For polyships across the multiverse

Just Another Day in Gotham

The wind blew through open windows, curtains fluttering into the manor as sunlight made the broken glass glitter on the floor. Within the sitting room furniture sat upturned, daggers lay buried in the too thin walls as paper blew scattered through the space. Green seemed to glow among the wreckage of the Wayne Manor. The askew radio was faint and filled the home with static before a groan sounded.

Talia slowly came to, head aching and full of cotton. Her fingers twitched against the carpet where she lay crumbled on the floor. Long dark hair lay in waves around her surrounding her not unlike the remnants of glowing green and discarded weapons.

"C-Clark," her voice was hoarse, dry as she winced, raising her head as evenly as she could.

Her eyes roamed their love nest, but the assailants were long gone. They had been more than prepared not only for her but for Clark. She grunted, unable to push herself up with both arms, one shoulder clearly dislodged. She huffed out a breath as she gritted her teeth pushing herself up on her single arm. She blew hair out of her face before she threw her head back to rid herself of it, only to instantly regret it as dizziness clouded her swimming vision instead of her hair.

A curse left her grimacing lips, sitting up fully taking in the clues the culprits had left behind. It was clear that Bruce had slept at the office once more and that somehow the hoard of mask men had known. She blinked trying to force her eyes to clear, raising a hand to wipe the dried blood from her face. Few could pull off such an attack and live, she thought, dragging herself to her feet and moving to the hardwood archway.

She eyeballed the grandfather clock, and glared at it. She had been unconscious for far too long, lost too much time between the snatching of her love and now. A shout left her as she rammed her shoulder back into its socket on the hardwood. She rolled it slowly to test the ache in her muscles. She had no time to waste, she shook off the remainder of her disorientation and made for the door. Her arm reached upwards, ripping her daggers from the wall as she went to wake her gumshoe and rescue their stolen alien love.

Bruce started awake at the sound of the front office door slamming and the yell that followed it.

"Bruce!"

A groan left him, hat falling from his face at the sound of one of his lovers outside the door. He had meant to return home last night but had been consumed in his case. By the time he'd solved the case in a robbery gone wrong, he'd had ended up having a few too many drinks.

"Is he here?"

"Where else would he be?"

Bruce frowned, hearing his assistant laughing as he spoke. The smell of fresh java, no doubt made by Grayson, curbing his anger at the rude awakening.

The smell wafted through his closed office door, helping to rouse Bruce from the small settee he kept in his office.

"Never left after sending Bane to the big house. You know how he is."

A scoff sounded as Bruce grouched, pushing himself from his chesterfield and ankling towards the door. He lurched it open, hand scrubbing down his face.

"I do, unfortunately," she said, taking in the slept in sight of her beloved. "Someone has taken our Clark."

Bruce blinked, waking faster at that. "What?" He asked, looking at the java that was being poured much too slowly. He snapped his fingers and Dick rolled his eyes handing the mug to him. "How is that possible?"

Dick frowned at the news, taking in Talia and noting the rushed state of her dress and the smeared blood at her hairline.

"Someone got past you?" He asked while pouring her a cup adding a drop of the sauce to it. "Past Kent?"

Bruce frowned at the addition she received and he didn't. He shook his cup at the younger man to which Dick just frowned at him and turned to replace the pot on the hotplate.

She smirked at Bruce, offering a nod of thanks to Dick and taking a hardy sip of it before speaking. "They were well armed and prepared for us," she said bitterly, taking another sip. She pulled out her blade. "Alfred is currently busy removing all of this from our home."

Dick leaned in and Bruce downed the rest of his too hot joe, putting down his mug quickly to take the blade from her.

"Kryptonite?" He questioned, taking a slant at the odd dust on her blade and handle. "Not many know of Clark's origins," he said inspecting the dust.

It was a short list that knew, and shorter still who knew his only weakness — other than his shining heart in this dim and crime infested city. That also didn't account for who would have access to it.

"I don't think it was Father," she said, glaring at the green dusted dagger. "He has made peace with my choices and with yours."

