’m not the leader he was. I’m not even going to pretend I am.” He looked down at his feet. “Most of you won’t believe me--I don’t expect you to, and it doesn’t really matter--but I had no idea what was going to happen last night. Would I have participated if I had known?” He paused, and Clark saw his jaw work briefly. “I honestly don’t know. The risks were too high to allow the title to stay in Grayson’s hands. But the way it went down…” He shook his head, looking at the belt. “I understand that it will leave a bad taste in the mouth for most of you. I understand that many of you will hold it against me. I do ask you to remember--” He paused and for a moment there was pain in his eyes, “--that I’ve held this title twice now, and both times my worthiness to hold it has remained in question.”
He stopped and drew a long breath. No one in the room spoke. The mood did not seem to be noticeably softer.
Jean-Paul looked up again. “The last time I held this title I made some terrible mistakes. I cannot promise you that I won’t make mistakes this time either. But last time I tried to do it alone. I felt I had to I had to carry the responsibility for the whole company on my own. I know better now.” He looked around the room, meeting the eyes of people who were willing to look at him. “In front of the cameras, Azrael will keep trying to redeem himself. And here, backstage, I will keep doing the same,” he said.
Lex Luthor sat at his desk, Mercy Graves behind him. He was tapping on his phone, deliberately making Clark and Bruce, standing in front of his desk, wait. Like truant children waiting for a reprimand, Clark thought, and gritted his teeth on his anger. Next to him, Bruce was as still and composed as if he were carved of ice.
“So,” Luthor eventually said, putting his phone down, “are you quitting?”
“No,” said Bruce, clear and concise.
Luthor looked at Clark, his eyebrows raised. Clark shook his head, not trusting his voice.
Smirking, Lex held up a hand. Behind him, Mercy rolled her eyes, then reached into her bag and extracted a twenty-dollar bill. She put it in his hand, and he snapped it between his fingers once before slipping it into his own pocket. “See, Mercy?” Luthor said. “They won’t leave the biggest game in town. Not that it’s about the money for you at least, is it, Bruce?” he said with a calculating look that suddenly made Clark’s blood run cold.
“It’s never been about the money,” Bruce said.
“Right, right, it’s about the spectacle and the story, honor and brotherhood and all that,” Lex said, waving his hand.
Clark heard Bruce chuckle, very softly. “Be as dismissive as you like, Luthor, but I know underneath it all you understand. If it were just about money you wouldn’t have panicked at the idea of losing the title.”
For the first time, Luthor looked angry. “My decision was based sheerly on business sense, Wayne.”
“Tell us Jean-Paul didn’t know what was going to happen,” said Clark.
Luthor looked at him as if he’d forgotten Clark was in the room at all. “Why should I even bother? Would you believe me?”
“That doesn’t matter,” Clark said, locking eyes with him. “It doesn’t even matter if he did or not. You’re going to tell us he didn’t know, and you’re going to tell everyone he didn’t know. Because otherwise you’ve just created the weakest champion in the history of the DCW--and probably destroyed Jean-Paul’s career.”
“You’ll have to make a storyline of it, you know,” Bruce said. “For his sake and the sake of the company’s, he’s got to defy you and you’ve got to try to crush him.”
Luthor’s sharp green eyes narrowed. “Don’t presume to lecture me on storylines, Wayne. I’ll write whatever angles I please.” A smile ghosted at the corner of his mouth. “You love your stories so much. You have to admit that this thing with Grayson will make a great story, won’t it? You couldn’t have scripted it better if you’d tried.”
“It’s a great story,” Bruce said, his voice low and level, “But it’s a great story for you. Not for Dick.”
“Oh, stop your moaning,” scoffed Luthor. “He’s young and talented, he’ll do fine. And now that we’re all on the same page about young Dick Grayson and your continued presence in the company, get out of my office.” Clark shot Bruce a glance and they turned to leave. “Oh, by the way,” Luthor’s voice stopped them at the door. “Valley truly didn’t know what was going to happen. But if he did know, he would have gone through with it, because he knew I was right. He knew that with something as important as the championship, you have to err on the side of caution.”
Clark turned around to look at him then; Bruce stayed with his hand on the door, looking straight ahead. “Your error, Luthor, was that you didn’t trust Dick Grayson,” said Clark. “That you weren’t capable of it. And people will remember that.”
