9507/Age of Darkness: Batman Vs Superman - Round One

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Age of Darkness: Batman Vs Superman - Round One
Date of Scene: 09 October 2019
Location: Central Business District, New Troy
Synopsis: Batman and Superman battle each other to save the world from Yuga Khan...and both are critically, if not, mortally wounded by the battle. Is this the Death of Superman and the end of Yuga Khan? The Age of Darkness truly begins.
Cast of Characters: Batman, Superman
Tinyplot: Age of Darkness


Batman has posed:
'Sound trumpets! Let our bloody colours wave!
And either victory, or else a grave.'

The playing field was set. The pieces were in motion. Everything that could be done had been, and so there was nothing left to do but wait. The hour come now for which Bruce Wayne had been preparing these past weeks - perhaps had been preparing since the first time he looked to the skies and saw the gods that dwelt amongst us.

The battlefield has been carefully chosen. Metropolis - his city. So, too, has the time. Midday - his hour. There could be no uncertainty. The Dark Knight needed to be certain that the Man of Steel would come. There the Batman stands, atop a rooftop overlooking Metropolis' busy central business district. He lifts his hand, depressing a trigger he holds in one hand.

There is no obvious sound. The people below go about their business as they always have. But miles away, in the suburbs, dogs howl and paw at the ground. An ear-piercing shriek, far beyond the capacity of human hearing, rings across the City of Tomorrow.

A message. A call to battle.

Superman has posed:
Superman was in his Clark Kent guise at this time of day. He was downstairs, just outside the Daily Planet, and having a cup of coffee. The man's face was troubled, and he was not tasting the coffee that was touching his tongue. The coffee was now forgotten as his eyes look up at the sky, and the pigeons flying above. The sun was shining, and for a moment he closes his eyes, feeling the life giving sun on his face. For a moment, the man was once again Clark Kent. Kal El. Superman.

Something was dark inside him, and the battle was a never ending fight within him. A fight for the soul of Earth's Greatest Champion. Several months ago the man was kidnapped, and taken to the darkest of places in the Universe. Apokalypse. There, something was done to him. A necromatic experiment of darkest super science by none other than DeSaad, lackie of Darkseid, was orchestrated on him. However, before the experiment could be completed, the heroes of Earth and the Justice League, saved him. Or did they?

Slowly, over the course of weeks, the cancer that was Yuga Khan, and the essence of a being more evil than Darkseid, slowly fought a battle of wills against the soul of a hero. The soul of that hero was losing...and this is now.

A sound. What was that sound? A flash of anger let the demon lose for a moment once more. An excrutiating sound to his hearing. It was a message, a signal known to a very, very select few. So, with a dash for the darkness of an alleyway, the change was made in a split second, and a flash of red and blue streaks into the sky towards...a singular rooftop. Within seconds he was there, floating above the rooftop, his cap flapping gently in the wind. Hands on his hips. "Turn it off." Was all he said. Even his voice was cold. Not the warmth of the man he was.

Batman has posed:
There is something infuriatingly slow about the way the Batman lifts the device, turning it slowly in his hand, and then flicks the switch to end the ear-piercing wail. All in all, it is a matter of mere seconds, but it may well feel like an eternity. Once it is off, he returns it to where it hangs on his belt. Both hands disappear beneath the steel-blue cape he wears, the shadows somehow managing to cling to him in spite of the noonday sun.

"You're a danger now, Clark," the Dark Knight says flatly, his tone perfunctory - almost like a prepared speech, "Metallo. Those Sentinels. This isn't you."

He had promised himself he would try. He would not go to war with Last Son of Krypton without at least an attempt at peace. He owed him that much. The man who had been his friend and, he hoped, may one day be again.

But he knew this day would come. In the end he would need to pick a side, and he'd always known what side it would be.

"You need to let me help you."

Superman has posed:
Superman watches him closely. The Batman. His eyes narrow and try to penetrate the man's defenses. It was agonizingly slow to Superman's senses as he was in a heightened sense of awareness, but he also knew that this man was his friend. Some would say, best friend. So there was a measure of trust involved, even as the insidious blight that was inside his blood was seeping into everything. So, to Superman, he had the advantage here, not thinking strategically. Not thinking like Batman.

There. With a click, the sound was gone, and Superman's face cleared of the "irratation" it had showed upon his arrival. Words. The words manage to easily make their way to Superman across the divide between the two heroes. With those words, however, the chasm seems to grow with each syllable. "A danger. Me? I operate in the sun, Dark Knight. You, the shadows." Was that...arrogance in his voice? "Metallo. The Sentinels. Those are only the two you know of."

