The bat lost a bet

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɪɪ

(Notes:
(1) Lots of make-up stuff about Bruce’s early life and Superman’s physiology
(2) Creation of two new characters that do not exist in Batman/Superman movies or comics
(3) Lots of make-up stuff about Science that may not be plausible
(4) Plot-intensive and not X-rated in this chapter
(5) Plot continues with Bruce not remembering Clark's declaration of love at the end of Chapter 2. He will be reminded of Clark's love confession in the next chapter.

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Batman faltered in mid-punch, distracted by his mind’s replay of Clark’s kiss in HD clarity. His opponent, a balding drug-pusher, sneered in triumph and jabbed his switchblade at Batman’s throat with all his might. Batman scowled angrily as he flung himself two steps back and twisted to the side, dodging the attack. He then grasped the man’s outstretched arm with one hand, and with a vicious twist, he broke the man’s wrist before swinging him violently against the alley wall. The drug-pusher howled in agony and Batman, frustrated with his unruly thoughts, unwittingly kicked him hard in the groin when he was actually aiming for his knee. The drug-pusher spasmed at the excruciating pain and blacked out, hitting his head hard on the concrete ground.

Batman winced guiltily as he turned to deal with the drug’s pusher’s accomplice, a young man with freckles and blue eyes that reminded him of Clark. But the young man, his face white with fear, had already knelt down with both arms raised in the universal gesture for surrender. Batman stalked to him, intending to tie him up, when Clark popped into his consciousness again – this time replaying the feel of Clark’s quick agile fingers and his own enthusiastic response to them. Batman stumbled and blushed furiously. The young accomplice gulped and widened his eyes as he suddenly found Batman very attractive with that flustered look and all that leather and tight body-hugging suit. Before he could appreciate the sight a little more, Batman was gone and wailing sirens could be heard approaching from the distance.

“Wow, that was one hot-looking babe,” the young man muttered aloud as he scanned the vicinity, hoping for another peek at Batman.

A batarang suddenly flew out of the darkness and scythed off a huge swath of the young man’s black hair before it reached the end of its elliptical path and whirled back towards its owner. The young accomplice screamed and collapsed to the ground, clutching his partially-shaven head in terror just as the police arrived on the scene.

“I heard that!” Bruce grumbled with an offended huff from his shadowed hiding place on the rooftop. He deftly caught the returning batarang and stowed it away in his utility belt before burying his face in his hands, turning even redder in utter embarrassment.

Damn it! He had gone and done it again. He had let his thoughts get the better of him, and Batman had ended up acting weird and strangely out-of-character. All this would not have happened if he had not taken on that stupid bet of Clark’s. In one night and with one deed, Clark had completely derailed him and Bruce could not seem to get his life back on track. His memory was stuck in a loop, replaying details that he would rather not remember, and he simply could not concentrate. Even his playboy persona had been affected and he had nearly punched his bimbotic date when she tried to grope him at the Children’s Charity Ball four nights ago. It usually never bothered him much if his dates were feeling him up as that was part of the job scope that came with his cover identity. But after that ridiculous bet, any touchy-feely from anyone simply set him on edge, and Bruce could barely keep his emotions in check. Thankfully, Alfred was always there to pull him back from the brink, just like he was there when Bruce had gone off the deep end the day after the bet.