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mithenTitle: Royal Rumble
Relationship: Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Joker, Wonder Woman, Amazo, Brainiac
Continuity: Heroes of the Squared Circle, a DC/pro wrestling fusion (click for notes and all chapters).
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count 3300
Summary: At the Royal Rumble, the Dark Knight finally faces down the Kryptonian, and the wrestling world will never be the same.
“In ancient Rome and Alexandria, homosexual lovers were considered the ideal warriors, since it was believed they were motivated by the noblest of sentiments—the love and admiration of another man. Usually, though, the love of males at the sentimental heart of wrestling escaped awareness. When Hunter Hearst Helmsley told his “buddy” Shawn Michaels, “You are weak, you are vulnerable; that’s why I wanted you by my side—so I could have protected you,” nobody seemed to think anything of it. Was that because the violence masked the affection?” --Thomas Hackett
Dick Grayson, Heavyweight Champion of the World, looked up from his phone with a grimace. “Did you see these rumors that Jean-Paul might be making a surprise appearance at the Rumble?”
Clark shrugged as he sat down with his morning cinnamon roll and cocoa. “There are always a few slots open for some surprises.”
“Well, I don’t want one of them to be Jean-Paul, that’s all,” said Dick.
“Valley’s still on walkabout, last I heard,” said Bruce, joining them with a cup of coffee. “Trying to find himself. Unlikely he’ll show up. Should be some other surprises, though.” He just sipped his coffee and looked mysterious when Clark and Dick pestered him to tell them who. “Lex will let us know before the match begins, I’m sure.”
“Well, that’s good at least,” grumbled Clark. “I’m just glad I get to come out last and not have to deal with it.”
“What’s your problem with Royal Rumbles, anyway?” Dick asked. “I kind of wish I could be in it. Not that I mind taking a week off for a victory lap,” he added quickly, patting the belt on the seat next to him. The gleaming strap of leather and metal was never far from him; like all champions it became his property and his responsibility, and it was a responsibility no wrestler took lightly.
“They’re chaotic,” said Clark. “I don’t like working with too many people in the ring, there’s too many variables. Give me a good clean match between two people who know and trust each other.”
“But they’re fun,” said Dick. “There’s so many opportunities for on-the-fly storytelling and funny little spots. And then there’s the anticipation of seeing which wrestler is next, listening to the crowd react when they come running out...”
“Speaking of anticipation,” said Bruce, “Your parents will really be coming to Metropolis for the next show?”
Clark snorted. “Ma says she wouldn’t miss the chance to see me finally get to play a hero for the world. She also says if she has to wait any longer before meeting you, she’ll come to the apartment and put me in a cobra clutch.” He couldn’t help grinning at the expression on Dick’s face. “She prides herself on having learned all the lingo of the business.”
“I’d better be on my best behavior, then,” Bruce mused, smiling at Clark over his coffee cup.
Milton Fine actually rubbed his hands together as he addressed the wrestlers before him: Sinestro, Amazo, Agamemno, Mirror Master, Solomon Grundy, and Joker. “Gentlemen, it’s high time those of us with sense and intelligence banded together to work in our own best interests.” He ignored the Joker’s cackle of laughter and continued, “I propose a loose alliance for the Royal Rumble, a truce between us as long as any other wrestler is in the ring. It is an injustice that they should win by mere numbers!”
Solomon Grundy cracked his knuckles. “I guess,” he said shortly. “We’ll see.”
“So this is some kind of...Injustice League?” said Agamemno. “To make sure we keep the scales tipped on our side? I could go for that.”
“I can give you all access to untold resources,” said Brainiac. “I just need one favor from you.”
He paused dramatically to let the camera zoom up close on his face.
“The Dark Knight must be eliminated before the Kryptonian enters the Rumble.”
Mirror Master shrugged. “Tossing out the Dark Knight seems like good strategy in general, to be honest. You didn’t have to do all this clandestine work to convince me of it.”
“Well, I know I’m in!” chortled the Joker, throwing his arms up in the air and dancing an impromptu jig. “You can count on me!”