Superman slowly drifts closer, closer...subtley of course. "You need to help me? My friend..." Superman's arms go wide, as though in an embrace from several dozen meters away, "...I think you are the one who needs my help. Let me go back to Gotham with you, and I will eliminate all your problems in a day. It would be my pleasure." There was a subtle glint in his eyes, almost like he was looking forward to that choice.

Batman has posed:
Batman knew the way this would go. He had known the second he set foot on this path. Those he had deigned to speak to about his intentions had all offered alternatives - various ways out so that he might not need to bear this weight alone - but all had been rejected. Perhaps, once, it would have broken his heart to do so. Now, there is only the wall. An edifice, tall and imposing, around the soft core of his being - turning crippling emotion into focus and strength. A strength that allows him to see the creature lurking within the body of a friend.

"That's not how we work, Clark," he continues to use that name, the adopted name - the name of the mortal, not the god, "You know that better than anyone. We can't police the world. As soon as we try, we become those things we vowed to stand against."

Once more, his hand emerges from the folds of his cape - a gloved gauntlet, bulkier than normal, covering his fist. On the side a red-light blink ominously.

"This is a dead man's switch, attached to my suits biomonitoring system. If my heart stops, it'll detonate explosives at every Hyperloop station in Metropolis."

He reaches up another, similarly heavy glove, and taps a button on the gauntlet.

"Now, it's locked onto your biosignature. If you move out of range, those bombs will detonate - so don't try to find them."

The Dark Knight's jaw is set, his mouth a grim line of determination. There would always be a sacrifice, he knew that. It weighs on him, and it shows in his face.

"Do the right thing, Clark."

Superman has posed:
It was like Superman could sense how this would go. If there was one of, maybe, three people on the planet that could threaten him, this man was probably at the top of the list. It was inevitable that this day would come. A frown appears on Superman's nigh-perfect face. Inside, deep inside, something broke within him. Whether it was his heart, or the battle being fought inside was finally taking its inevitable turn, there was a sense of forboding. As if on cue, it got darker, as the clouds move in front of the sun.

"Clark." The voice was cold. "Come come Bruce, that isn't very nice, using /those/ names here, in public. You know better than that." A gentle "tsk, tsk" follows. "This world needs us to Police them. They are...weak. They need their gods to look after them and protect them. We've been soft for too long. You know? Perhaps President Superman may be the way to go next?" Superman's arms move across his chest, his muscles rippling in a not-so-subtle "stretch"

When Batman reveals his little explosive "trap" Superman stops his movement towards Batman. For a second. There. There it was! Subtle! A conflict on Superman's face. "Why would you do such a thing?" That was Clark's voice! "The people...Bruce...this isn't you." A pause. "Bruce...you need to run...I can't...hold..." Then, like a curtain across the stage, the other face was back. Cold. Uncaring. "Ah, the other shoe. Damned if I do..." Superman's eyes start to glow red. "...damned if I don't."

Batman has posed:
"President Superman," Batman repeats, teeth grinding together, "And then what? King Superman? Warlord Superman? Emperor? You know what happens when people like you take charge, Clark. Worlds burn."

That flinching moment gains his attentions, eyes drawn to it like a predator to sudden movement. A moment. A flicker of hope within there, like a candle guttering against a hurricane. Something he had both hoped and dreaded to see in equal measure. It would make what came next easier, but more painful.

"I'll do it because I have to. In the end, if I have to sacrifice a thousand lives for millions? Billions?"

He throws his cape aside, the suit he wears now visible. It is normal, mostly, save for gloves and boots bulkier than normal. The chest plate has been armored, and the blinking red light there matches the beat of his own heart. He lifts one gauntleted fist up before him, and a small panel about the knuckles snaps to the side with a hiss. The baleful green glow thrums, the chunk of kryptonite worked into the aperture already emitting that agonizing radiation.

"I would do it. How could I not?"

Superman has posed:
"Perhaps. World's may burn. Or they may not. Who knows? We'll just have to see. As for today, I suggest you give up, turn off your explosives so those people are unharmed, and we can be friends again. Or not. Sarcificing thousands for millions...just listen to yourself! We should be allies, not enemies." Superman was closer now, closer and within range to the next layer of the trap.

