Beyond Smallville: Fan Fiction

Teaser: Moving On

Lois Lane sat dejectedly alongside the makeshift fireplace near the antique brick wall in Lana’s old apartment above the Talon Coffee Shop. Her younger cousin Chloe Sullivan had just come in after a late night date with Jimmy Olsen. Lois wolfed down the last of her ice cream.

She’d polished off a full quart over the course of the evening. "Wow! You’re really in the dumps, aren’t you Lo’?" Chloe asked worriedly. At least it hadn’t been a fifth of Gentleman Jack, she thought sourly. "Yeah, you might say that, Chlo’." Lois replied.

"How was your date with the ace photographer?" She added, unable to keep the hint of bitterness out of her voice. "Okay, but my guess is that you don’t particularly care right now. Do you want to talk about it?" Chloe sat next to the pretty twenty-two year old.

"I don’t know. I mean, shouldn’t I be happy?" Lois was truly perplexed. "I finally got the job at the Daily Planet, following in your footsteps, all my bills are paid for, the General and Lucy have made up..." Her voice trailed off. "But...?" Chloe prodded.

Lois curled up into a ball on the well worn couch, tucking her feet beneath her. "I mean, it’s not as if guys are pounding on my door for a date." Chloe suppressed a smile. Oh is that all? She silently felt relieved. "Boy problems...or lack thereof." Lois nodded sheepishly.

"Pretty pathetic, huh?" Chloe shook her head and grabbed a box of potato chips, snapping off the boxtop in the process. "No Lois. It’s just the normal dating blues.

I’m like the queen of unrequited love, but for what it’s worth, you’re still young, you’ve plenty of time to find Mr. Right. Besides, with your new position at the Planet, dating will be the last thing on your mind."

Lois stared at her like a deer in the headlights. "Not helping, huh?" Chloe admitted. "Sorry Lo’ but I pretty much used up all my great speeches on a certain troublesome farm boy we know. I swear trouble comes looking specifically for Clark." That’s no joke, either.

"At least Lana’s back to normal." Lois said, though Chloe thought she noticed a decided lack of sincerity in her voice. "Well, not really. Lana is no longer comatose, but she’s far from back to normal. To be honest, I don’t think that she’ll be coming back from this disaster."

"That sucks." Lois remarked. Now that sounds more like my Lois, Chloe thought cynically. "Clark can pull her through right?" Lois added hopefully. "I don’t know, cuz. She was talking about leaving Smallville for good this time." Chloe informed her.

"Then Clark’s going to sell the farm and go wherever with her?" Lois probed. Chloe noted that her downtrodden cousin seemed unusually interested in the Lana and Clark soap opera.

"I’m not sure. Clark’s not the same as he used to be anymore either. The last four years have been hell on all of us, space aliens, meteor freaks, and crazed megalomaniacs to boot."

Lois had begun to consider a new crazy idea that Chloe knew nothing about. "I thought this was your pity party, how did we get on the subject of Lana and Clark?" Chloe asked.

"You’re right. Care to help me wallow in some more ice cream?" Lois attempted to grin, yet came up short. "Sure. What is family for, if not to contribute to your cholesterol poisoning?"

Meanwhile, miles and miles from Smallville:

 A Dark Knight:

    Never let the facts stand in the way of a good story. – Marcus Worthington.Forward: Ever Vigilant

            Gotham City is one of the largest cities in the Midwest, second only to Metropolis in size and population. The sprawling urban development is situated conveniently between two fairly large rivers, which pooled at their source to form Gotham Bay. One river eventually led into a freshwater lake, the other into the mighty Mississippi.

            Unfortunately, Gotham’s police force was mired in lawsuits ranging from abuse of authority, taking kickbacks, patronage issues, to apathy. It was time to clean the cesspool called Gotham up.

One good cop finally rose to power, Captain James Gordon. Caught with their hands in the cookie jar were the former Police Commissioner, Albrecht, the Chief of Detectives, Borroughs, and finally the scandal led right to the Mayor’s desk. The governor had called in a Special Prosecutor, Rachel Dawes, to clean house.

            A couple of the top dogs began to flip, naming names. Of the next senior officers in line for promotion, only Gordon had a record that was squeaky clean, compared to everyone else in power. He relied on a young police Sergeant named Michael O’Hara to cover his back.

Gordon was recently made a widower, his wife lost, caught in gunfight crossfire between two warring criminal gangs. His teen daughter Barbara was still in high school, and she was severely depressed, in need of counseling.

            The two officers had begun recruiting people interested in the Police Academy, but it would take time, lots of time to wade through the applications and background checks.

A majority of the remaining senior officers that hadn’t been dragged into the scandals opted for the day shift. This left the night shift constantly shorthanded.

The people of Gotham had very few options for protection. Gordon and O’Hara couldn’t do it alone. That’s where I come in.

-        Bruce Wayne.

   “Hey Alfred!” A tall dark haired man in his early twenties entered a finely paneled library.

At the center of the large room, seated at an old mahogany wood desk, was a white haired elder gentleman, likely in his early fifties.

 “Master Bruce, what brings you to the library of stately Wayne Manor? Is your computer system misbehaving?” Alfred toyed with the younger man.

            Bruce smirked. “It’s time Alfred.” The elder man gulped. “Time for what exactly?” Alfred asked warily, though he already knew the answer. “It’s time for the night shift to begin.” Bruce said, suddenly serious again.

Alfred glanced at him over the top of his reading glasses. “Very well.” He got up and walked over with perfect posture toward a bookcase. He grabbed a specific book called The Grey Ghost and yanked it forward.