“Ladies and gentlemen of Columbus, welcome to this year’s Royal Rumble!” Glorious Godfrey’s voice echoed around the auditorium. “The rules are simple: wrestlers enter the ring one at a time every ninety seconds, according to the order pre-determined by lottery. A wrestler is eliminated from competition if he goes over the top rope and both feet hit the ground. The winner is the last wrestler remaining and wins the right to have a championship bout with the new heavyweight champion!”
The camera cut to the ring, where the Dark Knight was already standing alone. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, a slight smile on his face. He didn’t look like a man at a great disadvantage. On the huge screen, a clock was counting down from ninety. The crowd knew some of the numbers--the ones the wrestlers had deigned to reveal for plot-related reasons--but in most cases, the identity of the next wrestler was a mystery. Thus the crowd noise sharpened and focused as the numbers got to single digits; a smattering of voices counted down the last numbers until--
A buzzer went off and familiar eerie laughter filled the auditorium as the Joker strode down the ramp and slid into the ring like a venomous snake.
The Dark Knight was ready for him, leaping forward to attack the moment he was in the ring. The two were evenly matched as usual, battling around the squared circle giving and taking blows until the clock hit zero again and--
This time the crowd lifted to its feet in delight and surprise as Wonder Woman’s music hit.
The Amazon rushed down the ring, ignoring the cheers of the crowd, a fierce grin on her face, vaulting into the ring and onto the startled Joker. Within moments she and the Dark Knight were back to back and the Joker was cowering in a corner. The Dark Knight swung around and held out his hand; Diana shook it without hesitation and they fell to work trying to get the Joker out of the ring.
This proved harder than expected as he capered and gyrated around them, buying himself time until the final seconds ticked off and Solomon Grundy lumbered out from the back to a chorus of yells. Grundy ignored Joker entirely in favor of attacking the two babyfaces, and the tide turned once again.
There was a spot where Wonder Woman managed to lift Grundy up and over the ropes by herself--the crowd gasped in disbelief--and he tumbled over the ropes, becoming the first wrestler to be eliminated. But just as she did, the clock ticked down again--this time the people counting down along with it were louder--and Sinestro swaggered down the ramp and into the ring.
From then on there was a time of chaotic activity as various heels and faces came in and were thrown out. Tim Drake ran in to a chorus of support for the DCW’s favorite underdog, and for a few minutes it looked like he was going to do well as he used the chaos against the other contestants, dodging the stronger ones and causing people to careen into unintended targets. Joker grabbed him and tossed him over the ropes--but he grabbed the top rope and his feet dangled free, not touching the floor. Waiting until the Joker had turned away, assuming he was eliminated, Tim flipped himself back up over the rope and was back in the match--for a few minutes, at least, until he was eliminated unequivocally by Black Manta to a chorus of disappointed boos.
As the match went on, it became increasingly clear that Brainiac’s Injustice League was holding up their end of the bargain: given the chance, they targeted the Dark Knight over anyone else, and they didn’t attack each other at all. The crowd booed lustily as the members of the nascent stable worked over the babyfaces, concentrating on the Dark Knight.
There was a brief moment in the battle, one that people commented on later as foreshadowing, when the Dark Knight, Green Lantern, Aquaman, Flash, and Wonder Woman all stood back to back in the middle of the ring, surrounded by enemies, forced to band together. Each of them were skilled wrestlers, but somehow their communication skills were off, their moves didn’t come together--it was like they were missing some essential piece. One by one they got picked off by the Injustice League, until the Dark Knight was the only one of the top-ranked babyfaces left.
The clock ticked inexorably down to number twenty-three, the crowd by now bellowing out the last second with gusto, and--
A cheesy 90s synth beat played, one that had never been heard in a DCW arena. Some of the audience seemed confused, but a decent number started to scream and cheer with abandon as Booster Gold, formerly of the JLI, came strutting down the ramp.
Backstage, waiting for his turn in the Gorilla position, Clark couldn’t help but smile at the audience’s reaction. “What the hell,” said Ted Kord, waiting for his cue, “I didn’t think he’d get bit of a pop. They’re happy to see us? They remember us?”
“Of course they do,” said Clark. “You think everyone’s forgotten the JLI? All the good times? The laughs?”