"Uhhn." Superman groans, and his red eyes flicker and fade to the true blue eyes of the hero Batman now knows was in there. Just at the edge of the ledge, Superman lands, a little less gracefully than normal, and grimaces. No matter how hard he tries, the pain was evident. "Kryptonite. Dirty play, Bruce. That was...ughn...not fair. Armored up as well. How did you hide...from me?"

Gritting his teeth, both Kal El and Yuga Khan struggle against this one achilles heel within the impenetrable armor of the Man of Steel. "Where...did...you...get that? I thought it was all destroyed!" This was of course deep in Kal El's memory, and something Yuga Khan also believed. "Do...it.." Was that Clark? His blues eyes find Bruce's... "...before.."

Batman has posed:
Batman moves forward quickly, neither savoring the moment nor hesitating. There is a job to be done here and nothing about him relishes it. As he moves, an identical panel on his other gauntlet opens in turn. This is his weapon - that deadly green ore, fashioned into bands across his knuckles.

"Lead lining. Even you can't see through it. The kryptonite itself? I kept it hidden for years. Buried in the Batcave, even my Family didn't know where it was or how to get to it. I'd hoped it would stay buried."

He draws back his fist and, with vicious precision honed by years studying at the feet of ancient masters, drives it across the Man of Steel's squared jaw. The metal ringing out as it meets durable, super-dense Kryptonian physiology.

"I'm sorry, Clark."

He wastes no more time, moving in - a blur of motion. His knee raises in an effort to strike at Superman's solar plexus, his elbow swinging downward like an axe at the space where neck meets shoulder. Brutal and efficient.

Superman has posed:
Now was one of those moments in time that everything slows down to seconds on the clock. His eyes watch as Batman's panel opens and the green rock is revealed. "Lead..." Superman almost spits the word out as the agony hits him, bringing him to one knee. Keeping it hidden was smart. Cunning. Obviously, the demon inside Superman's head, underestimated this "human". Kal El didn't though.

That hit. Followed by the "I'm sorry Clark" was like a pile driver striking across Superman's "squared jaw" of steel and a spike through his heart. It was massively painful...and it was not the last. Knee strike - crack! Broken ribs, 3 and 7. Elbow - another strike that would have annihilated a normal person. Crack! Broken collar bone? Perhaps. Superman raises his left arm, trying to fend off the blows, and feels it give under Batman's assault.

Staggering under the onslaught, Superman, deep down, knew he could not win this battle. Blow after blow lands, Batman's vicious fighting style and efficiency obvious as he, literally, pulled no punches. Superman was on the ropes, and this was almost over before it began...except. Crack! That blow sent Superman, who had just been on the ledge, over it.

Superman felt himself fall, like a waking dream, falling, and falling...the scream of the demon within, fighting against the helpless tumble with rage...the impact was earth shattering, literally. Bam! A car's siren shrieks as everyone turns to stare where the Man of Steel had just landed. Blackness...

Batman has posed:
Batman is not used to operating in the daylight. In truth, there are vast segments of the population that consider him an urban legend and even though his photograph has been captured a few times, it is rare that they make it into mass media. As such, many would find his appearance - especially so far from the grim and rain-soaked alleyways of Gotham City - startling to say the least.

The lead-lined compartments on the gauntlets seal shut once again, the eerie green glow that illuminated the Dark Knight disappearing as quickly as it came. He stands at the edge of the building, foot on the precipice, and stares down over it. He'd like for it to be over. Perhaps he hoped that whatever was inside Superman had been driven out by the assault. But he needed to be sure.

He steps off the edge, freefalling for a moment before a hand shoots out to fire a grappling line. His pace is slowed, just enough that he lands in a crouch next to the ruined car upon which the Man of Steel lays. He slowly rises to his feet, drawing shocked gasps as the gathered people get what may very well be their first ever glimpse of the Batman. Smartphone cameras click, hushed voices whisper urgently to one another.

He steps up onto the car, looking down at the still form of Superman.

Superman has posed:
It was a strange feeling. Falling into blackness. So much pain. Not all his own. Flashes hit him. A young woman's face, blonde hair, with an "S"...a dog with a cape, licking his face...a younger version of himself...Conner...a grey haired man, older, wiser, and a beautiful woman beside him, so sad. Tears...there were tears...heat, light, a rumble, and a planet was gone...emptiness...space...a man in a checkered shirt, and a woman, with long, red hair...apple pie! Growing up...a woman with ebony hair...flying...6 friends around a table fighting for Justice...