"Agreed. He's given up on you after all these years. Plus, Ra's doesn't have access to this," he said, holding up the blade before turning back to his office. He went to his desk, digging through the drawers and pulling out a magnifying glass. "It's very refined kryptonite, almost pure."

"Hurtful, but not untrue," she admitted, crossing her arms as she followed him into his office. "If not Father," she began, stopping behind him with her mug, eyes narrowing on the blade under the glass. "There are still many others who would wish to harm our curious newsie." She leaned closer to Bruce from behind, focused on the dust. "But few know of his abilities and weaknesses."

"It's a short list," he agreed, trying to hide his worry of Clark having breathed in this fine powder. "I'll have to shake a few trees, see what comes out."

"You mean we," Talia corrected, downing the rest of her spiked coffee before slamming it down onto Bruce's desk. "I shall not be leaving this to only you, beloved. Clark relies on his abilities all too often. If he is without them and without his mask he will surely be in danger. We must retrieve him, together."

Bruce frowned at her. "We follow my rules then," when she shrugged him off moving away from him he rose quickly to grab her. "Talia, I'm serious. Clark won't like it. No killing." She frowned at him and glared at his grip around her biceps but he didn't relent. "Promise, my way or I'll drop you right back here."

Instead of breaking out of his hold she moved back to him, pressing to his front and looking up at his hard glare and matching it. "Fine," she sighed heavily as if the agreement would kill her. "I will be merciful today, but only if they have left him unharmed."

"Hospitals, not body bags." Bruce hummed seeing the worry that lay beneath the threat. "We'll get him back, beloved," he promised her, lifting her chin to press a reassuring kiss to her lips. "We will."

She returned the kiss, eyes tightly closed to fight back the worry that threatened to cloud her judgment, hands gripping his lapels and nodding.

"I know," she took a sharp inhale, eyes like burning coals opening with renewed determination. "Come, let's check the Gazette before we worry further."

"Then the refinery plants," he followed her out of his office, knowing someone had to have used them to refine the meteorites. As they left his office he handed back her blade and he put an eyeball on the desk Clark kept there. "Dick. Stay here. Take a gander through his files, let us know if he turns up and what angles he was working."

"Already on it," he said, shuffling through Clark's drawers. "So far I got sod all. If I find something, I'll drop a nickel," he said with a firm nod.

At the Gazette, Talia slammed a desk drawer closed with more force than it could probably handle. Startling Lois as the newshawk walked up to the space she shared with Clark.

"Whoa. Cool it doll," she said, glancing between the two she had only met a few times. She narrowed her eyes, popping her gum as she stopped just in front of them. "Where's the fire?"

Bruce looked up from the files he had found on Lexcorp. "When was the last time you laid eyes on Clark?" He glanced at her before looking back to the paperwork that seemed to be on the square but knowing the bad hat it was probably anything other than dodgy.

"Smallville?" Lois frowned, eyeballing the two. "Been a while… he missing?" She questioned concern etching into her voice.

"Yes. What was he working on last?"

Talia crossed her arms over her chest as she took a slant at Lois with a critical eye. She wasn't surprised when Lois shrugged. If something big was happening, something that could be dangerous, they all knew Clark would never involve her.

"He mention working on anything at all?"

"No, played it close to the chest. Didn't want me involved no matter how hard I pressed." She frowned, hands going to her hips as she leveled with the other woman, Bruce still reading the files. "And believe me, sister, I pressed."

Talia released a believing sound, finger curling to her chin and tapping her bottom lip as she thought. It was rare for the man they loved to work in the city rather than at home, especially if it was a case that may be dangerous. If that was the case the scattered state of their home could be the result not only of her fighting off Clark's captures, but also them searching after she had lost consciousness.

"You think he was working on something big?"

Bruce nodded to Lois's question. "I'm betting on it." His head turned as someone came up to Lois.

"Hey, you know a Wayne? Got someone on the horn for him."

"Yeah, Jimmy he's right here," Lois nodded to the PI.

Talia looked at him as Bruce rushed to take the call. "It should be Grayson with news," she said, eyes falling back onto Clark's desk. Her lips flattened into a tight line at the photo of the three of them from their last celebration, a birthday from a dear friend of Clark's if she was remembering correctly. "Hopefully," she added after a moment.

