Chapter Text
Superman - Day One
“You’ve lost your powers?”
Batman’s steady voice echoed through the cavernous Batcave, the sound bouncing off the cold stone walls. The question startled poor Alfred, who nearly dropped a tray laden with tea and freshly baked biscuits. The faint clatter of porcelain was the only sound that followed.
Superman cringed. The truth still felt too raw, and hearing it said out loud made it all the more real. He took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the floor, and nodded.
Batman stared at him, unblinking, waiting for him to elaborate. The silence stretched, heavy and unyielding. Alfred, ever the considerate butler, set the tray down with practised grace. The aroma of Earl Grey and warm biscuits wafted through the air, a welcome distraction from the terse atmosphere. He began pouring tea into two cups with practised ease, the faint clink of the teapot breaking the stillness. He handed one cup to Superman and left Batman’s on the table. Alfred knew better than to hand it directly to him, Batman wasn’t one for distractions.
“Do you know what caused it?” Alfred asked, his tone kind and measured. He placed a reassuring hand on Superman’s shoulder.
Superman hesitated, his fingers tightening around the teacup. He didn’t want to relive it. He wanted to wake up in his bed in Metropolis and laugh this off as a bad dream. But this wasn’t a dream. For the first time in his life, Clark Kent was mortal. He took a sip of tea, the bitter flavour keeping his emotions at bay.
“The short version?” he began, his voice hoarse and tired. “The usual. Fate-of-the-world type of final battle. I uncovered a new power...a Solar Flare of some kind. Used it to overpower Ulysses, and then… this happened.”
“That wasn’t very bright,” Batman replied, deadpan.
Superman blinked, caught off guard. Then, despite himself, he chuckled. “Oh, it was. Bright as the sun. Until it wasn’t. And now I’m like this.” He gestured to himself, his movements sluggish. “No super strength, no flight, no heat vision… none of it.”
“You’re mortal,” Batman said, his tone as flat as ever. A simple statement of fact that hit Superman harder than he expected. On the one hand, he appreciated Batman’s bluntness, especially now, when sugarcoating would only make things worse. On the other, the truth made his feel exposed and weak.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” Superman admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He buried his face in his hands, the weight of everything finally catching up to him.
The adrenaline from the battle was fading, and with it came the sharp, unrelenting pain. Batman’s eyes flicked to Superman’s trembling hands, and a faint crease formed on his brow. “We’ll need to run some tests,” he said, already turning to his computer. His fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up Superman’s file and cross-referencing every resource at his disposal. The glow of the screen illuminated his face, masking the fact that his mind was clearly racing through endless possibilities.
“Master Bruce,” Alfred interjected, his voice firm but polite. “Perhaps we should tend to Superman’s injuries before treating him like a science experiment?” His sharp eyes had caught the subtle wince Superman tried to hide.
Superman exhaled shakily, exhaustion hitting him like a freight train. With his powers, sleep had always been optional, a luxury he enjoyed. But now, his body was screaming for rest. He finally allowed himself to take stock of his injuries: dried blood crusted on his chest, his ribs ached with every breath, his knuckles were raw and bloody, and his head began to throb with a relentless rhythm.
“Alfred’s right,” Batman said, his voice softer than before. “We’ll deal with the tests later. For now, let’s get you patched up.”
Superman tried to nod but found that his vision beginning to blur. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice slurring slightly. He tried to stand, but his legs gave out again beneath him.
“Easy, Master Kent,” Alfred said, catching him with surprising strength for a man his age. “Let’s get you to the med bay.” Alfred helped him up and caught Batman’s gaze, perplexed and narrowed at the Batcomputer screen. The preliminary data results had traced a faint anomaly in Superman’s vitals. His mouth tightened into a straight line.
“Great idea, Alfred,” Superman mumbled, his words barely audible. It was the last thing he managed to say before the world tilted and everything went black.