Darness. Hate. Anger. Rage. A wall...trapped! My son...taking his place to rule Apokalypse! Mine! His wife...gone. Trapped! Escape...greasy haired DeSaad...opening eyes...blue skies! What was this? Trapped again...two places at once...Bats! What are Bats? Fight! Claw! Rage! Hate! Pain! Delicious pain...

As Batman gets close enough to see him, it was obvious that Superman was in very bad shape. His face was a mess. His left eye was swollen shut, there were lacerations and bruising all over his face, and hands. Blood was everywhere, including on his lips. It didn't appear he was breathing.

However, with Batman's superior observation skills, he could tell. He was healing. Suddenly, Superman's right eye flashes open. It was all black. He sits up and his hand reaches out, as fast as the Fastest Man alive, aiming for Batman's neck, his eye changing from blue to as red as the sun of Krypton. The look was all rage, and not Clark. Bruce Wayne meet Yuga Khan.

Batman has posed:
The stillness leads Batman to believe, for a moment, that he's done it. That oath he swore never to take a life - broken in the interest of saving billions of them. Shattered because he knew that, somewhere inside that body that was Clark Kent, his friend would want him to do it. He'd said as much, hadn't he? Or was it just Bruce's imagination?

But he pauses, the heads-up display of his cowl confirming what he had already seen for himself. Lacerations healing themselves shut, a broken collarbone resetting itself. His eyes widen behind the mask. One hand goes for the other, reaching to open the apertures there. To expose the kryptonite again -

"UGHK!"

He's too late. The gloves remain closed as the hand catches around his throat, both gauntleted hands reaching up to clasp Superman's wrists. His legs kick out, seeking out those fractured ribs - ribs that may well already be healed - and attempting to drive his heels into them.

"Clark - " he gasps, already feeling that menacing grip choking of airways, " - fight!"

Superman has posed:
At this point, Superman has one good arm working at about 50 percent, and that arm was still strong enough to snap even a God of Thunder in half. As his hand closes around Batman's neck, a dark, evil smile appears. First he sits up in the junked remnants of the car. Then he stands, holding Batman up in the air with that one, good arm. All of this happens so fast, even the Flash might have missed it.

Batman's kick does connect to broken flesh under his skin, and it hurts, badly, as he wasn't fully invulnerable yet. That was rib 5. But Superman ignores the pain. Actually, it was Yuga Khan ignoring the pain, hissing at the trapped Bat. "Zzzat." Superman's eye flashes, sealing the kryptonite in the suit with a flash of solar powered heat. The heat of a sun.

The voice that rasps out of the broken jaw was terrible sounding. Cold. Like the grave or a zombie from the Source Wall. Squeezing, just enough to choke but not kill, Khan laughs. Trying to get his other arm to work, Superman snorts, and stops, as he realises it was a mess of broken bones and dislocated.

"You had me...but you care for this body." Superman whispers. Or was it Yuga Khan. "Now its over. I want you to suffer. Before I end it, you will beg me for release." Then, almost with a casual toss, Superman throws Batman against the nearest wall or window, at full strength (not knowing that something was still fighting him) no longer caring about the people or the damage, just wanting it to hurt. His arrogance and overconfidence astonishing.

Batman has posed:
"Clark - ghh!"

Batman raises his fist to open the kryptonite aperture once more, but then that burst of heat vision seals it shut. He flexes his wrist, activating the trigger only to hear the lead shielding grind but remain in place. That's one weapon out of commission, and he rears his fist back to throw another punch.

Then he's moving, flung through the air and into the stonework facade of a nearby building. The batsuit he wears seems to flicker for a moment, surrounded by some sort of shimmering field in a rough sphere that flashes the moment he strikes the brickwork. It crumbles as he strikes it, the Dark Knight disappearing into the masonry for a moment.

But, a moment later, he rises. The bricks are tossed aside, and the Batman rises to his feet. The strange semi-invisible field around him flickers and vanishes, the blinking red light on that chest plate fading and turning suddenly blue. It seems for a moment as though he will close on Superman again, standing with both fists clenched at his sides. A single spiderweb-thin trail of blood spilling from his lip.

"I don't beg."

There is the rev of an engine like a jet turbine, accompanied by the screech of tires against asphalt. The people who hadn't already begun to fled the area dive to the side, making way for the Batmobile. Heavily armored, rocketing at speeds to make even a Formula One race driver think twice, it banks off the sidewalk and hurtles through the air - right at Superman!