“How dare you,” Azrael seethed at Luthor, standing in the middle of the ring, his heavyweight title over one shoulder. The Metropolis audience had growled and muttered as he come out to the ring: the message boards and Reddit had been busy overnight, and rumors about the screwjob had spread like wildfire. Some were accurate. Most were not. “How dare you use me as a tool to rob Nightwing of his title?”
Luthor drew himself up to his full height. “I dared because it was the right thing to do,” he snarled. “If I had told you my plans, would you have agreed to them?”
“Never.”
Luthor shrugged. “You never were the brightest,” he said, “But you still did the job, so--”
His voice cut off in a hilariously dramatic squeak as Azrael put his hands around his throat. The crowd’s uncertainty melted into cheers of encouragement.
“Listen to me carefully, Luthor,” snarled Azrael. “I am not your lackey. This title is more than a piece of metal and leather to me. It stands for my very honor, and I am tired of having that honor sullied.”
He released Luthor, who staggered backwards in shock, falling against the ropes. Azrael lifted the championship high in the air and lifted his voice into a clarion call:
“I declare an open challenge for the heavyweight title!” The crowd burst into applause as he went on, “Each and every week, if someone feels they have what it takes to defeat me, I invite you to try. I will prove myself worthy.”
“You can’t do that!” yelled Luthor. “This is my show, and--”
“--this is my title, is it not?” Azrael’s gaze was impassive. “If I want to risk it I will, to prove that I deserve to hold this.”
Luthor scrambled out of the ring, rubbing his throat. “We’ll just see about that,” he snarled. “You’ve made an enemy of the wrong man.”
And then Blue Beetle’s music hit and the camera caught Azrael’s smile as he turned to face his first challenger.
“Good fight,” Jean-Paul said to Ted Kord in the back later, holding out his hand.
Ted Kord hesitated only a moment before taking it. “My first shot at the heavyweight title ever,” he said with a wry smile. “Even if it was only a ten-minute match, it was good to have it.”
“You looked good out there, Ted, buddy,” said Booster Gold. It was true, Clark thought. Azrael had made Ted look great--taking bumps with the same intensity he had once shown in pulling off moves that made himself look good. “I wish I could take you up on that challenge,” Booster Gold went on, a wistful note in his voice.
“Not until he’s gone up against every heel the evil Lex Luthor can throw at him, cackling all the while,” said Lex Luthor. “And then maybe the Dark Knight to boot.” He gave Jean-Paul a level look. “As long as you keep turning in performances like that one, the title is yours.”
“I liked that moment after Ted’s comeback when he almost pinned you,” Bruce said to Jean-Paul after Luthor left the room. “You looked convincingly desperate.”
“It wasn’t hard,” said Jean-Paul with a grim smile. “I just imagined what Grayson would think of me if I lost the title the very first time I put it on the line.”
“Does Luthor know?” Clark said later as they drove toward the apartment, the lights of Metropolis sparkling around them.
“About our plans to take him down? I doubt it. ‘Keep your enemies closer’ only goes so far.”
“No, not about that.”
“That you and I are a couple? Probably. I don’t think he cares.”
“No, not about that either.”
Bruce looked amused. “For babyfaces, we’ve sure got a lot of secrets, don’t we? Which one are you referring to?”
“Does he know that you’re the real Bruce Wayne?”
“Oh, that.” Bruce frowned thoughtfully at the road. “I’ve covered my tracks pretty well, but I’m sure he suspects. I don’t think he could prove anything, but I probably should batten down the hatches a bit. It’ll be a while until we can make any kind of overt move, and I wouldn’t want to make him suspicious.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Thank God none of the kids is likely to tell him.”
“Especially after this,” Clark said. He thought for a while. “We should come up with some angle we can really throw our energy into. Something that will make it look like we’re moving on with life.”
“Why Clark,” said Bruce. “How very devious of you.”
“You’ve already thought of that, haven’t you?”
Bruce’s smile was smug and delighted. “I’ve had a few ideas. I’m going to let them simmer a little longer and then I’ll run them by you.” The smile slipped away. “You...might not like some of them.”
“Do they involve us working together?”
Bruce made an insulted snorting noise.
“Then I won’t mind them.”
