Title: The Eleventh Plague
Characters: Batman, Cassandra
Prompt: #26, Obsession
Word Count: About two hundred words.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
A/N: Takes off after Robin #150. Given its origins, I trust you won't expect a reasonable fic.
Cain died first, killed by a pistol shot in an oil field.
Slade's death was more spectacular, but the scale of the hit, he believes, was a practical choice rather than a statement. If Cassandra's League used a twenty kiloton tactical nuke to take out a man, it was merely because that man was Slade, and nuking his immediate vicinity must have seemed an appropriate measure. On purely hypothetical grounds, Bruce tends to agree with the implicit tactical evaluation.
Superman - Superman is still alive. But Jonathan Kent isn't, and the way of his death, as well as the sequels it left in Martha Kent... Clark Kent's existence is very much in doubt, these days. As is Luthor's, unless the beheaded corpse thrown from his executive suite in the LexCorp Towers was another clone or chronal alternate.
It has been a bad week all around, with the world reeling from deaths both public and hidden, and with the JLA's information broker paralyzed by the grief of James Gordon's death.
He understands the pattern. That's what he does, and he's the best there is.
The knowledge feels like ashes in his mind. Cassandra is going after the fathers.
Alfred's corpse is upstairs in the Manor, ready for the wake.
Batman waits, planning. She will come alone.