Fic: Gotham City Remix (4/7)
Fic: Gotham City Remix (4/7)
Summary: Gorden Walker has taken Sam Hostage. To save him, Dean and Chloe go into the heart of darkness: Gotham City.
Author: pen37
Beta: Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural/DCU
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: Pg for language and minor violence.
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #61 winter. The table is here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
“So let me get this straight, Harve.”
Detective Bullock cringed at the nickname. “What?”
“Defenstration is a common problem here in Gotham?”
“Def-what?”
“Throwing someone off a building.”
“Oh, yeah. Happens all the time.”
“Just checking,” Hendrickson went back to typing a report with a shake of his head.
At first, Special Agent Hendrickson had been bristly and a general pain in the ass. But after Bullock asked the agent a few general questions about the type of strange activity that was typical for his case files, Hendrickson went all quiet-like.
And just when he started to get nervous, Hendrickson did the unthinkable. He pulled up a spare desk and started filing reports.
“What are you doing?” he’d asked Hendrickson.
“I’m ordering a pizza. What does it look like I’m doing?” Hendrickson shrugged his shoulders. “As near as I can tell, this mess is standing between me and Dean Winchester. If I help clear out the mess, then I find Winchester.”
“That’s . . . You can’t . . . Can you do that?”
“It’s a breach in protocol,” Hendrickson said. “But as near as I can tell, protocol ended when I crossed the bridge into this messed up little town. So? I help you - you help me.”
Now, as Bullock stared at him in askance, he noted that Hendrickson was over two thirds of the way through his own stack of reports. And Detective Montoya was looking at him with a jealous, hungry look that meant that she wanted that kind of help. Bullock shot her a shit-eating grin, and she nodded to the breakroom.
“Hey, Agent Mulder,” he turned to Hendrickson.
“Yeah, Scully?”
Bullock shook his head. “No way, in any universe, would I get confused with a red-headed woman.”
“That’s the truth, Harve. What do you want?”
“I’m going to get coffee. You want one?”
“Black. No sugar.”
“Gotcha.”
Montoya was kicking the vending machine whenever Bullock walked in. “Yeah?”
The drinks machine finally spit out her sissy-assed skinny, iced frappachino latte. She gave him a sour look. “Who said you could rope the fed into being your personal butt-monkey?”
“I never asked. He just offered to help.”
“What’s he want?”
“Dean Winchester.”
“Who?”
“Some kid. Suspect in a bank robbery and some serial killing out in the Midwest.”
“Serial killing and bank robbery?”
“I know. Totally different MO’s.”
“You think it could be two different somethings? Like Clayface? Different folks who can change their appearance?”
“I haven’t seen any case file.” He shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, it happened out in the Midwest, where they got wheat and cornfields and shit. I’d say it’s their problem.”
“So why is Agent Butt-Monkey out there, then?”
“He says that the kid turned himself in here.”
“Turned himself in here? Who would be that stupid?”
“Dunno, but the fed wants this kid badly. He’s trying to free up my time so that I’ll help him.”
“Really?” She grinned. “Any chance I can get in on the action?”
“No way,” Bullock shook his head. “Go find your own trained fed.”
“Come on, Harve. You owe me for taking over the Diego case.”
“We traded that case,” Bullock said. “You gave me the Vanderhausen serial killing for that one.”
“And then they red-balled the Diego case.”
“They did, didn’t they?” Bullock shook his head. He’d been lucky to unload that one on Montoya. “Okay, Montoya. As soon as I’m done with Agent Eager Beaver, I’ll send him your way. In the meantime, see what you can find out about this Winchester kid.”
She nodded.
Bullock quickly grabbed up two coffees, and took one out to Agent Hendrickson. “Hey Mulder, you ever hear the one about there being no “I” in team?
***
If hell existed on earth, it was probably contained in the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Although the multi-story monstrosity had been rebuilt and destroyed many times over the years, it stubbornly clung to its sinister, twisted atmosphere. As they pulled through the gates, Chloe found herself looking for the some kind of sign. Abandon hope, ye who enter here.
