Dark Knight/Man of Steel

Disclaimer: I own nothing (unfortunately); all rights and characters in this fic belong to DC Comics and other respective owners and creators. I gain no profit from this; it's purely for fun. I only own my OC characters.

Note: Happy Birthday to my girlfriend, L.J-1983:)

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Prologue

Smallville. Thirteen years ago…

The landscape seemed to glow red as the sun slowly rose over the horizon. Peaceful, beautiful and quiet; with only the sounds of crickets chirping to fill the ears of the teenager that sat amidst the grass. He lowered his hand and felt the grass brush against his hand in the early morning wind. Despite the ability to hear anything within a hundred-mile radius if he wanted to, Clark Kent preferred these moments…the silent moments.

He would savour these moments when he would have complete control. Even though he has gained nearly full control of his unusual abilities over the years, he liked just being…human. Not having to worry about his heat vision going off if he had a crush on a girl at school, not having to worry about out running the school bus if he was late, and not having to be fearful of accidentally leaping over a tall building in a single bound. Relaxing on the Kent Farm without a care in the world. Because these moments don't normally last, he enjoys them while he can.

''Clark, honey?'' He heard his mother, Martha Kent, called out. ''Your father needs some help.''

''Okay,'' Clark shouted back. Lifting himself back onto his feet, he quickly walked over to the house. The very second his foot reached the front porch, the family dog raced over to greet the teen. Clark rubbed the companion's head affectionately before walking through the door and instantly hearing the aching groans of his father, Jonathan Kent.

''Clark, little help here…'' He grunted out with rushed breaths as he struggled to keep the couch from landing full-force on his feet. Clark rushed over, and with a single hand, grabbed the side of the couch and kept it up with ease. Finally free of the heavy lifting, Jonathan let out a sigh of relief. ''Thanks, son.''

Clark looked at his father, slightly amused. ''What were you doing?''

''Your mother's ring is missing, and I thought I saw it under there…'' He inhaled sharply before exhaling quickly and then grinning a little. ''Martha I'm afraid I'm getting out of shape.''

Martha giggled lightly, as she leant over to kiss her husband on the cheek. ''Thank you for looking dear, but it's no good breaking your back over. We'll find it.''

A small grin was plastered on Clark's face as he gently lowered the couch back onto the floor. A part of him did worry that Jonathan was over-working himself over too many little things, but that was the type of person his father was, to treat every problem just as important as the last if it helps others.

His head turned until he caught sight of small TV screen towards the corner of the living room. It was on some news channel talking about Gotham city; it had to be big news since all kinds of crime activity and gang-related incidents would often go unnoticed by the authorities, Gotham was that kind of city…crime was the norm.

At the moment, the news focused on a female reporter who stood in front of a damaged looking street. The road seemed to be torn up, as paramedics and emergency workers were busy moving what appeared to be the wreckage of a train crash.

The reporter was focused on as she began to speak to the camera. ''Details are still sketchy, but our reports are telling us that this was a part of some kind of chemical attack on Gotham City. While the gas that affected citizens with schizophrenic symptoms has disappeared, the man behind the creation of the chemical, Doctor Jonathan Crane, is still missing. Many eyewitnesses claim to have seen the mysterious masked vigilante, Batman, defending citizens from escaped convicts before disappearing from the scene…''

''Turn it off.'' Jonathan Kent's voice spoke over the report. Clark didn't have time to reply, as Jonathan walked over to the TV before switching it off.

Clark however, was still fascinated by the report, or more like one aspect of the report in particular. ''That's the third time in a week I've heard about this Batman. Everyone is talking about him.''

''Yeah well, I'm afraid he's doing more harm than good,'' Jonathan spoke coldly.

Clark's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his father's bitterness. ''Dad you've said yourself how bad Gotham has got over the years; I've heard rumours from school about that city. Maybe Batman is trying to help.''

''Maybe for now Clark! But there's always long-term consequences for actions like the ones this Batman seems to be taking. How do we know he won't turn? Try to bring a new level of crime to that city.''

The frustration in Clark was growing with every word coming out of his father's mouth. ''Dad I think you're being unfair and judgmental towards him…''

''No I'm being cautious. Where did Batman come from? Who is giving him his equipment? Why is he doing this? Clark, you have to learn that sometimes people are not what they appear to be…''

''Like me?'' Clark couldn't hold it in anymore. The room fell silent, as Jonathan was now speechless, unable to argue as Clark continued. ''Someone wants to stand up and make a difference and you think they're some kind of criminal for doing so, despite everything you've taught me. What if I wanted to help people like he did? Would you be cautious of me?'' Without another word, Clark stormed out of the house.