“The lack of cash?” quipped Ted dryly, but he was smiling as he watched Booster Gold enter the ring to the cheers of the crowd. “Atta boy, Mikey,” he said softly. Then he looked at the clock, nearly back down to zero. “Well, time to see if anyone out there remembers a tubby nerd from the old days.”
Clark didn’t say anything to that, but waited with a slight smile until the sound of Beetle’s music and the swelling roar of the crowd proved his suspicions right. “Comedy faces,” he said to Billy Batson, still waiting for his number. “An under-appreciated genre.”
“If you say so,” said Billy, fussing with his gold-embroidered cape, but Clark noticed he was smiling.
At twenty-six, Amazo came out to a chorus of boos, making his slow, mechanical way to the ring. By this point the Dark Knight was the only babyface left in the ring, Booster and Beetle having gotten simultaneously tossed out by Deathstroke, and he was surrounded by the Injustice League, barely holding his own. As Amazo came into the ring, the Dark Knight put in a flurry of offense, lashing out at all of the heels. He managed to toss Black Manta over the ropes, then delivered a kick to the Joker’s knees that sent the Clown Prince of Crime out of the ring.
However, distracted by Amazo’s attack, the Dark Knight did not notice that the Joker had gone out between the ropes rather than over the top rope. The announcers were sure to mention it as the Joker--at first dazed, then grinning gleefully as he realized what had happened--got as close as possible to the ring and waited to make his move.
With a desperate urgency, the Dark Knight managed to clear the ring of everyone but Amazo, and the two put on an impressive set of spots and moves for the rapt crowd. Amazo managed to use signature moves of five different wrestlers, delivering all of them with ease. When Red Tornado ran in at number twenty-seven, Amazo knocked him out effortlessly with his own finisher, then tossed him over the ropes with contempt before turning back to the Dark Knight. Captain Cold and Mister Miracle, at twenty-eight and twenty-nine, met similar quick endings.
By now the audience was on its feet. They knew that the Kryptonian was the last contestant, and they knew that Brainiac wanted the Dark Knight gone by any means necessary before he reached the ring. Thousands of voices screamed their support as the Dark Knight hung on tenaciously against the inexorable tide of Amazo’s attack, absorbing a flurry of blows to his ribs and face before finally managing to hoist the “android” over the top ring.
There were twenty seconds left. The Dark Knight stood alone in the ring, a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, one arm wrapped protectively around his ribs. He staggered, swayed on his feet, and looked to the top of the ramp as the clock ticked down and the audience counted down with it.
“Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two…one!”
At the sound of the buzzer, the ominous dark music of the Kryptonian started, and he appeared at the top of the ramp with Brainiac at his side. The camera zoomed in on the Dark Knight’s face, his teeth gritted on his own blood, waiting.
The Kryptonian came down to the ring with Brainiac jabbering urgently at him, climbed the steps with no expression on his face, and entered the ring. His scarlet eyes gazed straight ahead, at and through his opponent.
He advanced on the Dark Knight--then paused.
“Kal,” said the Dark Knight, and his voice cracked and broke into a suddenly-almost-silent arena, straining to catch what was said between the two men. “I won’t fight you, Kal. But you have to fight him.” He pointed at Brainiac, who shrieked in fury and pulled out the long red crystal rod, waving it frantically. The Kryptonian shook his head--then winced in pain and continued to move toward the Dark Knight, his hands outstretched.
The Dark Knight threw himself backwards, slingshotted himself off the ropes--and then ducked under the Kryptonian’s clothesline and threw himself over the top rope.
The crowd moaned in despair as he careened out of the ring, but their groans turned to gasps of amazement as the Dark Knight grabbed the crystal rod out of Brainiac’s hands and landed hard on the announcer’s table.
From his vantage point in the ring, Clark--keeping his face blank and his hands out--could hear the announcers shrieking that the Dark Knight’s feet hadn’t touched the ground, and therefore he wasn’t eliminated yet. The Kryptonian came to the edge of the ring, gazing down at the Dark Knight--and the Dark Knight raised the red crystal rod above his head and snapped it in two.
The Kryptonian collapsed to his knees, clutching at his head in obvious agony. As Brainiac howled, the Dark Knight then grabbed a rolling chair from the announcer’s table, shoved it forward, and rode it back to the ring, leaping from it and back over the ropes without ever touching the ground and being eliminated. “That isn’t fair!” Glorious Godfrey was hyperventilating, while Grodd was patiently explaining that it didn’t technically violate the rules, so…
“Kal,” said the Dark Knight, putting his hands on the Kryptonian’s shoulders. He sank to his knees in front of him and took his head in his hands, tilting his face upward. ”Kal.”
The Kryptonian looked up--and the crowd gasped again, for his eyes were no longer crimson but bright blue. He was dazed and in pain, tears glittering on his lashes and at the corners of his eyes, and he shook his head in confusion. Swaying to his feet, he gazed around the ring, staring up at the crowds as if he had never seen them before. He looked back at the Dark Knight and for a long moment their eyes locked.
Then, rubbing his forehead, the man who had been called the Kryptonian turned and left the ring, stepping over the top ropes and to the floor, eliminating himself from the Royal Rumble.
As he staggered up the ramp, Clark could hear the audience surging in excited confusion. The Dark Knight was the last man left in the ring, does that mean he--won? He slowed down his steps, waiting for his cue.
He happened to be looking at a child’s face when it happened, saw the confused delight switch to horror, and knew that the Joker had finished biding his time, had scrambled into the ring and was kicking the wounded Dark Knight with all his strength.
At the top of the ramp, the Kryptonian turned around as the Joker managed to heave the battered, exhausted Dark Knight over the top rope. The Dark Knight clung to the rope for a moment, struggling, but the Joker kicked him hard in the damaged ribs and he let go, crashing to the ground. The bell rang. The Joker had won the Royal Rumble.
The referee came up to try and lift the Joker’s hand, but he shoved him aside and leaped out of the ring to continue beating up the Dark Knight, who was clearly struggling to hang on to consciousness.
The Kryptonian looked down at the ring, his blue eyes puzzled. “Help him!” yelled a child’s voice from the audience. “You have to help him!” The Kryptonian frowned, his head tilted to the side as he watched the Joker attempt to destroy his helpless victim. Then his eyes cleared.
This time, when he ran down to the ring, his movements weren’t robotic; they were full of energy, purpose, passion.
He grabbed the startled Joker and threw him into a barricade in a whirlwind of limbs. The Joker lashed out, but it was useless; his foe was unstoppable, charged with righteous anger. Kal-El hurled him into the Spanish announcer’s table, where Brainiac was still standing, fuming impotently, and sent both of them crashing over the table and into the barricade beyond.
Then he turned and made his way back to where the Dark Knight was lying, half-conscious and bleeding from the mouth.
Kneeling, he wiped the blood from the corner of his former-enemy’s mouth, almost tenderly. The Dark Knight managed to get himself upright, staring at Kal-El. Kal-El smiled at him, a small and clumsy smile, as if he had almost forgotten how.
Then Kal-El helped the Dark Knight to his feet and they made their way out of the arena to the cheers of the crowd. They hadn’t won the Royal Rumble, but they had won something much more important.
All Clark could think as they stopped at the top of the ring to look back at their fallen enemies (and give the crowd a last delirious moment to cheer them) was that the Kryptonian gimmick was dead--at last, at last, at last.
“You have no idea how hard it was not to kiss the tears on your lashes away, you ridiculous man,” Bruce said later, as they curled up around each other in their hotel room. “You never told me you could cry on cue.”
“Well,” said Clark, “It did help that I’d been poking at my eyes to get those damn contacts out.” He’d dropped them on the mat and “accidentally” crushed them, too, enjoying the tiny crunch beneath his knee. “How about you?” he went on, touching the corner of Bruce’s mouth. “You told Amazo to hit you stiff, didn’t you? You just had to have that touch of scarlet.”
Bruce kissed his finger lightly. “That’s me, always looking for the good visual.”
“Hard to beat the two of us at the top of the ramp with our arms around each other,” Clark said.
“We are hard to beat, aren’t we?” Bruce sounded smug. “In every way.”
