Chapter Text
"I'm not usually the one called to family meetings. What's the issue at hand?" Bruce didn't even go for his chair, simply swept his eyes over a flock of horrified gazes. "Everyone's here." He looked again, counted heads, searched for any hidden injuries. "So anything beyond that can be fixed. If one of you is in-"
"I told you he's in on it. They're working together." Duke was the first to interrupt. "I think he's one of them."
"You don't say that to their face!" Tim elbowed Duke.
"What is it rude?"
"Plus I thinks it's just they can't see him, far more plausible than all the adults being swapped out without us noticing."
"Do I have to remind you all again that Barbra, Jason and I are adults?" Dick was trying to reign in the bickering that Bruce was having a hard time following.
"The brain isn't finished developing until twenty five, so lets not put labels." Bruce's children would be children until state and science forced him to admit otherwise and likely a good decade past that. "Now can we circle back to this invisible force I may or may not be working with?"
"We're the one's asking the questions here, not Bruce." Stephanie, team Duke by the sounds of it, stood from the couch and prodded Bruce in the chest.
"Not Bruce? OK, let's break this down. What makes you think I'm not me? Have I been acting out of character lately?"
"For one? This whole look." Dick joined the brainstorming session. "Our Bruce is a little less public mess than this. Not much." He shrugged. "But a little." Bruce forgot Dick was the resident fashionista.
"I was working on the batmobile's undercarriage. I do own clothing other than suits." Yes Bruce was a bit greasy, a bit unkempt, jeans and a tshirt wasn't an often look, but not cause to assume he was a swapped out replacement.
"That's not what I'm talking about and you-"
"Then why haven't you stopped him huh? Explain that Not Bruce!" Jason shot to his feet.
"Who? I don't know what you're talking about."
"Out of the loop? Sounds suspiciously not Bruce." Jason stopped just shy of shouted eureka but then he stroked his chin confused. "Though that I can see your last nerve starting to pulse in your neck and that is a . . . Our Bruce move. Too close to call, this guy is good."
"A poor man's copy of Batman is still a viable asset, I say we brief him." Damian had been peering out the window. "Quickly before it shows its face again."
"Thank you?" Bruce took the backhanded compliment. "Now will someone please tell me what the threat is?"
"We're calling him ScareClark." Dick stated proudly, the name had his idea written all over it.
"I'm sorry what?" Bruce looked around the room for cameras, assuming punking had come back into vouge.
"Evil Clark." Barbra had made the most concise statement of the last ten minutes, well it started concise and then got confusing. "Well not evil like . . . Other evil Clarks?" She turned for group consensus and got nods from all but Damian.
"He is biding his time till he kills us all, just as Father originally predicted before being corrupted into the sweaty mess that stands before us."
"Hmm." Bruce tried to translate what he just heard. "So is Clark also wearing a tshirt? Did he forget to return a library book? Has he stated what semi evil universe he comes from?" Bruce asked as he pulled out his phone to text Clark. *You're officially evil step mother status. Come over and prove you're not evil? Bring coffee?*
"Quiet." Cassandra finally spoke. "ScareClark is quiet." She stated sadly. "I don't like it."
"Ok, what else is ScareClark?" Bruce started to take this a bit more seriously. Clark could be a lot of things, quiet was saved for special . . . Maybe even scary occasions.
"Uh, helpful but in a smart as a roomba brought to life sort of way?" Jason had not stopped stroking his chin thoughtfully.
"Yeah he's just . . . You know there." Dick agreed. "Damian saw him first at school. Brought him lunch kind of."
"He brought me loose vegetables in a bag."
"I want facts, tell me exactly what happened, no more analogies." Bruce's patience was whittling down.
-8 A.M-
"Jon?"
"I know, a pop quiz on the inquisition? No one expects the-"
"Why is your father dressed like a homeless clown out on the schools front lawn?"
"Huh?" Jon looked, then that carefree kryptonian blood in him must've surged, he laughed. "Nice one Dame."
"Nice?" Damian turned back to the lawn, there he was, black painted nose, straw hat, overalls, some flannel shirt and what appeared to be hay coming out his collar. "No seriously what is he-" From behind Clark's back he pulled a brown paper bag, pointed at it, then at Damian smiling wide. "You're pretending you don't see that?"
"Damian there's nothing out there. Now shut up I need to focus."
"Your father is-" Damian glanced back, the bag was there, the alien gone.
Damian stood, walked up to their history teacher Mr. Thorburn and calmly explained his situation. "This pop quiz has caused a psychotic break in me, this, of all things. I need to leave."
"Take a hall pass, the nurse will call your father." Mister Thorburn was somewhat used to Bruce Wayne's sons just leaving. He'd lost the will to combat against it years ago.
Damian rushed to where the alien had last been seen. There ominously was a brown paper bad, his name on it. He gave it a kick, waiting for some gas to pour out or a timer to start ticking. Instead out rolled baby carrots and grape tomatoes. "I have gone insane."
-Family meeting-
"So Jonathan didn't see him either?" Bruce put a hand to the back of Damian's head. He wondered if his son's mind had played a trick on him and with his conviction convinced the others into seeing Kryptonians that weren't there.
"Chum is it possible that you are-"
"Don't chum me! I saw what I saw! We all did! Tell him Todd! You saw him next."
"Right! So I was taking out twenty, thirty goons, cardio you know? Good start to any day." Jason cracked his elbow in a way it likely shouldn't.
"Are we really gloating right now?" Dick sighed.
"I've got a mouth, you all got ears, now seems like a good time. Now shhhh we'll get to your humble boring story later."
"Whatever."
"So in the fray I start seein it."
"Clark?" Bruce didn't want to rush Jason, he honestly loved listening to his children gloat but if there was some second Clark, or Bruce's working theory there was something wrong with their Clark, he needed the facts spelled out sooner rather than later. *Clark?* It wasn't like him not to respond to a text.
"At first just, hay, then that stupid hat Damian was on about. I thought it was crane, was worried I was hit, cause I couldn't keep eyes on him. Went for my antidote-"
"Smart."
"But I took my eyes off my back."
"Less smart. Jason you're always exposed, always. Your push at all costs is admirable but your own vitals are-"
"Heavy fire! I should be Swiss cheese!" Bruce winced as Jason spared no mental image in his portrait painting. "But not a scratch."
"Clark sheilded you?" Bruce asked for facts instead of flourish. *Clark?* he texted again. He got a reply this time, not an illuminating one, just a pumpkin emoji.
"Don't rush me! I turn, goons lookin at me all pale faced, their guns? Goo, melted, but no kryptonian. That is till I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn, boom! ScareClark! I coined the name by the way."
"How dare you." Dick hissed.
"Focus! Did he do anything? Say anything?" Bruce was trying to figure out if this Clark had a known agenda.
"He . . . Uh-" Jason scratched behind his head. "Gave me a hug." The young man shrugged. "Typical Clark, let the humans do all the heavy lifting, do something flashy, steal our thunder then . . . I mean it was a nice hug." He shrugged again. "Then he left. Still thought I'd been drugged till I found this on the warehouse floor. Hay" Jason had dug out a pocket full of dried grass. "I called Tim. He thought I was crazy."
"I still think you're crazy."
"Oh yeah? Tell not Bruce about your double vision!"
"Tim?" Bruce was now dialing Clark.