Chloe wondered if it had ever been haunted. It certainly felt more sinister than any abandoned shack or haunted house that Sam and Dean had ever taken her to check out. Its history was just as bleak. The original Arkham Asylum had been founded in the late 1900's by Amadeus Arkham, and named after his mentally-unstable mother.
Arkham ran the facility out of his family home, originally. When a serial killer, Martin “Mad Dog” Hawkins took his wife and daughter, Arkham himself went functionally insane. Over the next six months, he tortured Hawkins under the guise of treating him, until Arkham ultimately killed Hawkins via electroshock therapy.
As they walked up the steps to the sinister-looking facility, Chloe seriously doubted that the present incarnation was haunted. Most ghosts would be afraid of the real, living horrors that the building contained. She pulled the leather coat tighter around her as Batman led her down a nightmarish road of twisting hallways. She tried desperately to shut out the sounds of madness all around her.
At last, they came to a cell that - to Chloe at least - looked like it had somewhat less security than the others. A guard came forward to open the door, and held it for Chloe.
Her hand slid to the .45 that rested securely under her arm, and she stepped warily into the room. In the dim lighting, she could see a halo of blonde hair. Vacant eyes stared at her out of a face both alien and as familiar as a look in the mirror.
Chloe gasped at the sight of her clone.
“You know who this is,” Batman said.
“She was going by the name Laney Sullivan - but you knew that.”
“I just wanted to make sure that there weren't more than one of them.” Batman said.
Chloe shook her head, and traced a shallow scar on her double's cheek. “Dean told me that he gave her this scar in South Dakota. What is she doing here in Gotham?”
“She was found out on the wharf three nights ago,” Batman said. “She'd been picked up by a local street gang and passed around.”
Chloe shivered. “Is . . . is that why she seems catatonic . . . or is it . . . hereditary?”
“Neither,” he shook his head. “I can't figure it out - but she's been given a cat scan. Her brain is extremely underdeveloped. It's unlikely that she was ever capable of higher brain function.”
“What?” Chloe's eyes narrowed behind her mask. “That's impossible. She was completely . . . functioning. I saw her.”
“I've read the report,” Batman nodded. “So the question is . . . how?”
“Were there traces of meteor dust in her DNA?” Chloe asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No,” Batman said. “But - curiously enough, there was sulfur.”
“Sulfur?” Chloe's blood ran cold. She'd heard stories from Sam and Dean about demon viruses and people who vanish without a trace. “I . . . I think I might know what happened.”
“What?”
“I think she was possessed.”
“Based on sulfur?” he guessed.
She nodded. “Demons leave behind traces of sulfur wherever they go. The question is . . . why posses a clone of me? I mean, to what end?”
“I should think that would be fairly obvious,” Batman said.
Chloe gave him a patient look - before remembering that he probably couldn't see it because of the mask, and rolling her eyes.
“I realize that you think my brain is operating on me Tarzan you Jane scales by comparison to yours, but I do know how to spell condescending. Could you please be less with the smug, more with the exposition?”
“From everything you've told me about demons, they're like parasites. They jump into humans and take over.”
“They call their hosts meat sacks,” Chloe nodded her agreement.
“Meat sacks with family, friends, people who miss them, and folks who would notice if they're acting strangely. Plus, a number of people with the interest and know-how to pull a demon out of their host body.”
“Sounds about right,” Chloe nodded.
“And the point of your side project has been to get us all ready for such time that creatures like this try to seize a place in the world.”
“Nearly right. I was getting ready for vampires and werewolves. Since then I've learned that the demon element may be preparing for all-out war.”
Batman paused. His jaw set in a hard line. “Really? That puts a new spin on things.”
“And you just got more ominous. I hate it when you do that.”
“Sorry,” he didn't sound contrite at all. “But imagine if those demons had access to an unlimited supply of no-strings-attached metahuman hosts via Lex's cloning experiment. All of the convenience of people, with none of the drawbacks.”
“Oh God,” Chloe placed a hand over her mouth. “And all this time Sam and Dean have been focusing on keeping their leader contained.”