“Now boarding all rows for flight 306 to San Francisco,” intoned the voice over the speaker.
“I talked to Tim and Barbara,” said Dick. His duffle bag was slung over his shoulder. He hadn’t checked in any luggage. “I told them to show back up for work. Luthor will turn a blind eye to it for a little while, but I don’t want them to suffer because of me.”
“We’ll keep an eye on them,” said Bruce.
“I know you will.” Dick looked at both of them, biting his lip. “You’ll come by and see me when you’re in the area?” He laughed at Clark’s reproachful look, then sobered. “Look, I know I’ve made some mistakes, and I appreciate that you guys haven’t lectured me about them. I made some bad choices. But they were my choices to make, and I think this path is the right one for me. You guys staying here--I know I’ve made things harder for you, and I regret that more than I can say.” He shook his head. “I just didn’t think he’d go so far as to--” He broke off and sighed. “Whatever. Just don’t-- please don’t put your own jobs at risk because of me.” He looked at Bruce, who was giving a gate information sign intense scrutiny. “Bruce? Promise me you won’t try to get revenge or something.”
Bruce scoffed. “‘Revenge’? What kind of melodrama do you think this is?” When Dick continued to give him a level look he put his hands on Dick’s shoulders and said with mock-gravity: “Dick Grayson, I promise you that we will not try to get revenge against Lex Luthor.”
Dick gave him a dubious look, but hugged him tightly, then threw his arms around Clark. “Take care, you two.”
Bruce waited until Dick had disappeared down the boarding gate before he said, “We sure as hell are not going to try to get revenge on Luthor.”
“Damn straight,” said Clark.
Relationship: Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Lex Luthor, Dick Grayson, Jean-Paul Valley
Continuity: Heroes of the Squared Circle, a DC/pro wrestling fusion.
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count 2200
Summary: In the aftermath of the Gotham Screwjob, everyone picks up the pieces and starts to make plans.
“‘History’ is mostly quartered to the realm of wrestler reminiscence, which would be factually problematic on its own, but couple that with the industry’s desire to mythologize everything and to keep up the facade of fakery that undergirds the sport and you end up with a lot of facts that contradict each other. --David Shoemaker, “The Squared Circle”
The championship belt gleamed on Jean-Paul Valley’s shoulder as he addressed the locker room. Very few wrestlers were meeting his eyes. Some were missing entirely: Tim Drake, for example, was nowhere to be found. Clark could feel the mood of the locker room as if it were a smoke in the air, a drifting cloud of pain and sullenness.
The new champion looked like he could see it too. He shifted his feet and cleared his throat.
“Let me start by saying I have nothing but respect for Dick Grayson. He was an excellent champion and he led this locker room well. I’m not the leader he was. I’m not even going to pretend I am.” He looked down at his feet. “Most of you won’t believe me--I don’t expect you to, and it doesn’t really matter--but I had no idea what was going to happen last night. Would I have participated if I had known?” He paused, and Clark saw his jaw work briefly. “I honestly don’t know. The risks were too high to allow the title to stay in Grayson’s hands. But the way it went down…” He shook his head, looking at the belt. “I understand that it will leave a bad taste in the mouth for most of you. I understand that many of you will hold it against me. I do ask you to remember--” He paused and for a moment there was pain in his eyes, “--that I’ve held this title twice now, and both times my worthiness to hold it has remained in question.”
He stopped and drew a long breath. No one in the room spoke. The mood did not seem to be noticeably softer.
Jean-Paul looked up again. “The last time I held this title I made some terrible mistakes. I cannot promise you that I won’t make mistakes this time either. But last time I tried to do it alone. I felt I had to I had to carry the responsibility for the whole company on my own. I know better now.” He looked around the room, meeting the eyes of people who were willing to look at him. “In front of the cameras, Azrael will keep trying to redeem himself. And here, backstage, I will keep doing the same,” he said.
Lex Luthor sat at his desk, Mercy Graves behind him. He was tapping on his phone, deliberately making Clark and Bruce, standing in front of his desk, wait. Like truant children waiting for a reprimand, Clark thought, and gritted his teeth on his anger. Next to him, Bruce was as still and composed as if he were carved of ice.
“So,” Luthor eventually said, putting his phone down, “are you quitting?”
“No,” said Bruce, clear and concise.
