4. Batman
◎Ludwig: There really is a rat hole under my house!◎
Under the cover of night, Gotham is filled with violence and crime. Death plays out every moment in this city.
At this moment, a desperate criminal is darting through a narrow alley. He fears an unknown presence behind him and doesn’t dare to look back.
“No… please… help…” The man’s fear tries to burst out from his throat like his heart pounding, but even though he struggles to breathe normally, he doesn’t stop running.
Unfortunately, he’s not lucky. Gasping for breath, he runs into a dead end.
“No… no… no!” The man shakes his head in shock, but pressed by the situation, he doesn’t hesitate to try climbing the wall. However, just as he climbs up the wall, a pair of hands grabs him and pulls him onto a tall building.
In the empty alley, only the man’s screams and a single fallen shoe remain, proving someone had been there.
No one dares to peek out. Gotham’s people have long learned how to ward off evil and avoid trouble.
The unlucky man is pressed against the high wall, crying with snot and tears, begging endlessly for mercy.
“Please! Spare me! I won’t do it again!”
“Where is the Joker, Baskin?”
Batman stands like a wall, pressing the man firmly against the wall. His hoarse voice strikes each word like a hammer on the man’s heart.
“No… I don’t… sob… know…” The man sobs in despair, trembling all over, desperately clinging to the faint hope of survival.
But crying and begging are useless. Batman pulls out a batarang, the sharp blade hanging just above the man’s eyeball.
The man closes his eyes in terror, but the pressure on his eyelids breaks him completely. “I really don’t know! I really don’t know! I’m free!”
He’s telling the truth. He was indeed once hired by the Joker, but how could he possibly know the Joker’s location? That’s the Joker after all.
Batman may not have been able to tell if the man was lying, but he had no patience left to play cat-and-mouse with him.
Batman released his grip, letting the man fall from the high place, waiting in silence as the man fell to his death, caught between surprise and terror.
Without even looking back, Batman turned and left. He didn’t need to know the fate of these villains.
“Batman.” A man’s voice came from below—it was Cyborg, who had come seeking Batman’s help. Unfortunately, Cyborg arrived a little too late and could only see the edge of Batman’s cape as he turned away.
Cyborg sighed. He knew where to find Batman next.
With the help of his thrusters, Cyborg landed right in front of Batman.
“You do this every time,” Cyborg sighed. “Can’t you for once not throw someone off a tall building?”
“They fall on their own,” Batman replied halfheartedly. But both Cyborg and Batman knew this was just an excuse.
Batman liked to bring criminals here and let them fall from great heights.
Cyborg didn’t care about those criminals—they got what they deserved. Besides, he had promised Batman he wouldn’t interfere with Gotham’s affairs.
So…
“Alright, I’m not here to preach. I actually have a favor to ask,” Cyborg said sincerely, explaining his purpose.
“The tension between Atlantis and the Amazons is escalating. We must defeat them before they destroy the Earth. And right now, we’re missing an outstanding strategist.”
“We?” Batman raised an eyebrow suspiciously at the word.
“Yes, we. I’ve assembled a team, and now we just need you,” Cyborg said as he projected images of people behind him—countless heroes, famous and unknown, standing behind Cyborg as if showing Batman their resolve.
“…a ragtag bunch,” Batman sneered, his laughter revealing his opinion clearly.
“A friendly piece of advice: don’t put too much hope in this motley crew you have around you. They’ll only make things worse.”
“But if this keeps going, Gotham will be destroyed too!” Cyborg made one last effort, trying to call out to the retreating Batman, hoping to move him with the fate of Gotham.
Batman didn’t look back. He no longer cared about Gotham. Everything he once cherished had long been swallowed whole by Gotham’s darkness.
Cyborg watched Batman leave, feeling a bit disappointed because he knew most of the team would quit after Batman’s departure.
Most of them didn’t believe in themselves, they only believed they could have Batman lead them. After all, he was recognized as the brain among heroes, and with him around, their chances of success would be much higher.
But… who could force Batman? At least Cyborg knew he couldn’t.