“It's possible that she wasn't their leader,” Batman said. “Maybe she was some kind of distraction.”
“Or maybe she actually was in charge. And maybe she only let them think they had her contained so that they weren't paying attention to what the other demons were doing?” Chloe guessed. “Dean told me that they've been concentrating their efforts on hunting the demon army down one at a time.”
“So the question now is . . . where is the demon formerly known as Laney Sullivan?”
“Like Prince? I suppose we could call her The Demon, but I think that name was already taken.” Chloe stared morosely down at the still, silent husk of a human. “Maybe we should keep an eye on Lex. Get someone close enough to say Christo and see if he reacts.”
“That's logical,” Batman said. “If I were a demon who wanted to create a bunch of clones for a demon army, I would take possession of the man in charge. I'll get my people on it. I can probably have an intern in Luthorcorp within the week.”
“In the meantime, we need to kneecap Luthorcorp so that they can't keep making clones,” Chloe said.
“Which means finding Lex's cloning facilities,” Batman nodded.
“This is going to be like 33.1 all over,” Chloe shook her head. “Us jumping from global hot-spot to hot-spot with no clue if we're hitting the right place.”
Batman's jaw set in a hard line. “How do we keep them from being possessed - if we do find them?”
“Charms like this are the easiest,” she held out her arm so that he could see her wrist. “There are more sophisticated methods. My contact in South Dakota is the expert.”
“We'll consult him,” Batman nodded. He paused in thought. “I'm . . . sorry that I didn't take your warnings about this kind of thing more seriously.”
Chloe shrugged. “With all the wackiness that goes on here in Gotham with just the normal freaks? Who can blame you?” It was the closest thing to a truce that they were going to get.
“I think I'd better get to the actual Watchtower and call a meeting.”
Chloe nodded. As she turned to leave, her attention was drawn back to her clone. It was eerie, how still she was. Just like Moira, last time that Chloe had seen her. Just like Chloe might have been, had her meteor powers developed differently. “B? Can we not leave her here? Even if she doesn't have a brain - she's some small part of me. And this place . . .”
He nodded. “I'll see to it.”
“Thanks,” she whispered.
Summary: Gorden Walker has taken Sam Hostage. To save him, Dean and Chloe go into the heart of darkness: Gotham City.
Author: pen37
Beta: Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural/DCU
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: Pg for language and minor violence.
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #61 winter. The table is here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
“So let me get this straight, Harve.”
Detective Bullock cringed at the nickname. “What?”
“Defenstration is a common problem here in Gotham?”
“Def-what?”
“Throwing someone off a building.”
“Oh, yeah. Happens all the time.”
“Just checking,” Hendrickson went back to typing a report with a shake of his head.
At first, Special Agent Hendrickson had been bristly and a general pain in the ass. But after Bullock asked the agent a few general questions about the type of strange activity that was typical for his case files, Hendrickson went all quiet-like.
And just when he started to get nervous, Hendrickson did the unthinkable. He pulled up a spare desk and started filing reports.
“What are you doing?” he’d asked Hendrickson.
“I’m ordering a pizza. What does it look like I’m doing?” Hendrickson shrugged his shoulders. “As near as I can tell, this mess is standing between me and Dean Winchester. If I help clear out the mess, then I find Winchester.”
“That’s . . . You can’t . . . Can you do that?”
“It’s a breach in protocol,” Hendrickson said. “But as near as I can tell, protocol ended when I crossed the bridge into this messed up little town. So? I help you - you help me.”
Now, as Bullock stared at him in askance, he noted that Hendrickson was over two thirds of the way through his own stack of reports. And Detective Montoya was looking at him with a jealous, hungry look that meant that she wanted that kind of help. Bullock shot her a shit-eating grin, and she nodded to the breakroom.
“Hey, Agent Mulder,” he turned to Hendrickson.
“Yeah, Scully?”
Bullock shook his head. “No way, in any universe, would I get confused with a red-headed woman.”
“That’s the truth, Harve. What do you want?”
“I’m going to get coffee. You want one?”
“Black. No sugar.”
“Gotcha.”
Montoya was kicking the vending machine whenever Bullock walked in. “Yeah?”