Luthor looked at Clark, his eyebrows raised. Clark shook his head, not trusting his voice.
Smirking, Lex held up a hand. Behind him, Mercy rolled her eyes, then reached into her bag and extracted a twenty-dollar bill. She put it in his hand, and he snapped it between his fingers once before slipping it into his own pocket. “See, Mercy?” Luthor said. “They won’t leave the biggest game in town. Not that it’s about the money for you at least, is it, Bruce?” he said with a calculating look that suddenly made Clark’s blood run cold.
“It’s never been about the money,” Bruce said.
“Right, right, it’s about the spectacle and the story, honor and brotherhood and all that,” Lex said, waving his hand.
Clark heard Bruce chuckle, very softly. “Be as dismissive as you like, Luthor, but I know underneath it all you understand. If it were just about money you wouldn’t have panicked at the idea of losing the title.”
For the first time, Luthor looked angry. “My decision was based sheerly on business sense, Wayne.”
“Tell us Jean-Paul didn’t know what was going to happen,” said Clark.
Luthor looked at him as if he’d forgotten Clark was in the room at all. “Why should I even bother? Would you believe me?”
“That doesn’t matter,” Clark said, locking eyes with him. “It doesn’t even matter if he did or not. You’re going to tell us he didn’t know, and you’re going to tell everyone he didn’t know. Because otherwise you’ve just created the weakest champion in the history of the DCW--and probably destroyed Jean-Paul’s career.”
“You’ll have to make a storyline of it, you know,” Bruce said. “For his sake and the sake of the company’s, he’s got to defy you and you’ve got to try to crush him.”
Luthor’s sharp green eyes narrowed. “Don’t presume to lecture me on storylines, Wayne. I’ll write whatever angles I please.” A smile ghosted at the corner of his mouth. “You love your stories so much. You have to admit that this thing with Grayson will make a great story, won’t it? You couldn’t have scripted it better if you’d tried.”
“It’s a great story,” Bruce said, his voice low and level, “But it’s a great story for you. Not for Dick.”
“Oh, stop your moaning,” scoffed Luthor. “He’s young and talented, he’ll do fine. And now that we’re all on the same page about young Dick Grayson and your continued presence in the company, get out of my office.” Clark shot Bruce a glance and they turned to leave. “Oh, by the way,” Luthor’s voice stopped them at the door. “Valley truly didn’t know what was going to happen. But if he did know, he would have gone through with it, because he knew I was right. He knew that with something as important as the championship, you have to err on the side of caution.”
Clark turned around to look at him then; Bruce stayed with his hand on the door, looking straight ahead. “Your error, Luthor, was that you didn’t trust Dick Grayson,” said Clark. “That you weren’t capable of it. And people will remember that.”
“How dare you,” Azrael seethed at Luthor, standing in the middle of the ring, his heavyweight title over one shoulder. The Metropolis audience had growled and muttered as he come out to the ring: the message boards and Reddit had been busy overnight, and rumors about the screwjob had spread like wildfire. Some were accurate. Most were not. “How dare you use me as a tool to rob Nightwing of his title?”
Luthor drew himself up to his full height. “I dared because it was the right thing to do,” he snarled. “If I had told you my plans, would you have agreed to them?”
“Never.”
Luthor shrugged. “You never were the brightest,” he said, “But you still did the job, so--”
His voice cut off in a hilariously dramatic squeak as Azrael put his hands around his throat. The crowd’s uncertainty melted into cheers of encouragement.
“Listen to me carefully, Luthor,” snarled Azrael. “I am not your lackey. This title is more than a piece of metal and leather to me. It stands for my very honor, and I am tired of having that honor sullied.”
He released Luthor, who staggered backwards in shock, falling against the ropes. Azrael lifted the championship high in the air and lifted his voice into a clarion call:
“I declare an open challenge for the heavyweight title!” The crowd burst into applause as he went on, “Each and every week, if someone feels they have what it takes to defeat me, I invite you to try. I will prove myself worthy.”
“You can’t do that!” yelled Luthor. “This is my show, and--”
“--this is my title, is it not?” Azrael’s gaze was impassive. “If I want to risk it I will, to prove that I deserve to hold this.”
Luthor scrambled out of the ring, rubbing his throat. “We’ll just see about that,” he snarled. “You’ve made an enemy of the wrong man.”