Jonathan remained where he stood for a brief moment, deep in thought about what to say to Clark. He did come across as harsh and should have explained his feelings better. He slowly walked over to the door, just as Martha was also about to walk out to comfort her son.

The Kent's held each other close as they walked out the front door to talk with Clark, who was slumped forward on one of the fences, his elbows digging into the jagged tops, but he never felt it either way. He could hear his parents coming over to him, but he chooses to keep his gaze looking out over the horizon, the rising sunlight giving him some form of comfort.

Martha's arms wrapped softly around Clark's neck, and Jonathan patted his son on the back. ''Clark,'' He spoke calmly. ''I'm sorry if it sounded like I was having a go at you in there, I wasn't.''

Clark fiddled with his fingers for a few seconds before responding. ''You've always taught me to stand up for what's right and to help people. Why is it that when someone did you…''

Jonathan held his hand up to stop Clark's question. ''It's not that someone is doing something. If Batman can help that city, that's fine…but it's the way he's going about it that I don't agree with.''

''What do you mean?'' Clark asked.

''It seems to me, that what this Batman wants to do is make people afraid of him. Thinking he can drive evil back into shadows…that's won't work. Fear's nothing more than a weapon. Just as much as Batman can use it, those criminals he fights against will use it back at him and the people he defends. When you defended his tactics…'' Jonathan struggled to find words for a moment.

Knowing that he was having trouble trying to finish his statement, Martha continued for him. ''We don't want you to use fear as a way of making yourself look like a hero…we don't want people to fear you, Clark.''

''Then…if I were to…what should I do?''

Jonathan responded. ''Look I'm not saying you should reveal your powers to the world, but I'm just saying that…in my eyes…the really save people you have to give them hope. Dreams.''

''Dreams?'' Clark scoffed and looked away. ''I'm not a kid anymore dad, dreams aren't real.''

''Of course, they're real! Just as much as hope is! It's dreams that inspire people to greatness. Let's us know the kind of person we want to be, and to find ways to make the world a better place. Never forget that Clark. The dreams you wish to come true are a sign of the kind of man you want to be, to inspire hope into a world that isn't perfect but has good people in it. Dreams are real Clark, and they're a good thing to have.''

The words repeated in Clark's mind over and over, taken Jonathan's claim seriously and given it a lot of thought. He was so deep in thought, he almost failed to notice his parents walk back into the house. They knew he would need some time to himself to gather his thoughts, and relax.

Once again, everything was silent around the Kent Farm. But this time, Clark had something to think about. He still had admiration for whoever Batman was, for taking a stand to protect the people of a corrupt city like Gotham. Clark often thought about the soldiers in war, or common police officers and firefighters, real men and women who put their lives on the line to help others. Whereas Clark had his powers, he knew everyone else didn't have his gift. Clark could withstand any fire on Earth and take a bullet without hesitation.

If Batman really was just a man, then Clark had to commend him…even if his tactics of fear weren't to Clark's taste.

Hope…Clark liked the sound of that word.

Undisclosed Location. Present Day…

Hundreds of TV screens crammed for attention around the dark room. Each one playing a different news channel, yet all had a dire topic of discussion that was going on with the world. As the man who stood in the centre of the dark room tried to watch each and every event that was going on, with some focusing on civil wars, terrorist attacks, the riots…every major event that seemed to be happening at this moment was on at least one of the TV screens.

However, there was one in particular that caught the man's attention. The very story he was looking for, coverage of the alien attack over Metropolis that happened four months ago, and talk of the Man of Steel…Superman.

With a mere thought and a flick of his wrist, the man's eyes shown dark green before all the TV screens were switched off except for the coverage of Metropolis.

Although the news was mute, the man wasn't so much focused on what was being said, but instead waiting in anticipation of any footage that was recovered that caught a glimpse of Superman. The moment Superman was spotted on screen, the man's eyes glowed a deathly green once more as the footage froze to keep it on Superman.

The man stepped forward, out of the shadows as the light on the TV screen revealed his attire. He wore a dark black jacket and jeans. His hair dyed dark purple. A matchstick sticking out of his mouth like a cigarette, and finally, beneath his jacket covering the entire front of his upper body was a tattoo of the Union Jack.

He took the matchstick from his mouth and a smirk grew on his face. ''All right, lads and lasses…'' Manchester Black spoke in a deep, thick English accent. ''Here comes the thunder!''

To Be Continued…

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