Obligatory Disclaimer : I do not own anything (except maybe OC characters) all characters, places, worlds, universes…etc mentioned here belong to their respective owners and/or companies.

This is purely a work of fiction. Not meant to offend or incite, but to entertain and (maybe) inspire.

PREVAIL

“This is his damage report in no specific order; Lacerated organs, a shattered rib cage, perforated lungs, concussions, deep dermal lacerations, arc burns, torn ligaments, a severed liver, a multi-column vertebral fracture—”

“I get it, he’s hurt bad.” Kate interrupted her close friend who doubled as a doctor, to stare down at the battered carbon copy of a younger Bruce Wayne wrapped up in casts, covered in stitches and hooked up to machines and IV bags.

“No, no you don’t get it. He’s sustained immense physical trauma, he currently has more broken than unbroken bones. This boy that looks human both inside and out, is in no way one because no human, no human being would last a minute with such extensive damage.” Daniella pointed at the teenager. She needed to convey that his survival and subsequent recovery was the very definition of a miracle, in all her years as a prolific medical practitioner not once had she witnessed such. “And can you believe that he’s actively recovering?”

“Yeah, he’s a survivor.” Kate smiled meaningfully.

“He’s a medical marvel.” Daniella shot, tugging a lock of golden brown hair behind her ear, “Where’d you even find him? At the bottom of a blender?”

“I can’t say.”

“You won’t say.”

“Whatever.” Kate chuckled.

“You bitch. Just tell me why he looks like Gotham’s favorite billionaire playboy.” Daniella queried.

“That, I honestly have no idea of.” Kate shook her head, unable to discern the teen’s true identity apart from his uncanny resemblance to Bruce.

Maybe he was a clone. She reasoned, one clearly created to replace Batman. One who managed to make a brutal escape from whatever facility he’d been cultured in, only to land himself in Gotham. If that was the case, how would it explain the trident and magic lasso on him?

Was this time travel? She posed to herself, perhaps the younger Bruce was one from the past. Except he was clearly too young to be Batman. Bruce adopted the Batman mantle well into his twenties and the boy on the bed was barely pushing eighteen.

“I’ve got other patients to attend to. Keep an eye on Bruce Wayne’s illegitimate son, he might just reward us for it.” Danielle joked, leaving Kate alone in the private ward.

Kate listened to the steady beeps of the heart monitor, tapping her finger to the lazy click of the respirator pumping oxygenated air into the youth’s lungs.

What happened to him? She asked herself repeatedly. He sustained a variety of severe mortal injuries as though he’d been thrown into the business end of a belt grinder, or perhaps more fittingly in a war with gods. Taking on a whole pantheon by his lonesome self.

The mythical weapons make sense then. She openly scoffed at her imaginative conjecture.

But what if that was the case. Doubts wormed into her sound logic.

Step.

He’s here. She noticed, folding her arms at the very light footstep she heard only because he wanted her to. Out of the room’s shadowed corner he emerged, draped in a night black cloak and a pervading solemn atmosphere.

She wondered how long he’d been there for. He walked to her side, standing a head taller than her. The eyepieces on his frowning cowl glinted ghost white as he silently observed the teen.

“Hmm” He stepped past the border, “Hey!” regardless of Kate’s silent protest. He stepped back having retrieved a hair strand from the teen whose bruised face he spent more time than necessary gazing at.

“Your swift response saved his life.” He said. Kate took a moment to realize that he was speaking to her, considering he never spared her a visible glance, opting to instead gaze intently at the hair strand and the one it came from.

“Does it match?” She asked, unmoved by the praise.

“Yes, a 100%” He offered a slight nod.

“So he’s…?”

“Me.” He concluded. The young doppelganger’s genetic structure was too stable to be that of a clone’s. The tachyon readings off him were slightly pronounced but nowhere near enough to valuate him as a time traveler. For all intents and purposes, this was him—younger, battered, bruised.

“Where is he from?” If anyone had answers, it had to be the man by her side.

“A parallel earth.” He responded. That was the most viable answer he could give with the amount of data collected. “Where are his belongings?” He finally faced her.

“Safe.” Kate kept her reply terse, leveling a challenging stare at the man beside her. She wasn’t about to hand any of the teen’s belongings to anyone without the explicit permission of said person. She’d attribute the decision to a desire to maintain the unconscious teen’s privacy but perhaps it had to do with finding a win where she could get it; or possibly because she felt accountable to the youth who fell into her embrace, as she had been the one to find and rescue him first.

