Heroes of the Squared Circle 12: Invasion

[mithen]

Title: Invasion
Relationship: Clark/Bruce
Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Guy Gardner, Lex Luthor, Booster Gold, Ted Kord, Harvey Dent, Selina Kyle
Continuity: Heroes of the Squared Circle, a DC/pro wrestling fusion (click for notes and all chapters).
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count 2300
Summary: Lex Luthor explains what the employees of his newest acquisition can expect, and the JLI wrestlers wait to see who will get contracts for the DCW.


It is unfortunate that he died before I could kill him. I would have enjoyed that. --promoter Vince McMahon, about his abusive stepfather

"What the hell is up here, Luthor?" Guy had surged forward at the sight of Lex Luthor behind Max's desk, and now he shook an angry fist at him. "Where's Max, you snake?"

"Tsk tsk, Mr. Gardner," said Luthor. "Is that any way to talk to the savior of your promotion?"

"Savior?"

"Indeed. I have agreed, out of the kindness of my heart, to help Mr. Lord with certain debts that he has incurred, in return for the JLI becoming, shall we say, a partner--well, junior partner, that is--with the DCW."

"In other words, you're gobbling up the JLI like a shark swallows a minnow."

Luthor's smile widened. "Oh, I'd say the JLI rates at least a blowfish."

"Well, I hope it's a blowfish that's--that's poorly prepared and poisons you and you choke on it!" Guy blustered.

"Save the tortured metaphors for your promos, Mr. Gardner," said Luthor.

"I'm not doing any promos for you, you cheating louse," said Guy.

Luthor stood up, his smile gone. "Let us make sure we understand each other," he said. "Max Lord ran up debts he could not repay. Although I am hardly weeping with sorrow over his poor business choices, they were his choices and his responsibility. Please also keep in mind that despite his financial woes, he could have chosen to cut back, to be content with a smaller scope. Instead he chose to sell his promotion to me, to take the money and run. I don't cheat." He paused, and the smile came back. "Unless I have to."

"So how is this going to work?" Bruce was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and his eyes opaque.

"Mr. Lord may not have mentioned this, but you have three shows left. Not because of my purchase, but because there are no more shows booked after that. So you have those three shows and enough time to wrap up storylines. Your contracts with Mr. Lord are good until then. After that--" Luthor shrugged. "I'm offering full-time contracts to a few of you, and developmental contracts to most of the others, a chance to work for me for a little while on a provisional basis. And then we're going to run an invasion storyline."

"How so?" Bruce's voice was neutral, but Clark felt his attention focus in on Luthor like a laser sharpening.

Luthor sat down and leaned across the table. "I've explained this to the others already, but here are the basics: we're going to break the fourth wall a bit, mess with the fans' heads. In the penultimate show, we'll have a bunch of masked figures break in, do run-ins, interfere with matches. Dirty tricks and the like. Then in the final show, they reveal that they're actually DCW wrestlers. I'll send in some of my top heels: Sinestro, Scarecrow, Cheetah, maybe Metallo. Huge reveal, should get the message boards buzzing like crazy. They announce they're taking over and closing the JLI. Then after that, the former JLI members start pulling their own invasion, fighting back in the DCW. Make it look like it's actual revenge, like you're honestly breaking in and beating people up."

"That's..." Bruce paused. "That's actually pretty brilliant," he said.

"I know," said Luthor.

"But there's a narrative problem."

Luthor frowned. "Explain."

"It's not satisfying enough for the JLI fans. Look," Bruce said, leaning forward. "JLI fans are a special bunch. The DCW has a lot of marks as fans, people who still believe it's all real, pretty much. But JLI fans are mostly smarks, they know it's fake and they don't care, they love it anyway. They're loyal, they're smart, they buy a lot of merchandise and you don't want to lose them. So they need some extra closure, a sense they're being respected on their own terms, a reason to switch to your product."

Luthor leaned back, his eyes narrowed. "I'm listening. Pitch me your idea."