A full quarter of the wall behind the bookcase across the room from him opened sideways, revealing a secret passageway. Red lights blared from just beyond the hidden doorway.

A few paces inside, a silver colored high tech streamlined elevator beckoned. It seemed out of synch with the classically decorated, paneled library.  “After you sir.” Alfred gestured elegantly.

 Young Bruce smiled and sprinted off into the passageway, calling the elevator and holding the button down as he waited for his manservant to follow.

Once the two were securely within, the elevator darted downward three, possibly four stories below the library wall. It slowed to a stop with a hiss. The bulletproof glass doors parted quickly as Bruce gingerly stepped out, Alfred close at his heel.

            The young billionaire flipped on two main switches, cleverly hidden behind a fake black boulder to the left of the elevator. Blue, green, purple, and red lights snapped on throughout the area.

A gigantic computer console with several video monitors flared to life. Each monitor provided a different geographical section or neighborhood of the nearby city.

 Wayne Manor was barely more than twelve miles out of town in an affluent rural area. Young Bruce was instantly hooked up to Gotham’s out of date security system. He literally saw everything.

            “Oh by the way Master Bruce, young Barbara Gordon called for you three times yesterday.” Alfred began with a twinkle in his eyes. “Is she okay?” Bruce asked in alarm.

“I believe so.” Alfred grinned beneath a powder white moustache. “She did say she was having problems with a specific social engagement.” Bruce was clueless, staring blankly at him.

            “What was it? Terrorists? Gangs? Criminal Masterminds and their minions?” The young billionaire asked excitedly. Alfred’s smile broadened. It was as close to an outright belly laugh as the conservative, reserved British Nobleman ever got. “No sir. I believe it was Junior Prom.”

Alfred enjoyed the gawk that his young charge displayed.            “Uh…I’m a little old for proms Alfred.” Bruce finally found his voice. “Barely sir. You are exactly six and one half years her senior.” He pointed out.

“Yeah, but how would it look for Bruce Wayne to take out an underage girl?” Alfred brushed him off. “It’s been done for years, Master Bruce. Dare I say it could be fun?

 Besides, Chief Gordon has issued a moratorium on young Barbara’s dating, unless it’s with someone he knows. Miss Gordon must undergo this social right of passage to get used to the idea of formal dating.”

            Bruce sighed. He knew better than to argue with Alfred. “Why do I have to be Barbara’s learning experience?” He protested mildly. “One must see the bigger picture Master Bruce. Chief Gordon will soon become the ally of the Batman.

 It’s likely according to the local political maelstrom I’ve been following in the Gotham Globe and Gotham Gazette, that Chief Gordon will soon be named Police Commissioner, putting him in a powerful position to help the Batman, and by extension, Gotham City.”

            “I can see that Alfred. What does that have to do with Bruce Wayne?” The billionaire heir asked with a puzzled expression. Alfred sighed patiently.

“The Batman must become friends with Bruce Wayne for obvious reasons. Bruce Wayne should befriend Chief Gordon, and help contribute to the cleanup of the city, therefore…”

            “Therefore, befriending Barbara Gordon works to the advantage of both The Batman and Bruce Wayne. Alfred, you’re brilliant.” Bruce gushed.

Alfred simply flashed him a knowing smile. Bruce popped open his cell phone and dialed Chief Gordon’s number. Several bats flew past the computer system in an attempt to evade the bright lights that had been switched on.

Alfred put the Bat-wave emergency signal on mute, just in case.     “Hello?” A charming female voice answered Bruce’s call. “Miss Gordon? Bruce Wayne. I heard you called for me?”

A startled gasp made its way through the top of the line cell phone’s high tech receiver. “Uh…thanks for calling me back.” Barbara said nervously. “Um…how should I put this? Can you accompany me to my Junior Prom…just as friends.”

Barbara grimaced, feeling like a total dork. “Certainly Miss Gordon. Is this all right with your father?” Bruce asked smoothly. “Uh…I’ll have to check and get back with you.” the teen beauty gulped.

“Please call me Barbara.” Even the battle hardened Bruce Wayne smirked at the pure absurdity of it all. “Okay Barbara. Give me a call back when you know something.”

Bruce looked over at Alfred, who gave him the thumbs up. “Okay. Thanks, uh Mr. Wayne.” Barbara’s adolescent voice cracked at the end of her sentence. “You may call me Bruce. Have a good day.” Barbara finally relaxed, now that the ordeal was over with. “You too. Bye.”

            Barbara clicked off her phone and made a sharp gesture with her fist in the air. “Yessss! Oh wait until I tell daddy! I’m going to prom with a billionaire! The other girls will be sooooo jealous!”

Barbara cartwheeled across the oblong kitchen, coming to rest beside the stove. “Oh my God! I don’t have my prom dress ready! It’s still on lay away at Shrek’s!”

            Bruce Wayne slowly paced the length of his den, though he couldn’t remember which of the four dens it was. He’d just received a disturbing phone call from one of his corporate associates.

Queen Industries had just opened a branch office in Metropolis. What was Oliver up to? He ought to know that Luthorcorp basically ran the large Mid-western city.

Bruce was certain that the Luthors and Oliver Queen were arch business rivals. He’d only met Lionel Luthor once, and all kinds of mental red flags went up in his mind.

He knew that the Luthors were dirty, in fact filthy. Lex was probably the worst of the two. He knew the guy had a massive ego. After Barbara's prom, i'll head straight to Metropolis, Bruce planned.

link to Evolutions: Competition