The Apprentice

Sound Sleeper

    Superman sits back on the air, kicking his legs up as he hovers several feet off the floor. The Batcave is as dark and still as the night, stars of LEDs dot the edges of platforms and cast light over the lake below. Thirty minutes ago, Clark barely dared to move, fearing that his disruption of this peaceful atmosphere would wake his sleeping friend. Now, with his arms crossed over his chest, he lets an impatient sigh break the quiet. Don't touch anything, Batman ordered.

     A glance to his left identifies Bruce lying on a cot he pulled up next to Alfred, his cowl pulled off to reveal a strained expression and tussled black hair. A check with Superman's enhanced hearing confirms the slow breathing of sleep. Clark smiles, and hums a country tune softly as he lets his gaze drift over the unchanging scenery.

    He can't help but softly sing, "Hey hey... alright...", noticing around him all of the same things as he has for the past half hour. The platform of oversized memorabilia entertains his gaze the longest— how did Batman get all those giant trinkets down here?— but there's not much more to look at from this vantage point. Superman clicks his tongue, tempted to use his x-ray vision to see more. He whispers to himself the next line, "It ain't a maybe, it's hopin', I'm wishin', I wanna...", as he goes over the moral complications in his head.

    It's rude to explore without a guide, but even if Clark does allow himself a tour, there wouldn't be much in this bunker in terms of entertainment. Weapons rooms, training rooms, storage rooms, and so on. Batman wouldn't happen to have a reading nook down here, would he?

    "We can pump it in the boulevard or kick it in the country..."

    Clark's singing stops, letting the remaining echo of his voice bounce faintly off the cavern walls. He finds himself extending his hearing all the way back to Metropolis, focusing on the crackle of a police radio station hundreds of kilometres away. They report on the street he crashed into being blocked off from traffic— Clark feels his body tense at the memory. People will be asking questions he can't answer, at least not honestly, for Robin's sake. Clark knows that saving the boy is the priority right now, he'll help fix the damage to the road later.

    The early morning traffic swells around the police report, the constant bustle of feet and rumble of engines he'd grown used to over the years. It makes his heart ache with nostalgia for quieter, simpler times. He lets his hearing travel further south, to his childhood home. The sounds of the city streets shift into chirping crickets in windswept fields, scurrying mice in leafy undergrowth, and the distant hoot of an owl. Clark relaxes, honing in on the magnet of calm and safety that the Kent household represents. At this hour, he hears the walls of his home creak and groan from the old pipes, muffling the steady breathing of his dreaming parents.

    Oh gosh.

    Abruptly remembering where he really is, Clark's face flushes red with embarrassment. He pulls his attention hundreds of kilometres back to his immediate surroundings, lightheaded from the auditory whiplash. Stepping out of his mid-air lounge onto the cold metal platform, he curses his carelessness with clenched fists. Bruce trusted him to keep watch, but for several minutes the man of steel has been deaf to anything nearby, completely letting his guard down. Lending a worried ear to the cave and the land around it, he reassures himself with the familiar sounds of safety as he paces back and forth on the platform. Water drips from the walls and ceiling of the cavern into the lake, peppering the silence with a faint melody. That is, until an unusually large splash ripples across the disturbed water. The hero cranes his neck, staring up in horror at the shadowy stalactites. A single pebble drops from the endless gloom, shattering at his feet. His eyes widen as guilt floods his chest. A few minutes distracted had been a few minutes too many.

    What's up there, dislodging the stones?

    Trying to keep the burdening regret out of his steady breathing, Superman floats up among the long sharp rocks. With a blink, his surroundings flare with bright orange and yellow blots. He recoils, twisting his head around to find himself completely surrounded by the heat signatures.

    "What the devil?" Superman gasps, floating carelessly backwards as his mind whirls with paranoid theories. He bumps into one of the hanging rock formations, sending shudders down the stone. One of the orange blots stretches out and flaps its wings impatiently. Superman gawks at it, taken aback, then completely deflates with a nervous chuckle. He shakes his head as he runs a calming hand through his hair.

    "Oh, of course, bats!" He realizes aloud, grinning at his foolishness. Flicking off his infrared vision with another blink, he can only just make out wriggling grey bodies in the heavy shadow. He wags a teasing finger at the little pranksters. "You gave me a scare, I'll tell you."

    The response comes in the form of a frustrated screech from one of the bats. The noise pierces through Superman's still-sensitive hearing, his eardrums pulsing from the pain.

    "Settle down now, I didn't mean you any harm." He explains gently, floating towards the threatened creature with an outstretched hand, but the screech is followed quickly by several more. Then, a cacophony of shrieks explodes around him.

    "Wait, I'm sorry!" The accidental perpetrator cries, but his apology is lost to the storm of angry bat wings beating against him. In a panic, his thoughts flash to his friend Bruce, trying to sleep for the first time in days. He begins to listen for Batman's breathing, but the thrashing wings around him boom like a powerful engine, the screeching sharp like tyres on a polished floor. The sensitivity of his hearing spirals out of control. Clark finds himself swinging his arms wildly around him to ward off his attackers, completely overwhelmed.

    In a final attempt to free himself, the hero drops from the air like a stone, his feet smacking back onto the platform. He gasps with relief, his mind clearing enough to restore the cap on his hearing. The bats don't pursue him, flying contemptuously to the other side of the cave instead. The final echo of their screams ebbs away as they disappear once again among the stalactites.

    "Okay... Note to self, don't go up there again." Superman croaks, mashing the air to stretch his jaw and make his sore ears pop. Massaging his temples, he comments to himself, "Those were the strangest sounding bats I've ever encountered. Almost like—"

    A car door slams shut on the platform directly below him, shocking him into silence. Any peace of mind left in Superman instantly shatters, and he staggers dazedly over to the edge.

    Four people climb out of a blue and white vehicle, looking around expectantly. A prickle of panic runs up Superman's spine. The attack from the bats must have drowned out the sounds of their entrance— It was the Titans, here almost half an hour earlier than expected.

    "How did they get here so fast?!" Clark hisses to himself, biting the nail of his thumb. He turns around with a flash of concern in his eyes, hoping to warn Bruce before he's spotted. With his cowl off, curled up next to his injured butler, Clark instantly knows that this is the last thing Bruce wants the Titans to see.

"Superman, hey, Superman!" A high pitched voice calls in greeting, and Clark stops in his tracks. Darn it, darn it, darn it, darn it—

    He turns around, willing his face to stretch into a smile.

    "Hello there, come on up!"