Lois moved closer to the other woman nodding to her, seeing the worry behind the mask of intensity. "If anyone can find him it's that flat foot of yours and you. No one makes a better team than you two."

Talia's eyes caught Bruce waving her to join her in leaving. "Clark makes us better," she said in a way of good bye. "Thank you for your help, Ms. Lane."

"Yeah, no problem." Lois watched her go turning as she passed her. "He has a habit of doing that to folks." Her eyes watched them leave before glomming at the photo of the three, hoping that they would find him soon.

Across the darkening city, Clark grunted. The lights were dim but illuminated enough for him to see the green surrounding him. He could hear the boiling gin and steam of the distillery and chains rattling in the breeze about him and felt blood as it slicked his skin. He could feel the heat at his back from the large vats just behind him. Clark tried to steady his breath, blood framing his face and decorating his split lip as he tried to free himself from the ropes around his broad chest and biceps that kept him in an old metal chair. Clark huffed at the queasiness that flooded him at trying to shuffle and shift his way free.

A grunt of aggravation left him, the brunette easily should have been able to break free, run home, and check in Talia, but all of that was just a fantasy with the pieces of his first home littered about him. Worry for her filled him despite his position, he had rarely seen anyone get the best of the trained assassin. He closed his eyes trying to shake the thought of her still laying motionless on their bedroom floor. Bruce would have found her and even if he hadn't their lover was strong. He had to have faith in her, faith that she would be fine.

Clark was happy at least that Luthor's men were taking a break from working him over but the blood on his tongue didn't give him high hopes for escaping. Luthor had to know the newsie wouldn't stop his investigation even if he was bleeding for the first time. The brunette would never join him, nor cover up the man's crimes, let alone stop trying to put a kibosh on his crimes anyway he could. He huffed out a breath trying to summon any strength to free himself from the chair and get away from the rocks that cursed him.

Clark took a deep breath, eyes opening as he tried to spot anything to help him. The brunette took a gander at the dirty cement floor that held sod all but the scattered rocks that kept him weak and sick. To his right there were controls and some sort of hook which was connected to the rails that ran along the high ceiling of the factory he had been investigating. He didn't gleam anything that he could reach let alone that would help him free himself in his weakened state.

Before he could think too much about any hope of a back-window, the door at the top of the stairs to his left opened. He grimaced when his alone time was cut short. He swallowed back the lurch of his stomach and throbbing pain in his head at the loud clanking steps of Luthor and his men as they clopped down the metal staircase. Clark gritted his teeth, forcing his eyes to focus on them enough to glare while fighting the unease of his stomach and his swimming vision.

Lex's smile became even smugger as he ambled down from the offices to the old factory floor seeing the way Clark tried to free himself. "It really is no use, kid," he called when he was on the bottom step. "You forget how well I know you, Kent. And I know you can not break free with so much of those rocks around you." He stopped just short of the ring of green, lamps sweeping over the rocks before looking back at the newsie. "So just take a load off and enjoy my hospitality while it lasts."

Clark panted, fighting back the bile in his throat. "Hospitality?" He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. "Some host, you are Luthor! Didn't even offer me a drink."

Lex chuckled dryly before pulling back his fist for a Sunday punch which had Clark's head snapped to the side with a satisfying crunch.

He smiled, shaking out his wrist and hand admiring the fresh blood on the alien's lips. "Oh, you have no idea how long I have wanted to do that." He chuckled with real mirth, glancing at one of the men behind him. "Why don't we get Mr. Kent a nibble? Everyone, even insufferable newshounds, deserve a last drink."

Clark spat blood onto the dirty floor, tongue going over his bloody teeth before spitting once more. "Last drink? Gonna burn me, Lexie?" He winced at the pain in his jaw not used to it.

A gasped cry left him when Lex dug his hands into his hair and pulled, yanking his head back viciously.

"Don't call me that, farm boy." His voice was a hiss, the nickname that had been hurled at him by Bruce and the other boys in his youth. "And to answer your question. Yes, I plan to bury you and your story. Quite literally."

Clark winced as Lex released him, neck rolling to the side. Lex watched him, smiling and satisfied in his silence and slow loss of consciousness. He patted his cheek before leaving Clark's space and standing straight once more.

"Rest up, Kent. I'll be back with that drink, and to watch you die." He hummed, taking a deep breath. "Wouldn't want to miss that."

It was hours before Clark would regain consciousness, and not before an old beater pulled up outside. The alien was unaware how close his lovers were to him, and they were just as unclear about his well being.

"Dick 's sure this is the place?"

Talia leaned forward in the passenger's seat of their beater as Bruce turned off the engine. Her eyes roved the seemingly abandoned warehouse that Clark had claimed was anything but.

"It lines up with Clark's notes on Luthor's shipments and movements." Bruce put his hat on as he stepped from the car. "Dick's got the double o on the other option, but this is our best bet."

She followed suit checking her piece before unsheathing her dagger as they approached the building. At the sight of the gun Bruce put his arm out in front of her.

"Nonlethal."

She narrowed her eyes at him, shoving her gun back into its holster and shouldering past him. "For Clark, perhaps," she muttered, jumping up to pull down the ladder and hurrying to climb up the fire escape. She grinned as she swung herself up, planning on taking the building from a higher vantage point. "Meet you in the middle, beloved."

Bruce frowned as he watched her climb, lips pressing into a thin line as she slipped through an open window. He shook his head, focusing on Clark rather than the deaths their girl could cause without someone watching over her shoulder.

As quietly and crouched low under the factory's windows as he could Bruce made his way towards a side entrance. He kept his hat low, as he tried the handle, finding it unlocked. He winced at the creak that sounded as he pushed it open enough to slip in. He shimmied his way inside, holding the door and closing it behind him, hoping that the soft click would be lost under the sound of machinery and goons bumping gums nearby.

He scanned the room, a dark office filled with dust covered supplies, before looking towards the open doorway to the factory floor. The floor was littered with broken glass and debris and he chose his steps wisely. He tilted his head, listening, as he crept through the unit office and towards the opening. Bruce readied himself, reaching into his inner pocket and pulling out his collapsed baton, being careful not to make a sound as he walked.

As he peered around the door frame, fanning for the guards that were surely strapped and waiting. Bruce kept searching, eyes peeled on the ground floor, moving slowly from the room to the boxes that lined the factory floor. He dared to stand a bit taller, peering inside and released a silent scoff at the booze within it. Of course this was all over a couple of bottles.

He looked up as he crouched back down, spotting the guards circling the floor. He took a slant at the upper level, spotting lights on in one of the offices and the shadows he was sure Talia was using to conceal herself. He could see a few guards there, pieces loaded and ready to fire, but had no doubt she could handle them.

His eyes stalled, worry filling him when he caught sight of Clark for the first time. The brunette's head was rolling from side to side, clearly unconscious, as he was hoisted higher and higher. The rope that bound him to a chair that was a glow with large chunks of green that looked woven through the knots. As he followed the chain with his gaze, Bruce could see the hook the chair was attached to kept being raised and dragging him closer to the superheated machinery.

Bruce swallowed it down his fear as best he could, heart squeezing at the sight of Clark's blood as his head lolled to the side. He had never witnessed the alien injured, not like this, with his sunlit skin broken and smeared with red, bruises littering his face and neck, and left eye nearly swollen shut. Talia would not go easy on them, and as his fists clenched and Clark's bound and balled up body was hoisted closer to the bubbling fermenting booze he didn't think he would either. He struggled to take his eyes off his lover, glued to the floor, before forcing himself to look away and right into Talia's burning gaze.

He wasn't sure if she saw him, but he had to believe and trust that she could handle the thugs up there, while he removed the goons on the ground and tried to get to the controls. Bruce swallowed watching her calculated rage and grip on her knives as their lover was moved closer to the bubbling vat.

He sucked in a calming breath before shooting out of the shadows, taking one by surprise. Bruce hit him hard with the baton across the back as it snapped out to full length. He hit him against the back of his head, catching him as he fell and using him as a shield. It was short lived as the others filled the man full of lead, and Bruce was forced to throw him forward before landing a hard kick to another's jaw, baton swinging out to slam down on his knuckles. He didn't pause in his fury of motion, baton and fists leveling blow after blow on the group. He turned, kicking another as his hand went to his belt to pull out a bully club before he brought it down across someone's shoulder with a satisfying crack.

