Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
using
 paypal
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Is your email address still valid?

Copper Heroes

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking
Story

This story is No. 1 in the series "Chess". You may wish to read the series introduction first.

Summary: “…because sometimes… the truth isn’t good enough. Sometimes people deserve more. Sometimes people deserve… to have their faith… rewarded.” The Dark Knight is still a hero to those that matter. “And sometimes they deserve the truth... Batman." BtVS x-over.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
DC Universe > BatmanDrPepperFR1856,033067,43727 Feb 0928 Feb 09Yes

Chapter One

Disclaimer: The Dark Knight does not belong to me, nor does any character mentioned therein. Buffy: the Vampire Slayer does not belong to me, nor does any character mentioned therein. Copyright infringement is *not* intended.

A/N: If my information on the location of Belarus is incorrect, please excuse it as artistic license. It *is* somewhere in the area of Russia, though.

Summary: “…because sometimes… the truth isn’t good enough. Sometimes people deserve more. Sometimes people deserve… to have their faith… rewarded.” The Dark Knight is still a hero to those that matter – even accused of murder. “And sometimes they deserve the truth… Batman.” Buffy x-over, AU.

Copper Heroes

***

“Three White Knights, all in a row. Two of them hath known me; one is yet to show.”

One candle flickered out.

*

“Have you seen my badge?” he called.

“By your keys, Bobby!”

“Thanks!” he shouted, heading out the door.

Bobby Whitman was with the Gotham PD. He was a tall man, with a runner’s body; lithe, but muscled. He had dark hair and an easy-going nature, normally. He was also homosexual. Life wasn’t the best, but it was good enough; comfortable.

Comfortable was never made to last.

*

“And this, Mr. Wayne, is the new Head of the R&D department.”

“Isn’t she a little… young?” Bruce whispered.

“I have three degrees, Mister Wayne,” she said without turning around.

“And incredibly good hearing,” he joked.

“I guessed.” She turned and held out her hand. “Dr. Mercia Edgerton. Believe me, I get it all the time.”

“Bruce Wayne, and I don’t get much of anything going on around here.”

She laughed. “Now *that’s* a lie.”

“One of her degrees is in psychology,” Lucius told him.

“Ah. Then I suppose that I should learn to lie better,” he joked again.

Her smile faded into something… immeasurable.

“You’re no politician, Mister Wayne. I’ve met a few. Sometimes… just sometimes, Mister Wayne, people deserve the truth… even if it hurts.” She paused. “But that’s just me,” she added with a small smile. If he hadn’t heard her tone before, he never would have thought it false. Her eyes… there was something in them that he couldn’t describe. “Computers are fixed, boys! Anything you need me to work on in particular, sir?”

“No…. No, thank you; your work is… more than enough.”

*

“Is this really what you want to do with your life?” Sarah asked.

“Put away scum? Yes.”

Sarah sighed.

“All right. I can’t really stop you.” She knew defeat when she saw it.

*

Barbara Gordon nee Kean had been brutally murdered many years ago as the first wife of the enthusiastic young cop Jim Gordon. His second wife had been a good friend of Barbara’s; from college. It had taken several years and more bottles of liquor than he wanted to count to get them through the grief – and guilt for their attraction to each other. There would be no mistake; Jim had loved Barbara, and never would have cheated on her; she was the only woman he saw back then. Until years after her death, he had never looked to another… but she was there for him; she shared his grief.

They had named their daughter after Barbara, true, but why was he thinking of her now? There was no logical reason he should be.

“Not enough coffee.”

*

Child: Lynette, Amber (true surname unknown)
Foster Mother: Austin, Marie
Child Age: 6
Reason for Dismissal:
Foster mother arrested for drug possession, drug dealing and child pornography; allegations of child prostitution – charges dropped (mysteriously).

Foster Mother: Carter, Lila
Foster Father: Carter, William
Child Age: 7
Reason for Dismissal:
Child cold and unresponsive.

Foster Mother: Wentworth, Angela
Foster Father: Wentworth, Davis
Child Age: 7
Reason for Dismissal:
Child cold, unresponsive.

Foster Mother: Sullivan, Antonia
Child Age: 8
Reason for Dismissal:
Foster mother physically abusive to three of four children under care, all boys – biological son placed with father. Foster mother arrested for attempted murder on child in question for calling police.

Foster Father: Edgerton, Samuel
Child Age: 9
Conclusion: Child seems to be faring well; shy but responsive. Foster father has taken in 24 children total (not all at once, thankfully) to date and all children have come out better adjusted. Will sign recommendation for permanent placement.

There were plenty more names and faces in those files, and certainly much more information than that, but this was the bare bones of it; what it boiled down to; druggies, child hating scumbags, and idiots that couldn’t handle the baggage. Of course she was unresponsive; the child had been raped for God’s sakes! She’d seen things….

The name change was interesting. The child had requested it.

*

Xander Harris was running; he wasn’t quite sure where. Dawn had been… after Spike staked himself during Willow’s spell…. Well; that was it; she lost it. Giles was in fucking England, hiding away in some bottle somewhere no doubt, and it was left to him to get Tara and Dawnie out. Anya… she’d left straight after the funeral, running scared. He didn’t blame her for it, not really, because he’d always known on some level that she would leave someday. Slaying wasn’t for everyone; it wasn’t for Anya. Still. At the least. Opportune. FUCKING! TIME!

They needed magic. Concealment spells. Big time.

“Nikki? We need a place to crash. I’m desperate. Call me back.”


Click.

*

Melora Durriken had traveled with a gypsy troupe for many years. She was thirty-one, her “daughter”, Misha, twelve. Her mother had died in childbirth somewhere in India, when the troupe had traveled there, and her father – a strong, reliable man – died in Russia, near his homeland, Belarus. He hadn’t liked it there; had escaped as soon as he could; but Tas had wanted to see his father one last time.

Durriken meant “he who forecasts”, and Seeing had always been in their family line to some extent, but never had her visions been this strong before.

Something was happening. Something big.

***
Next Chapter
StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking