This is a story based on a reality birthed from Dr. Fate's dreams. Within this dreamed cosmos, witness the journeys of a new Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent as they travel paths very different from those you know and have read of time and time again.
Wi...
"Even the smallest person can change the course of the future." -J.R.R. Tolkien
A dream would always seem normal from its within.
One moment you may be reliving your fondest day or moment, while in the next, your fictional pleasure trip may be plagued by the most heinous, monstrous things. Our minds, even the simplest of minds among us, have so much to them that one can hardly predict what may happen when control sleeps and the shelves of memory begin rattling uncontrollably.
Dr Fate's or Kent Nelson's conscience tailed Carmine's '75 Eldorado (Which was actually a 59' Coupe DeVille as Kent only is as familiar as he is with cars, and he had imagined this reality into being.) while it whizzed along the rain glazed streets of Gotham, zigzagging past once-in-a-while obstacles along a route nearly scant of traffic, one he could draw with involuntary map-like perfect scale if asked.
"Hey Sally, what do ya reckon my dad'll have ta say about this?" asked The Roman to his long-time friend and current escort, Big Sal, a tubby bald man who sat beside him flattening the twenty or so long strands of hair across the large bald spot on the top-mid his head, (the rest of his hair look like a black, bushy halo) something he only does when he's nervous.
His, Dr Fate's, conscience floated between the two men, (Kent's sight and hearing) mid-conversation.
"I sure he'll...I mean, you didn't have a choice. The Baasteds... I knew they was nuthin but trouble."
"Course I had a choice. But... this is the least I could do for Tommy. He told me he was my godson one time when we were drinking...told me he couldn't be too public wi'that sentiment cuz we are who we are. Ain' that right, Brucey?...(he nudged Sally will a piercing sideward look) you're going to tell the old man that he's my godson if he asks, and anybody else...understand?...you better tell yourself that too!"
"I liked Wayne too...but, Carmine...you know the dead ain' gonna hold nothin against a livin n' breathing fellow such as you...I mean...why didn't you..."
"Let the old woman keep'um?" to this Sally did not reply.
"So she'd have two ah' my kids to look after? Ey, Sal?" Sal took a gulp of the regret, after which it seemed as though he had downed his tongue in that swallow.
He kept his silence.
"Look...Sally, I..."
At that very moment, a dream met a dream.
The fantasies of two Dr. Fates among the many had met at an entanglement. What hitherto was a seamless involuntary concoction of a new reality among the many isolated spreading waves of creation, two waves had met, now, due consequences will follow.
At that moment,
Kent Nelson flinched in his sleep as a bullet, one as large as the '75 Eldorado...
BOOM!!!*
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..... had pierced the exosphere. Its cold chrome skin ripened into a shade of neon-green as it pierced the stratosphere.
The ship plummeted with unimaginable speed. With the ship's gyro module at war with the physics of here and now, the stabilizers snapped awake with a hum. The ship had already hastily mapped the terrain of final impact and was ready for an otherwise violent and deadly landing.
Scraping past the soft earth, turning it, ripping it bare along its linear locus from impact to halt, the ship had finally fulfilled its purpose. With a sizzle, it lay hissing in that corn field.
Within a moment,
several men stood by it, all dazed (all in hazmat suits), all anticipating the outcome, but amazed that it had turned up...All but one.
"Well?"
"Radiation levels amiable, Mr Luthor... sir."
"Good, it was getting a bit warmer than my liking..." The man call Luthor said, after which he had discarded his bulky mask and gloves on the mound of dirt bordering the linear vein cut by the ship's landing trail.
"Proceed with extraction," he commanded his companions.
He was just about to march up to the cabin he had spent the evening in trying to convince its inhabitants, the owners of here lands, to allow his use of said property for a period of twenty-four hours (from 18:00, when they had finally agreed, to tomorrow's 18:00).
He wanted to thank them.
He wanted to give them a larger sum than that he had promised.
Before he had departed from the quickly set up perimeter, Lex Luthor took another long look at the ship, now once again chrome skinned...almost completely bare if not for one curious detail etched on it's surface.
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To be continued... *** Note :This is a fanfiction based on BATMAN created by Bob Kane and other characters owned by DC comics.
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