Relationship: Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Joker, Wonder Woman, Amazo, Brainiac
Continuity: Heroes of the Squared Circle, a DC/pro wrestling fusion (click for notes and all chapters).
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count 3300
Summary: At the Royal Rumble, the Dark Knight finally faces down the Kryptonian, and the wrestling world will never be the same.
“In ancient Rome and Alexandria, homosexual lovers were considered the ideal warriors, since it was believed they were motivated by the noblest of sentiments—the love and admiration of another man. Usually, though, the love of males at the sentimental heart of wrestling escaped awareness. When Hunter Hearst Helmsley told his “buddy” Shawn Michaels, “You are weak, you are vulnerable; that’s why I wanted you by my side—so I could have protected you,” nobody seemed to think anything of it. Was that because the violence masked the affection?” --Thomas Hackett
Dick Grayson, Heavyweight Champion of the World, looked up from his phone with a grimace. “Did you see these rumors that Jean-Paul might be making a surprise appearance at the Rumble?”
Clark shrugged as he sat down with his morning cinnamon roll and cocoa. “There are always a few slots open for some surprises.”
“Well, I don’t want one of them to be Jean-Paul, that’s all,” said Dick.
“Valley’s still on walkabout, last I heard,” said Bruce, joining them with a cup of coffee. “Trying to find himself. Unlikely he’ll show up. Should be some other surprises, though.” He just sipped his coffee and looked mysterious when Clark and Dick pestered him to tell them who. “Lex will let us know before the match begins, I’m sure.”
“Well, that’s good at least,” grumbled Clark. “I’m just glad I get to come out last and not have to deal with it.”
“What’s your problem with Royal Rumbles, anyway?” Dick asked. “I kind of wish I could be in it. Not that I mind taking a week off for a victory lap,” he added quickly, patting the belt on the seat next to him. The gleaming strap of leather and metal was never far from him; like all champions it became his property and his responsibility, and it was a responsibility no wrestler took lightly.
“They’re chaotic,” said Clark. “I don’t like working with too many people in the ring, there’s too many variables. Give me a good clean match between two people who know and trust each other.”
“But they’re fun,” said Dick. “There’s so many opportunities for on-the-fly storytelling and funny little spots. And then there’s the anticipation of seeing which wrestler is next, listening to the crowd react when they come running out...”
“Speaking of anticipation,” said Bruce, “Your parents will really be coming to Metropolis for the next show?”
Clark snorted. “Ma says she wouldn’t miss the chance to see me finally get to play a hero for the world. She also says if she has to wait any longer before meeting you, she’ll come to the apartment and put me in a cobra clutch.” He couldn’t help grinning at the expression on Dick’s face. “She prides herself on having learned all the lingo of the business.”
“I’d better be on my best behavior, then,” Bruce mused, smiling at Clark over his coffee cup.
Milton Fine actually rubbed his hands together as he addressed the wrestlers before him: Sinestro, Amazo, Agamemno, Mirror Master, Solomon Grundy, and Joker. “Gentlemen, it’s high time those of us with sense and intelligence banded together to work in our own best interests.” He ignored the Joker’s cackle of laughter and continued, “I propose a loose alliance for the Royal Rumble, a truce between us as long as any other wrestler is in the ring. It is an injustice that they should win by mere numbers!”
Solomon Grundy cracked his knuckles. “I guess,” he said shortly. “We’ll see.”
“So this is some kind of...Injustice League?” said Agamemno. “To make sure we keep the scales tipped on our side? I could go for that.”
“I can give you all access to untold resources,” said Brainiac. “I just need one favor from you.”
He paused dramatically to let the camera zoom up close on his face.
“The Dark Knight must be eliminated before the Kryptonian enters the Rumble.”
Mirror Master shrugged. “Tossing out the Dark Knight seems like good strategy in general, to be honest. You didn’t have to do all this clandestine work to convince me of it.”
“Well, I know I’m in!” chortled the Joker, throwing his arms up in the air and dancing an impromptu jig. “You can count on me!”