Superman has posed:
Superman could feel his bones and his wounds healing, slowly, ever so slowly. This body was incredibly powerful under this sun. Limping for two steps, he then decides to float above the ground, wondering why he would walk when he could fly. It was almost second nature to him. Wiping the blood from his mouth, he growls. That was when the Batmobile came out of no where!

With only time for a quick look, it hits him at full speed. The sound of crunching metal and gears mewling are loud as it strikes the Man of Steel. He only had time to raise his one hand in the air as it hits him, burying him under a ton of metal.

Everything was quiet for a moment, as people run from the scene, frightened and unbelieving at what they were seeing. Then, a rumble, as the remnants of the Batmobile were raised in the air. The familiar legs of Superman appear in their distinct blue legs and red boots. Then his body, the distinct "S" on his chest. Then, the Batmobile was coming towards Batman...flung there by Superman, with one arm, hard.

Batman has posed:
The Batmobile was destroyed. It wouldn't be the first time Batman had been forced to play that card, though he'd sacrificed millions of dollars already in this fight - what was a little more? As the car comes hurtling towards him, he ducks to the side only for white hot pain to blister out from his shoulder like a bolt of lightning. The wall. It'd done more damage than he'd thought.

The car strikes him, and though he rolls with it the sheer force and speed hits him like what it is - a speeding truck. He bounces off the crumpled fender, skidding across the asphalt on one side. The suit torn and shredded, his arm hanging at a bizarre and dislocated angle. His jaw swollen beneath his cowl, which is itself shredded and torn.

He doesn't move for a moment, the light on his chest plate blinking slower now. He begins to stir, pushing himself up on one hand. Breathing strained, shoulders hunched. His one good arm raised up before him, fist clenched.

Superman has posed:
Superman was suddenly there. Man he was fast! Reaching down, with his right hand, he lifts Batman. He can feel his other arm now, just healed enough to allow him to do this. With an evil smile, he flexes, and rips the armor off of Batman, just leaving him in whatever he wears under that armor. Then, he pushes Batman into the ground. Hard. Very, very hard. It should have killed him. Almost full strength. Why would Khan hold back?

"I am impressed, Batman. You did well for a human. But now it is over." Superman's one open eye glows red. "Pray to whatever Gods you worship. Or perhaps, you can pray to me. Those mortals you put in harms way...perhaps they will forgive you. Goodbye." However, something happened. The heat vision blast did not come.

Deep within the Man of Steel, something happened. The soul of Kal El finally woke up, and left his memories behind. The spirits of those he loved, long departed were there as well. Helping him to fight the evil within him! With their strength, Superman fought back, and would not allow the killing blow to come. "No..." Yuga Khan was howling within Superman, fighting to kill this Bat that he had in his grip.

The red glow in Superman's eye fades, and his eye looks deep wihin Bruce's eyes. The sign was there. Now.

Batman has posed:
"Clark - " Batman groans, his voice thick with pain as he fights to maintain consciousness, "Never - ghk - never was ... any bomb. Just ... needed you to - ngh - to believe I was capable of that."

That's the trick of it, really. The source of all the Dark Knight's strength. The belief that, in the end, he would go to whatever far Plutonian shore necessary to achieve his goal. That all those oaths and codes he holds to would be discarded if it meant clasping victory from the jaws of defeat.

High above, a black and silver drone in the shape of a stylized bat swoops downwards. Activated, homing in on the source of the blinking light on Batman's armor where it now lies crumpled and broken on the ground. The underside opens, a payload released and rocketing through the air towards the Man of Steel. A smart missile, cutting towards the pair.

"You're - heh ... good person. I'm ... not."

The missile hits home, but rather than explodes it evaporates in a cloud of radiant green mist. Not as strong as kryptonite but airborne, choking and burning. Sinking in. Burrowing into pores. When it finally fades ...

The Dark Knight is gone.

Superman has posed:
The missile hits home. Superman winces and inhales, deeply, on purpose, the green mist doing its damage. Yuga Khan, the creature inside the Man of Steel, shrieks in anger, in rage, and realises it is trapped. It burrows deep, trying to get away, but there is no escape. Kal El with his friends (including Bruce) and his family was there once more. With a final cry of rage, the link to Yuga Khan was severed, by the warmth and compassion of the light within. Perhaps...forever.

Superman stands, not realising he had let go of Bruce. Clark Kent, Kal El, Superman, staggers out of the broken building, walks three steps, and collapses on the ground. With a smile. As the darkness envelopes him, he was sad at all of the darkness he was forced to do and finally, leaving it all behind.

Was this the end of the Man of Steel?