The drinks machine finally spit out her sissy-assed skinny, iced frappachino latte. She gave him a sour look. “Who said you could rope the fed into being your personal butt-monkey?”
“I never asked. He just offered to help.”
“What’s he want?”
“Dean Winchester.”
“Who?”
“Some kid. Suspect in a bank robbery and some serial killing out in the Midwest.”
“Serial killing and bank robbery?”
“I know. Totally different MO’s.”
“You think it could be two different somethings? Like Clayface? Different folks who can change their appearance?”
“I haven’t seen any case file.” He shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, it happened out in the Midwest, where they got wheat and cornfields and shit. I’d say it’s their problem.”
“So why is Agent Butt-Monkey out there, then?”
“He says that the kid turned himself in here.”
“Turned himself in here? Who would be that stupid?”
“Dunno, but the fed wants this kid badly. He’s trying to free up my time so that I’ll help him.”
“Really?” She grinned. “Any chance I can get in on the action?”
“No way,” Bullock shook his head. “Go find your own trained fed.”
“Come on, Harve. You owe me for taking over the Diego case.”
“We traded that case,” Bullock said. “You gave me the Vanderhausen serial killing for that one.”
“And then they red-balled the Diego case.”
“They did, didn’t they?” Bullock shook his head. He’d been lucky to unload that one on Montoya. “Okay, Montoya. As soon as I’m done with Agent Eager Beaver, I’ll send him your way. In the meantime, see what you can find out about this Winchester kid.”
She nodded.
Bullock quickly grabbed up two coffees, and took one out to Agent Hendrickson. “Hey Mulder, you ever hear the one about there being no “I” in team?
***
If hell existed on earth, it was probably contained in the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Although the multi-story monstrosity had been rebuilt and destroyed many times over the years, it stubbornly clung to its sinister, twisted atmosphere. As they pulled through the gates, Chloe found herself looking for the some kind of sign. Abandon hope, ye who enter here.
Chloe wondered if it had ever been haunted. It certainly felt more sinister than any abandoned shack or haunted house that Sam and Dean had ever taken her to check out. Its history was just as bleak. The original Arkham Asylum had been founded in the late 1900's by Amadeus Arkham, and named after his mentally-unstable mother.
Arkham ran the facility out of his family home, originally. When a serial killer, Martin “Mad Dog” Hawkins took his wife and daughter, Arkham himself went functionally insane. Over the next six months, he tortured Hawkins under the guise of treating him, until Arkham ultimately killed Hawkins via electroshock therapy.
As they walked up the steps to the sinister-looking facility, Chloe seriously doubted that the present incarnation was haunted. Most ghosts would be afraid of the real, living horrors that the building contained. She pulled the leather coat tighter around her as Batman led her down a nightmarish road of twisting hallways. She tried desperately to shut out the sounds of madness all around her.
At last, they came to a cell that - to Chloe at least - looked like it had somewhat less security than the others. A guard came forward to open the door, and held it for Chloe.
Her hand slid to the .45 that rested securely under her arm, and she stepped warily into the room. In the dim lighting, she could see a halo of blonde hair. Vacant eyes stared at her out of a face both alien and as familiar as a look in the mirror.
Chloe gasped at the sight of her clone.
“You know who this is,” Batman said.
“She was going by the name Laney Sullivan - but you knew that.”
“I just wanted to make sure that there weren't more than one of them.” Batman said.
Chloe shook her head, and traced a shallow scar on her double's cheek. “Dean told me that he gave her this scar in South Dakota. What is she doing here in Gotham?”
“She was found out on the wharf three nights ago,” Batman said. “She'd been picked up by a local street gang and passed around.”
Chloe shivered. “Is . . . is that why she seems catatonic . . . or is it . . . hereditary?”
“Neither,” he shook his head. “I can't figure it out - but she's been given a cat scan. Her brain is extremely underdeveloped. It's unlikely that she was ever capable of higher brain function.”
“What?” Chloe's eyes narrowed behind her mask. “That's impossible. She was completely . . . functioning. I saw her.”