“Ladies and gentlemen of Columbus, welcome to this year’s Royal Rumble!” Glorious Godfrey’s voice echoed around the auditorium. “The rules are simple: wrestlers enter the ring one at a time every ninety seconds, according to the order pre-determined by lottery. A wrestler is eliminated from competition if he goes over the top rope and both feet hit the ground. The winner is the last wrestler remaining and wins the right to have a championship bout with the new heavyweight champion!”
The camera cut to the ring, where the Dark Knight was already standing alone. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, a slight smile on his face. He didn’t look like a man at a great disadvantage. On the huge screen, a clock was counting down from ninety. The crowd knew some of the numbers--the ones the wrestlers had deigned to reveal for plot-related reasons--but in most cases, the identity of the next wrestler was a mystery. Thus the crowd noise sharpened and focused as the numbers got to single digits; a smattering of voices counted down the last numbers until--
A buzzer went off and familiar eerie laughter filled the auditorium as the Joker strode down the ramp and slid into the ring like a venomous snake.
The Dark Knight was ready for him, leaping forward to attack the moment he was in the ring. The two were evenly matched as usual, battling around the squared circle giving and taking blows until the clock hit zero again and--
This time the crowd lifted to its feet in delight and surprise as Wonder Woman’s music hit.
The Amazon rushed down the ring, ignoring the cheers of the crowd, a fierce grin on her face, vaulting into the ring and onto the startled Joker. Within moments she and the Dark Knight were back to back and the Joker was cowering in a corner. The Dark Knight swung around and held out his hand; Diana shook it without hesitation and they fell to work trying to get the Joker out of the ring.
This proved harder than expected as he capered and gyrated around them, buying himself time until the final seconds ticked off and Solomon Grundy lumbered out from the back to a chorus of yells. Grundy ignored Joker entirely in favor of attacking the two babyfaces, and the tide turned once again.
There was a spot where Wonder Woman managed to lift Grundy up and over the ropes by herself--the crowd gasped in disbelief--and he tumbled over the ropes, becoming the first wrestler to be eliminated. But just as she did, the clock ticked down again--this time the people counting down along with it were louder--and Sinestro swaggered down the ramp and into the ring.
From then on there was a time of chaotic activity as various heels and faces came in and were thrown out. Tim Drake ran in to a chorus of support for the DCW’s favorite underdog, and for a few minutes it looked like he was going to do well as he used the chaos against the other contestants, dodging the stronger ones and causing people to careen into unintended targets. Joker grabbed him and tossed him over the ropes--but he grabbed the top rope and his feet dangled free, not touching the floor. Waiting until the Joker had turned away, assuming he was eliminated, Tim flipped himself back up over the rope and was back in the match--for a few minutes, at least, until he was eliminated unequivocally by Black Manta to a chorus of disappointed boos.
As the match went on, it became increasingly clear that Brainiac’s Injustice League was holding up their end of the bargain: given the chance, they targeted the Dark Knight over anyone else, and they didn’t attack each other at all. The crowd booed lustily as the members of the nascent stable worked over the babyfaces, concentrating on the Dark Knight.
There was a brief moment in the battle, one that people commented on later as foreshadowing, when the Dark Knight, Green Lantern, Aquaman, Flash, and Wonder Woman all stood back to back in the middle of the ring, surrounded by enemies, forced to band together. Each of them were skilled wrestlers, but somehow their communication skills were off, their moves didn’t come together--it was like they were missing some essential piece. One by one they got picked off by the Injustice League, until the Dark Knight was the only one of the top-ranked babyfaces left.
The clock ticked inexorably down to number twenty-three, the crowd by now bellowing out the last second with gusto, and--
A cheesy 90s synth beat played, one that had never been heard in a DCW arena. Some of the audience seemed confused, but a decent number started to scream and cheer with abandon as Booster Gold, formerly of the JLI, came strutting down the ramp.
Backstage, waiting for his turn in the Gorilla position, Clark couldn’t help but smile at the audience’s reaction. “What the hell,” said Ted Kord, waiting for his cue, “I didn’t think he’d get bit of a pop. They’re happy to see us? They remember us?”
“Of course they do,” said Clark. “You think everyone’s forgotten the JLI? All the good times? The laughs?”
