Categories > Cartoons > Justice League Unlimited


by Sinisterf 0 reviews

Scene from Justice League Unlimited, Episode 2, "For The Man Who Has Everything." Clark is lost in a perfect world designed to ensnare him. Diana fights for her life and Bruce does everything he ca...

Category: Justice League Unlimited - Rating: PG - Genres: Angst - Warnings: [!!!] [V] - Published: 2011-01-10 - Updated: 2011-01-10 - 329 words - Complete

"Clark," Batman rasped and looked down at his hands.

Squeeze. His fingers curling in to make a fist. Open. For just a moment, they were two dark spiders against the pure whiteness of the icy ground.

His eyes rose from their momentary contemplation of his own helplessness, to rest again on the face of his friend.

Bam. Crack. The ground shook.

He shook.

There was a scream. Two of them. The high pitched whine of another alien weapon being fired followed by the more human sound of a woman's voice.

In pain.

He forced himself to keep his eyes open.

The garish wound of the telepathic flower jarring against the primary colors of Superman's uniform. It was throbbing and alive, its tentacles obscene on the invulnerable flesh.

Bam. Crack. The sound of ice breaking and for a moment he saw pearls, wet asphalt and smelled gunpowder.


Somewhere, in the fortress, Diana was being murdered. Her screams and grunts of pain a counterpoint to the pounding of fists against her flesh and his own voice begging.

"Clark, she needs you."

Moving his eyes up and up to look into the face of his friend.

"We need you."

To look into eyes that were empty and a face that was slack.

His hands were on the flower, pulling, tugging, dark spiders scrabbling on obscene purple bark. No longer begging with only his voice, which was yelling over the sound of Diana dying.

And then the eyes he was looking into were looking back at him.

And they radiated pain. A pain he knew.

"Save her," he wanted to say, but he was falling and his name was being called and that was ok. Clark was free, and Clark understood.

And then it was dark, his mother was wearing pearls and he could smell his father's aftershave. The pavement was wet, there would be no gunshot.

Bam. Crack. This time, the sound of a fist hitting flesh was cathartic. He smiled.
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