“I've read the report,” Batman nodded. “So the question is . . . how?”
“Were there traces of meteor dust in her DNA?” Chloe asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No,” Batman said. “But - curiously enough, there was sulfur.”
“Sulfur?” Chloe's blood ran cold. She'd heard stories from Sam and Dean about demon viruses and people who vanish without a trace. “I . . . I think I might know what happened.”
“What?”
“I think she was possessed.”
“Based on sulfur?” he guessed.
She nodded. “Demons leave behind traces of sulfur wherever they go. The question is . . . why posses a clone of me? I mean, to what end?”
“I should think that would be fairly obvious,” Batman said.
Chloe gave him a patient look - before remembering that he probably couldn't see it because of the mask, and rolling her eyes.
“I realize that you think my brain is operating on me Tarzan you Jane scales by comparison to yours, but I do know how to spell condescending. Could you please be less with the smug, more with the exposition?”
“From everything you've told me about demons, they're like parasites. They jump into humans and take over.”
“They call their hosts meat sacks,” Chloe nodded her agreement.
“Meat sacks with family, friends, people who miss them, and folks who would notice if they're acting strangely. Plus, a number of people with the interest and know-how to pull a demon out of their host body.”
“Sounds about right,” Chloe nodded.
“And the point of your side project has been to get us all ready for such time that creatures like this try to seize a place in the world.”
“Nearly right. I was getting ready for vampires and werewolves. Since then I've learned that the demon element may be preparing for all-out war.”
Batman paused. His jaw set in a hard line. “Really? That puts a new spin on things.”
“And you just got more ominous. I hate it when you do that.”
“Sorry,” he didn't sound contrite at all. “But imagine if those demons had access to an unlimited supply of no-strings-attached metahuman hosts via Lex's cloning experiment. All of the convenience of people, with none of the drawbacks.”
“Oh God,” Chloe placed a hand over her mouth. “And all this time Sam and Dean have been focusing on keeping their leader contained.”
“It's possible that she wasn't their leader,” Batman said. “Maybe she was some kind of distraction.”
“Or maybe she actually was in charge. And maybe she only let them think they had her contained so that they weren't paying attention to what the other demons were doing?” Chloe guessed. “Dean told me that they've been concentrating their efforts on hunting the demon army down one at a time.”
“So the question now is . . . where is the demon formerly known as Laney Sullivan?”
“Like Prince? I suppose we could call her The Demon, but I think that name was already taken.” Chloe stared morosely down at the still, silent husk of a human. “Maybe we should keep an eye on Lex. Get someone close enough to say Christo and see if he reacts.”
“That's logical,” Batman said. “If I were a demon who wanted to create a bunch of clones for a demon army, I would take possession of the man in charge. I'll get my people on it. I can probably have an intern in Luthorcorp within the week.”
“In the meantime, we need to kneecap Luthorcorp so that they can't keep making clones,” Chloe said.
“Which means finding Lex's cloning facilities,” Batman nodded.
“This is going to be like 33.1 all over,” Chloe shook her head. “Us jumping from global hot-spot to hot-spot with no clue if we're hitting the right place.”
Batman's jaw set in a hard line. “How do we keep them from being possessed - if we do find them?”
“Charms like this are the easiest,” she held out her arm so that he could see her wrist. “There are more sophisticated methods. My contact in South Dakota is the expert.”
“We'll consult him,” Batman nodded. He paused in thought. “I'm . . . sorry that I didn't take your warnings about this kind of thing more seriously.”
Chloe shrugged. “With all the wackiness that goes on here in Gotham with just the normal freaks? Who can blame you?” It was the closest thing to a truce that they were going to get.
“I think I'd better get to the actual Watchtower and call a meeting.”
Chloe nodded. As she turned to leave, her attention was drawn back to her clone. It was eerie, how still she was. Just like Moira, last time that Chloe had seen her. Just like Chloe might have been, had her meteor powers developed differently. “B? Can we not leave her here? Even if she doesn't have a brain - she's some small part of me. And this place . . .”
He nodded. “I'll see to it.”
“Thanks,” she whispered.