“The lack of cash?” quipped Ted dryly, but he was smiling as he watched Booster Gold enter the ring to the cheers of the crowd. “Atta boy, Mikey,” he said softly. Then he looked at the clock, nearly back down to zero. “Well, time to see if anyone out there remembers a tubby nerd from the old days.”
Clark didn’t say anything to that, but waited with a slight smile until the sound of Beetle’s music and the swelling roar of the crowd proved his suspicions right. “Comedy faces,” he said to Billy Batson, still waiting for his number. “An under-appreciated genre.”
“If you say so,” said Billy, fussing with his gold-embroidered cape, but Clark noticed he was smiling.
At twenty-six, Amazo came out to a chorus of boos, making his slow, mechanical way to the ring. By this point the Dark Knight was the only babyface left in the ring, Booster and Beetle having gotten simultaneously tossed out by Deathstroke, and he was surrounded by the Injustice League, barely holding his own. As Amazo came into the ring, the Dark Knight put in a flurry of offense, lashing out at all of the heels. He managed to toss Black Manta over the ropes, then delivered a kick to the Joker’s knees that sent the Clown Prince of Crime out of the ring.
However, distracted by Amazo’s attack, the Dark Knight did not notice that the Joker had gone out between the ropes rather than over the top rope. The announcers were sure to mention it as the Joker--at first dazed, then grinning gleefully as he realized what had happened--got as close as possible to the ring and waited to make his move.
With a desperate urgency, the Dark Knight managed to clear the ring of everyone but Amazo, and the two put on an impressive set of spots and moves for the rapt crowd. Amazo managed to use signature moves of five different wrestlers, delivering all of them with ease. When Red Tornado ran in at number twenty-seven, Amazo knocked him out effortlessly with his own finisher, then tossed him over the ropes with contempt before turning back to the Dark Knight. Captain Cold and Mister Miracle, at twenty-eight and twenty-nine, met similar quick endings.
By now the audience was on its feet. They knew that the Kryptonian was the last contestant, and they knew that Brainiac wanted the Dark Knight gone by any means necessary before he reached the ring. Thousands of voices screamed their support as the Dark Knight hung on tenaciously against the inexorable tide of Amazo’s attack, absorbing a flurry of blows to his ribs and face before finally managing to hoist the “android” over the top ring.
There were twenty seconds left. The Dark Knight stood alone in the ring, a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, one arm wrapped protectively around his ribs. He staggered, swayed on his feet, and looked to the top of the ramp as the clock ticked down and the audience counted down with it.
“Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two…one!”
At the sound of the buzzer, the ominous dark music of the Kryptonian started, and he appeared at the top of the ramp with Brainiac at his side. The camera zoomed in on the Dark Knight’s face, his teeth gritted on his own blood, waiting.
The Kryptonian came down to the ring with Brainiac jabbering urgently at him, climbed the steps with no expression on his face, and entered the ring. His scarlet eyes gazed straight ahead, at and through his opponent.
He advanced on the Dark Knight--then paused.
“Kal,” said the Dark Knight, and his voice cracked and broke into a suddenly-almost-silent arena, straining to catch what was said between the two men. “I won’t fight you, Kal. But you have to fight him.” He pointed at Brainiac, who shrieked in fury and pulled out the long red crystal rod, waving it frantically. The Kryptonian shook his head--then winced in pain and continued to move toward the Dark Knight, his hands outstretched.
The Dark Knight threw himself backwards, slingshotted himself off the ropes--and then ducked under the Kryptonian’s clothesline and threw himself over the top rope.
The crowd moaned in despair as he careened out of the ring, but their groans turned to gasps of amazement as the Dark Knight grabbed the crystal rod out of Brainiac’s hands and landed hard on the announcer’s table.
From his vantage point in the ring, Clark--keeping his face blank and his hands out--could hear the announcers shrieking that the Dark Knight’s feet hadn’t touched the ground, and therefore he wasn’t eliminated yet. The Kryptonian came to the edge of the ring, gazing down at the Dark Knight--and the Dark Knight raised the red crystal rod above his head and snapped it in two.