“Good.” Said the dark knight. He preferred to have them in his charge but Kate could be stubborn and obstinate, and this was hardly the place to argue his point even if it was the right one in his perspective.

“He needs to be moved.” He spoke, frowning from behind his cowl as he noticed changes in the youth’s bio-feed.

“I don’t think so.”

“That was not a suggestion.” He was already moving to the teen’s bed.

“Hey!” Kate began, “What makes you—!”

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

She paused, witnessing the boy convulse and trash on the bed. She rushed to his side, she tried restraining him by the shoulders but failed from the powerful and erratic movements. She shuddered when the IV bag burst from the struggle, soaking her hair and jacket wet.

“Alfred send the batwing!” Batman ordered, swiftly disconnecting the howling devices from his younger self’s body. Using his greater strength he managed to restrain and carry the boy whose casts broke from the tussle, causing warm blood to seep out of the freshly stitched wounds.

Kate dashed to the only other exit—the window, snapping it open. Allowing Batman to make a running leap out of it with the still spasming teen in his arm. She winced at the sight of him gliding to a visibly painful stop into the metal interior of the remotely piloted aircraft hovering silently a few feet away.

“Go!” She heard him roar. As the Batwing disappeared into the clouds.

Daniella burst in with a team of nurses not a moment later. “Where is he?” She balked at the empty bed, the bloodstained sheets and disarrayed machines strewed about the floor. She ran to her soaked friend’s side “Where is he?”

“He fought me and jumped out.” Kate lied, she hated how easily those came when it had to do with things pertaining to the other side of her life.

“This is the fourth floor!” Daniella ran to the window, preparing herself for the gruesome sight awaiting her, only to find nothing but wind and fresh blood on the windowpane. She slowly turned to gaze at her friend, ‘wtf is going on’ she asked with her eyes. Gaining a plastic smile from said person in turn.

*.*.*.*.*

I sat at the table, sunlight peeked through the cream colored shutters and into the house, filling it with warm and natural splendor. I eagerly presented my bowl to her, the woman who had a smile that could make the sun blush. She rubbed my hair and kissed my head, poured me cereal and milk and told me to enjoy.

I was happy to see her, to be eating with her, I missed her so much. “Thanks mommy” I said with a childish voice, what can I say? I’m five. I ravenously dig into the breakfast, lost in my joy my elbows touch the table.

I pause and quickly pull them away, resuming eating as though it hadn’t happened, hoping that she hadn’t seen it. She did.

Clang. The spoon fell to the floor when she placed her hand on my head. It wasn’t warm, it wasn’t warm at all.

“I told you to behave.” She whispers, hand still on my head.

“Sorry mommy I—” Slap. The stinging clap on my cheek shuts me up. The chair trembles beneath me, I am not afraid, I am terrified. With slender, toned arms she pulled me by the hair, strands falling as she drew harder. I say ow and receive a fist to the eye.

I am on the floor, holding my burning face and stinging eye. “Behave!” She screams, planting her foot to my side. I slide across the tiled floor and bang into the cupboard. Her mug falls, scalding coffee pours on my leg. I worry more about the now broken mug than my feet.

My mouth opens in apology, nothing comes out but saliva and a silent scream. Her heel is rooted in my tummy. I gasp for air, a slipper to the head leaves my senses sprawled out on the floor.

I beg and scream and cry. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. Please stop. Please. She picks me up, her tears warm my face. I shudder in her embrace. “I’m so sorry baby. I’m sorry, you know mommy loves you.” My voice finds me, I wail in her cold hands. She looks down at me with warm brown eyes, the sunlight to her golden hair gives her the image of an angel with a halo.

God, I really wanna see my real mommy. I miss her so much. The childish me prays.

Hahah.

I start up with a smile. Through bleary eyelids I stare at the blurry white light in the blurry white ceiling and nothing else. The dream, the memories, they remind me of a past and make me think of Martha and Thomas. Thomas and Martha made me think about Barry, Barry made me think about revenge and revenge made me think about you.

Why are you still here? Wasn’t my suffering enough? If you let me go now, I swear I’ll leave revenge behind. I just want a break, I’m tired and exhausted. I survived things no one was meant to; can’t you just leave me be?

“How are you feeling?” Says a familiar voice, familiar because it sounds just like mine, older yet.