"The invading heels all have to be former JLI wrestlers: Darkseid, Desaad, Deadshot, Rocket Red, and so on. You've got quite a few of them to choose from," Bruce added wryly. "They have to attack the people they used to have feuds with. That'll drive the smarks crazy, because they know that extra bit of history. Then you show up at the end of the show and announce you've bought us out, it's all over."

Luthor steepled his fingers together and drummed them against each other. He was almost smiling. "The JLI defies me, insists on putting on one last show despite my evil machinations."

Bruce pointed at him in triumph. "Exactly. Then the last show we make a sort of greatest-hits for the fans. All the biggest feuds over the last few years get resurrected. We end with a huge scrum in the middle of the ring between the JLI and the DCW, clear the benches, and in the end one man stands alone, battered but triumphant, a symbol of the indomitable will of the JLI even in defeat."

"You, I suppose," said Luthor.

Bruce looked puzzled. "No, Guy, of course."

"What?" said Luthor and Guy together.

Bruce made an exasperated noise. "It's obvious," he snapped. "The Warrior is the perfect symbol of the JLI. All the smarks know how you robbed him of his Green Lantern identity--" Guy made a growling noise and Bruce went on hurriedly, "--they know he's never going to work for you, so he's the best symbol for the end of the JLI."

"He'll never let me do that," said Guy contemptuously.

But Luthor touched his steepled fingers to his mouth and nodded slowly. "Wayne is right. It's too good to pass up." He pointed at Guy. "However, I have one stipulation--"

"--Yeah, yeah, I gotta drop the belt the night before," said Guy. "I expected that. I'll give it up to anyone you choose, as long it's a JLI guy and not one of your DCW stooges--I ain't no weasel like Batson, I'd never steal a belt and take it to another promotion."

Luthor lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug, and Clark heard Guy's teeth grating. "That works for me," Luthor said easily.

Bruce turned to Guy and Clark. "Guys," he said, "I need a little time with Luthor alone, if you don't mind."

"Whatever, man," said Guy. "I need to go sanitize my hands or something anyway."

He barged out, leaving Bruce and Luthor looking at each other and Clark looking at them. "I'll...see you soon, then," said Clark.

Bruce hadn't taken his eyes off Luthor. "I'll be out in just a minute," he said.

Clark nodded and the door swung shut behind him. The hallway beyond was empty, and he took a few steps and then stopped, hesitating.

From behind the door he heard Bruce's voice: "So. Who of the JLI are you going to sign?"

Luthor's voice sounded amused. "You, if you'll deign to work with me. Of the rest, I'll offer full contracts to Scott and Barda Free, of course. Harvey Dent. Selina Kyle. Don't even bother to suggest I ask Gardner, I have my pride."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Most of the rest will be offered developmental contracts. If they accept they'll be sent to regional territories to see how they work out. Maybe they'll prove themselves, maybe not." There was a brief silence. "So. Will you deign to work with me, Wayne?"

"I might, but we need to discuss a few stipulations," Bruce said.

"Yes, you've made that quite clear. Now, to start with--"

Clark started guiltily as Bea and Tora came around the corner; he started walking again, Luthor's voice fading behind him, plastering a smile on his face as he drew near to them. "Did you see where Guy went?"

Tora drooped. "He went toward the common room. He's...not in a good mood."

"I don't think any of us are," Clark sighed.

: : :

In the common room, Booster and Beetle were looking over their contracts. "He's packing us off to Detroit? The Detroit territory is for losers," grumbled Booster.

"A developmental contract is better than no contract at all," said Beetle philosophically.

"I can't believe I'm going to be the JLI's last champion," Harvey Dent was saying to Guy. "Are you sure you're willing to drop the belt to me?"

Guy clapped him on the back. "The Warrior and Two-Face have had a good feud, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather hand it over to."

Clark sat in the corner, watching people gossip and complain. Bruce was next to him, sitting backwards on a chair with his arms draped over the back, lost in thought. Clark knew better than to bother him while he was brooding, so he didn't ask whether he'd signed with Luthor or not. Bruce would tell him when he felt like telling him, and not a moment sooner.

For now, it felt oddly good to sit in silence together in the middle of chaos.

Selina was standing behind the ratty sofa with one hand on its back, lifting one leg in the air above her head with the practiced ease of a gymnast. "Have you got your contract yet, Kent?"

Clark shook his head. "How about you?"

"Yep. I'm signing full-time," Selina said. "Lex knows how to treat his wrestlers right--at least those who get over--and I'd be a fool to pass up an opportunity like this." She grabbed her foot and touched it to her head. "What we need is to pool our money, start our own promotion," she said idly. "Wrestler-owned, wrestler-run."

"It's not so simple," Bruce said abruptly. "It takes more than money, it takes contacts, infrastructure. Good relationships with the whole network of people who make it possible: local promoters, merchandisers, the media. Even local governments--laws about violence, sports, and entertainment can get really difficult to work around. Lionel Luthor started a dynasty for his son, it's hard to compete with that. Plus you need an eye for talent and how to promote it, an ability to see the big picture and the details at the same time." He dropped his chin onto his hands, frowning into space. "Most importantly, you need charisma or trustworthiness--ideally both--so people will be willing to work with you."

Selina laughed shortly. "I was just daydreaming out loud," she said. "I'm pretty sure if we put all our funds together we'd end up in debt. It's a nice dream, but not a reality."

"Not yet," muttered Bruce, and lapsed back into brooding.

A woman with her blond hair pulled back into a severe bun, wearing a black business suit, entered the room; conversations didn't stop, but everyone's attention shifted subtly to her as she walked up to Clark and Bruce and handed each of them an envelope. "Here you go," she said, and walked away.

"Mercy Graves," said Selina when Clark cast her a questioning look. "Luthor's chauffeur, secretary, you name it. That would be your contracts, then."

Clark started to open it, reminding himself that he was damn lucky to be offered anything at all. And there could be good sides to being sent off to a developmental territory. If he remembered right, there was a DCW promotion in Kansas City--he could see Ma and Pa more often. Detroit was a tougher sell, but still--

He unfolded the paper and scanned through it once, then twice.

"I don't understand," he said out loud. Selina looked over at him; Bruce continued to stare off into space, his mind elsewhere, his envelope unopened. "This is--this is a full-time contract."

Selina beamed at him in honest delight. "Clark, how wonderful! Luthor knows talent when he sees it. He must have spotted that video of you on Youtube."

"I...suppose?" Clark frowned at the contract. "I think there must be some kind of mistake," he mumbled, then realized there was no way to explain why he thought that without admitting he'd been eavesdropping on the boss. "Maybe this was just a clerical error--"

The contract was plucked from his hands; Bruce cast a narrow-eyed gaze over it. "Luthor doesn't make clerical errors," he said. "Congratulations, Clark--you're in the big leagues now."

"I don't--this is--" Clark's eye fell on the salary numbers and his voice dried up. This would pay off the mortgage on the farm faster than he had ever dreamed. It was impossible. "I can't believe it," he whispered.

Selina threw her arms around him in a spontaneous hug that seemed to surprise her almost as much as him. "You deserve it, Clark," she said. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You're one of our most talented wrestlers, one of our hardest workers. This is going to be your chance to really fly, I know it."

Clark folded up the contract, his hands shaking slightly. There was only one question left now. He looked over at Bruce. "So...what are you going to do?" He waited for the answer, trying to look like it didn't make a huge difference, knowing it did. It would be crazy to throw away this opportunity, but the idea of not working with Bruce was shockingly painful to contemplate.

At last, Bruce opened up his own envelope and cast his eye over the piece of paper inside, refolding it after the most cursory of glances. Then he smiled, more to himself than at Clark.

"It took some persuading, but it seems Luthor has met all of my stipulations," he said.