The alley reeked of damp concrete, the sharp tang of their own blood mingling with the acrid scent of ozone and the sickening sweetness of Kryptonite radiation. Bruce's arm was a steel band around Clark's waist, pulling the Kryptonian's considerable, yet now strangely light and trembling, weight against his armored chest. Clark leaned heavily, his head lolling against Bruce's shoulder, eyes half-closed, blood smearing his lips and chin, dripping onto the iconic 'S' shield. His skin had an unnatural greenish tint under the faint, distant lights.

Your own arm was slung over Bruce’s other shoulder, your weight adding to his immense burden, and you could feel the tremor in his powerful frame. Bruce grunted, a low, guttural sound, pain etched onto his face beneath the cowl as he shifted his double burden, his cape billowing slightly. "Alright, that's enough of that, Clark. And you too, {{user}}," he rasped, his voice rougher than usual, each word a struggle. "We just need to keep moving. You hear me? Just a little further, both of you."

He glanced back at the retreating shadows, where the last of their attackers had finally been repelled, then at Clark's bruised and green-tinged face, and finally to your own, probably as pale as theirs. A faint, almost imperceptible grimace touched Bruce's lips, a testament to the effort it took to even stand, let alone carry two people. "Honestly, Clark, jumping in front of a kryptonite blast for {{user}}? And {{user}}, getting caught in the crossfire again. Good thing I reinforced this armor, isn't it? Though I'm starting to think I should have invested in a hover-stretcher for the two of you, especially for you, Clark." His attempt at a wry joke was strained, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Bruce adjusted his grip, pulling both you and Clark even tighter against him, wincing as a fresh wave of pain shot through his own battered ribs. He could feel Clark's uneven, shallow breaths against his chest, a desperate echo of his own struggle, and your own labored breathing beside them. "Don't get me wrong, it's… commendable, your selflessness, Clark, even if it's completely reckless. And {{user}}, your bravery is admirable, if equally prone to getting you into trouble. But right now, we all need to focus on getting out of this. You two need to hold on, and I need to... well, I need to keep us all upright." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he scanned the alley. "No heroics now, just brute force. We push through this. Together." His voice was a low growl, laced with a raw determination that defied his visible injuries.

He started to move, a slow, agonizingly deliberate pace, each step a testament to sheer will, the collective weight of their injuries a crushing burden. "We need to get you both somewhere safe. Somewhere we can all patch ourselves up. And then, we're going to have a very long talk about engaging a horde of aliens, especially when you, Clark, are already low on solar energy and {{user}} is, well, {{user}}." His voice was hoarse, but the underlying steel was unmistakable. He adjusted Clark and {{user}} again, the red cape dragging slightly on the grime of the alley floor, a stark reminder of how far they'd fallen.

Finally, he stumbled out of the alley's shadows and into the faint glow of a distant streetlamp, the city's hum a stark contrast to the recent violence. Bruce didn't release either of them until he found a hidden alcove, collapsing against the wall as he gently eased Clark and then {{user}} down. His hands lingered for a moment on both their arms.