“Alive. Thanks for that.” I say to him, keeping my improving vision on the white light. “Why am I restrained?” I speak calmly, unsurprised by the lack of emotion in my hoarse tone.

“You’ve had multiple seizures, each time breaking open your wounds.”

“Oh.” Maybe from the nightmares, but probably from a slight rejection of the miracle formula in my system. Since I only felt dull aches, I was either healing nicely or under powerful painkillers. The former was likeliest. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“It wasn’t anything we couldn’t handle.” He loosened the straps on my limbs and held out a warm mug of coffee. I stared at it for a moment with images flashing through my mind and shook my head, offering a silent thank you as he took it back. I stretched, hearing satisfying pops and cracks through my bandaged body.

“How long have I been under for?”

“Two weeks.”

“Do you know where you are?” He sipped the fragrant coffee from his mug.

“Heaven obviously.” I smiled, he smiled back. “Do you have my belongings?”

“It’s…with a friend.”

“I’d like them back please. Today, if possible.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“I have very important things there, so, please.”

“I know.”

I found a good seating spot on the overly comfortable bed. “Well go ahead and ask me your questions, adult Bruce Wayne.” He scoffed at the title.

“Where are you from?” He sat on a chair by the ornate desk.

“Has Barry told you about the Flashpoint?” I asked.

He nodded. “An unstable universe created when he traveled through time to save his mother. Resulting in disastrous consequences.”

“Has he told you of me?”

“To a point.”

“I met our parents, you know, the reason we turned to this in the first place.” ‘This’ being Batman. “Thawne killed them, he did it before my very own eyes. I don’t have to tell you how that feels, watching them die twice.” I paused for a breath and continued. “So, I killed Thawne, I made sure he suffered before he died. And, Barry,” I laughed. “Barry had his reasons for leaving me behind to die, I can’t tell you if they were good ones.”

“Hmm.” Bruce sighed and gazed up at the ceiling.

I’d just confessed to murder, but with a good reason for it—at least to me. Here’s the interesting part; was it murder if that universe didn’t exist anymore? If that was the case wouldn’t Barry Allen, said cause of that universe’s death be a mass murderer then?

“You don’t have to worry about having me here, I’ll leave as soon as I get back on my feet.”

“You can stay for as long as you want to.”

“I’d rather not impose.”

“This is your home too.”

“Except it’s not, it’s yours not mine.”

“You’re much safer here, I can protect you.” He implored.

“I don’t think I’m the one that needs protecting.” Staying anywhere close to Bruce Wayne was a recipe for disaster. I planned to live quietly, to let myself rest so I could plot my escape and maybe eventual revenge in peace.

But I know you’ll never let me have that. You bastards derive your pleasure from my pain, why would you ever give me peace?

“Master Wayne, you have an urgent call.” Alfred came in, presenting Bruce with a phone.

He nodded at me. “Get some rest, we’ll talk more about this later.”

“Master Bruce, you’re up!” Alfred approached, a gentle smile on his face as he observed my features. “I sincerely apologize for not responding to your call sooner.” He bowed.

I offered the old man a hug, I needed one as much as he did. “Al, I missed you too.” He was one of my favorites after all.

“The sentiment is mutual.” He laughed, joy bursting through his voice. Perhaps I brought up memories of a simpler time for him.

“Alfred, I'm home.” Said a male voice.

“Ah, it would seem Master Dick has arrived.” Said the aged butler who fixed his bow tie and suit, giving a reluctant smile as he left to attend to the lord cock. Haha, I kill me.

I was left alone with my thoughts. My mind was a dangerous place to be in at such a time, I would try sleeping but I didn’t want to see her face. I’d feel much safer having my weapons and items on me, I felt oddly naked and vulnerable without them.

I sectioned the room into easily defendable areas, finding that I could fashion a shield from the desk and ropes from the sheets. The golden frame of the painting above the headrest could be dismantled into a bludgeoning tool. There weren’t any easy exits except for the door, so I had to keep an eye out for anyone entering it.

I took a breath and calmed my mind. I wasn’t in a war zone, I knew I had no need to create threats where there weren’t any. But I couldn’t help it, the last person I trusted to have my back left me for dead. The one saying they’re going to protect me was notorious for exploiting the weakness of those he called friends and using it against them.

Who, who in this damned world could I trust if not myself alone? I cupped my burning head and retreated under silk covers.

I am just tired. So, so very tired.

*.*.*.*.*.*