The Kryptonian collapsed to his knees, clutching at his head in obvious agony. As Brainiac howled, the Dark Knight then grabbed a rolling chair from the announcer’s table, shoved it forward, and rode it back to the ring, leaping from it and back over the ropes without ever touching the ground and being eliminated. “That isn’t fair!” Glorious Godfrey was hyperventilating, while Grodd was patiently explaining that it didn’t technically violate the rules, so…
“Kal,” said the Dark Knight, putting his hands on the Kryptonian’s shoulders. He sank to his knees in front of him and took his head in his hands, tilting his face upward. ”Kal.”
The Kryptonian looked up--and the crowd gasped again, for his eyes were no longer crimson but bright blue. He was dazed and in pain, tears glittering on his lashes and at the corners of his eyes, and he shook his head in confusion. Swaying to his feet, he gazed around the ring, staring up at the crowds as if he had never seen them before. He looked back at the Dark Knight and for a long moment their eyes locked.
Then, rubbing his forehead, the man who had been called the Kryptonian turned and left the ring, stepping over the top ropes and to the floor, eliminating himself from the Royal Rumble.
As he staggered up the ramp, Clark could hear the audience surging in excited confusion. The Dark Knight was the last man left in the ring, does that mean he--won? He slowed down his steps, waiting for his cue.
He happened to be looking at a child’s face when it happened, saw the confused delight switch to horror, and knew that the Joker had finished biding his time, had scrambled into the ring and was kicking the wounded Dark Knight with all his strength.
At the top of the ramp, the Kryptonian turned around as the Joker managed to heave the battered, exhausted Dark Knight over the top rope. The Dark Knight clung to the rope for a moment, struggling, but the Joker kicked him hard in the damaged ribs and he let go, crashing to the ground. The bell rang. The Joker had won the Royal Rumble.
The referee came up to try and lift the Joker’s hand, but he shoved him aside and leaped out of the ring to continue beating up the Dark Knight, who was clearly struggling to hang on to consciousness.
The Kryptonian looked down at the ring, his blue eyes puzzled. “Help him!” yelled a child’s voice from the audience. “You have to help him!” The Kryptonian frowned, his head tilted to the side as he watched the Joker attempt to destroy his helpless victim. Then his eyes cleared.
This time, when he ran down to the ring, his movements weren’t robotic; they were full of energy, purpose, passion.
He grabbed the startled Joker and threw him into a barricade in a whirlwind of limbs. The Joker lashed out, but it was useless; his foe was unstoppable, charged with righteous anger. Kal-El hurled him into the Spanish announcer’s table, where Brainiac was still standing, fuming impotently, and sent both of them crashing over the table and into the barricade beyond.
Then he turned and made his way back to where the Dark Knight was lying, half-conscious and bleeding from the mouth.
Kneeling, he wiped the blood from the corner of his former-enemy’s mouth, almost tenderly. The Dark Knight managed to get himself upright, staring at Kal-El. Kal-El smiled at him, a small and clumsy smile, as if he had almost forgotten how.
Then Kal-El helped the Dark Knight to his feet and they made their way out of the arena to the cheers of the crowd. They hadn’t won the Royal Rumble, but they had won something much more important.
All Clark could think as they stopped at the top of the ring to look back at their fallen enemies (and give the crowd a last delirious moment to cheer them) was that the Kryptonian gimmick was dead--at last, at last, at last.
“You have no idea how hard it was not to kiss the tears on your lashes away, you ridiculous man,” Bruce said later, as they curled up around each other in their hotel room. “You never told me you could cry on cue.”
“Well,” said Clark, “It did help that I’d been poking at my eyes to get those damn contacts out.” He’d dropped them on the mat and “accidentally” crushed them, too, enjoying the tiny crunch beneath his knee. “How about you?” he went on, touching the corner of Bruce’s mouth. “You told Amazo to hit you stiff, didn’t you? You just had to have that touch of scarlet.”
Bruce kissed his finger lightly. “That’s me, always looking for the good visual.”
“Hard to beat the two of us at the top of the ramp with our arms around each other,” Clark said.
“We are hard to beat, aren’t we?” Bruce sounded smug. “In every way.”