And then Blue Beetle’s music hit and the camera caught Azrael’s smile as he turned to face his first challenger.
“Good fight,” Jean-Paul said to Ted Kord in the back later, holding out his hand.
Ted Kord hesitated only a moment before taking it. “My first shot at the heavyweight title ever,” he said with a wry smile. “Even if it was only a ten-minute match, it was good to have it.”
“You looked good out there, Ted, buddy,” said Booster Gold. It was true, Clark thought. Azrael had made Ted look great--taking bumps with the same intensity he had once shown in pulling off moves that made himself look good. “I wish I could take you up on that challenge,” Booster Gold went on, a wistful note in his voice.
“Not until he’s gone up against every heel the evil Lex Luthor can throw at him, cackling all the while,” said Lex Luthor. “And then maybe the Dark Knight to boot.” He gave Jean-Paul a level look. “As long as you keep turning in performances like that one, the title is yours.”
“I liked that moment after Ted’s comeback when he almost pinned you,” Bruce said to Jean-Paul after Luthor left the room. “You looked convincingly desperate.”
“It wasn’t hard,” said Jean-Paul with a grim smile. “I just imagined what Grayson would think of me if I lost the title the very first time I put it on the line.”
“Does Luthor know?” Clark said later as they drove toward the apartment, the lights of Metropolis sparkling around them.
“About our plans to take him down? I doubt it. ‘Keep your enemies closer’ only goes so far.”
“No, not about that.”
“That you and I are a couple? Probably. I don’t think he cares.”
“No, not about that either.”
Bruce looked amused. “For babyfaces, we’ve sure got a lot of secrets, don’t we? Which one are you referring to?”
“Does he know that you’re the real Bruce Wayne?”
“Oh, that.” Bruce frowned thoughtfully at the road. “I’ve covered my tracks pretty well, but I’m sure he suspects. I don’t think he could prove anything, but I probably should batten down the hatches a bit. It’ll be a while until we can make any kind of overt move, and I wouldn’t want to make him suspicious.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Thank God none of the kids is likely to tell him.”
“Especially after this,” Clark said. He thought for a while. “We should come up with some angle we can really throw our energy into. Something that will make it look like we’re moving on with life.”
“Why Clark,” said Bruce. “How very devious of you.”
“You’ve already thought of that, haven’t you?”
Bruce’s smile was smug and delighted. “I’ve had a few ideas. I’m going to let them simmer a little longer and then I’ll run them by you.” The smile slipped away. “You...might not like some of them.”
“Do they involve us working together?”
Bruce made an insulted snorting noise.
“Then I won’t mind them.”
“Now boarding all rows for flight 306 to San Francisco,” intoned the voice over the speaker.
“I talked to Tim and Barbara,” said Dick. His duffle bag was slung over his shoulder. He hadn’t checked in any luggage. “I told them to show back up for work. Luthor will turn a blind eye to it for a little while, but I don’t want them to suffer because of me.”
“We’ll keep an eye on them,” said Bruce.
“I know you will.” Dick looked at both of them, biting his lip. “You’ll come by and see me when you’re in the area?” He laughed at Clark’s reproachful look, then sobered. “Look, I know I’ve made some mistakes, and I appreciate that you guys haven’t lectured me about them. I made some bad choices. But they were my choices to make, and I think this path is the right one for me. You guys staying here--I know I’ve made things harder for you, and I regret that more than I can say.” He shook his head. “I just didn’t think he’d go so far as to--” He broke off and sighed. “Whatever. Just don’t-- please don’t put your own jobs at risk because of me.” He looked at Bruce, who was giving a gate information sign intense scrutiny. “Bruce? Promise me you won’t try to get revenge or something.”
Bruce scoffed. “‘Revenge’? What kind of melodrama do you think this is?” When Dick continued to give him a level look he put his hands on Dick’s shoulders and said with mock-gravity: “Dick Grayson, I promise you that we will not try to get revenge against Lex Luthor.”
Dick gave him a dubious look, but hugged him tightly, then threw his arms around Clark. “Take care, you two.”
Bruce waited until Dick had disappeared down the boarding gate before he said, “We sure as hell are not going to try to get revenge on Luthor.”
“Damn straight,” said Clark.