Bruce turned, grunting at the blow to his stomach. He turned, raising his baton once more and cracking it across the last goon's free hands before the club slammed into his face. He watched them stagger, the last of them going down with a hard kick to his jaw. The gumshoe's head snapped to the sound of Talia's yell, the telltale sound of bodies dropping following her like they did everywhere.

He turned fully at Talia's shout as she jumped downward, bodies thumping to the ground around her and cushioning her fall as Talia threw them and herself over the rusting guardrails. He didn't have time to remind her about going easy, and as he looked up at Clark's motionless body, he found he didn't want to.

His baton landed one last time on a guard as he made to get back up. "Stay down pal," he said before making his way to her and the controls. Bruce didn't look at her, trying and failing to stop the belt the chain was connected to, before he tried to reverse it when that failed too. "It's jammed up. Luthor must have broken it," he grouched, hating Luthor's forethought.

She glared at the upper floor, gleaming Lex's smug grin as he rushed from the building. She moved towards the stairs, wanting to chase him, but Bruce held her back.

"We don't have time for him." He didn't look at her as he spoke, wanting to let her go, wanting to capture the bad hat as much as she did. "Not if we want to bring him home."

Her lips were pulled into a tight grimace, fingers clenching around her weapons before nodding. "What do you suggest?" She asked, shoulders relaxing a fraction as she pushed out a breath.

Bruce fanned around them, at the machine before nodding his head towards the control panel.

"I'll find something to get it to stop. Gum up the machine. You get him down."

He glanced back at her long enough to share nod before they both took off to complete their tasks.

Talia grunted, jumping up and climbing back up the rails. Her head turned, eyeballing her target as she jumped to the top floor. She turned against the shitty railing watching as Clark swung, chair and all, before lunching her way from the railing to the chain connected to him. Her hands nearly slipped but her legs wrapped tightly around the thick chain.

"Clark, love can you hear me?" She questioned. She frowned down at him before looking towards the hook. "Really wish you could fly right about now," she mumbled, feeling the heat from the fermenting beer.

She frowned, shimmying downward and carefully trying to rid the rope of its Kryptonite. She flung it as far away from them as she could, her eyes drinking in Clark's pale and red smeared face as she worked to undo the knots. She held tight to him as they swung closer to the impossible heat, hearing Bruce shout below just before the machinery made a horrid screech. Smoke filled the air as the two attached to the ceiling stopped abruptly.

Talia looked around them, the railing was not too far from them. Her eyes narrowed as she freed Clark from the chair only relaxing a fraction when he finally made a sound of pain when she held tight to him. Bruce saw her plan as they began to swing back and forth. The chair creaking under their combined weight. He raced to the top, meaning to try to catch them as he watched Talia swing them back and forth while cradling Clark to her chest.

"Ready beloved?" She asked once she was confident it was as close as she could get them.

"Come to me," Bruce said, ready to catch them and refusing to let them fall.

His arms reached and Talia grimaced as she pushed off from the metal chair with Clark's dead weight in her arms. A free hand reached and Bruce grabbed it, the other snatching the back of Clark's sweat drenched shirt.

"Got ya."

The former button woman took a deep breath as Bruce pulled Clark up while she held onto the railing and lifted herself over.

"You always manage to," she complimented, looking at Clark as Bruce inspected his wounds. "Let's get him home and healed," she commanded, hand pressing to Bruce's spine knowing the worry he held and concealed there. "He needs sunlight and us, but he will be fine."

Bruce nodded, frowning at the painted whine that left Clark as he lifted him. "Come on," he said as the brunette roused slightly. "We've got you," he said as Talia moved to take the weight of his other shoulder.

The brunette's hazed gaze opened looking to them both as they helped him towards the exit. "Should've known you would find me," he mumbled, exhausted but finally free of the dizziness they had been plaguing him since being dragged here. "Thank you," he said as a smile filled his healing lips, pained and small and brief as it was.