Elsewhere, Barry followed the path from his memory to enter the Batcave beneath Wayne Manor.
The Batcave was exactly where he remembered it, but everything high-tech—the supercomputers and advanced gadgets—had disappeared, replaced by ordinary whiteboards, and even a machine for manually crafting Batarangs.
Barry was very puzzled. He couldn’t understand what had caused such a drastic change in Wayne Manor, just like he couldn’t understand why he had lost his super-speed.
At that moment, a shadow attacked from behind. Before Barry could react, he was knocked to the ground. Before he could figure out what was happening, he was lifted and slammed against the wall.
Only then did Barry see who attacked him—who else could it be but the Batcave’s owner, Batman.
Just as Batman’s fist was about to strike his eye, Barry shouted out Bruce’s name in desperation. Batman indeed paused at the name, his punch weakened, but he still held tightly onto Barry’s collar.
“Bruce?” Batman repeated the familiar name.
“Yes, I’m Barry. I used to be the Flash. We’re good friends. See, I even know your real name.” Barry tried to squeeze out more information from his mind to convince his suspicious old friend, but the answer Batman gave shocked him.
“Bruce is dead.”
“What?” Barry looked in surprise at the broken portrait of the three-person family behind Batman. At this moment, Barry guessed what had happened.
Bruce Wayne died in that alley. The one who survived was his father, Thomas Wayne.
“Oh… my God…” Barry wanted to say something more, but he didn’t know what to say. All his information had been overturned, and he didn’t even know how to comfort this grieving father.
Batman didn’t want to hear the blond kid’s excuses. He automatically placed the boy in the Joker’s camp—after all, in this world, besides himself, the only person who still remembered Bruce was Martha Wayne, the Joker’s wife, who, grieving for her son, had cut her own cheek.
Batman shook hands with Barry’s only harmless gesture, then twisted it backward sharply. The sound of bones breaking echoed through the empty Batcave, accompanied by Barry’s unbearable wails.
“Tell me! Who are you? If you don’t speak or if you lie, I’ll break every bone in your body!” Batman threatened in a low voice. Barry knew he wasn’t joking, so he swallowed his painful cries and tried to speak clearly despite the pain.
“My name is Barry Alley. I was struck by lightning and became the fastest man in this world.” Before Barry finished, Batman’s fist smashed into his face.
“You can’t even dodge one punch from me, and you dare claim to be the fastest man alive!” Batman roared. How could he believe such foolish words? Especially when Barry’s skills didn’t match his story at all.
Barry could only dodge and explain, “I lost my powers! No one in this world remembers the Flash! That’s why I came seeking your help!”
“What proof do you have?” Batman grabbed Barry, lifting him high as if about to break his spine. At this moment, a boy’s voice suddenly sounded in the Batcave.
“I can prove it for him.”
Batman looked toward the voice. When he saw the boy, he was stunned.
The child was about the same age Bruce was when he left, wrapped in a brown blanket, covered in dust, but his face was clean—just as clean as Thomas Wayne’s remembered face.
But the boy’s face lacked Thomas’s familiar smile. He looked at Thomas calmly, as if condemning him, yet also pleading.
Batman dropped Barry and stared incredulously at the boy before him. His reason told him this child wasn’t his Bruce, but his emotions insisted on the boy’s existence.
There was no other explanation—the child looked so much like Bruce, as if young Bruce himself had come back through time, standing there, disapprovingly watching his father.
When Batman lifted Barry, a flood of memories rushed into Barry’s mind, but the boy’s arrival left him no time to process them. Struggling to regain focus, he shouted desperately toward the boy, “Run! He’s not Bruce!”
Barry ran toward the boy, unable to watch Bruce’s child be destroyed by Batman’s hands. But it was too late—Batman was already standing before the boy.
The boy didn’t flee. He stared fiercely at Batman, his eyes free of fear or anger. His gaze was clear and pure like winter sunlight, piercing through Batman’s black mask and looking straight at the aged, mad Thomas beneath.
“I am Ludwig Wayne, the son of Bruce Wayne.”
Ludwig said this.
—
【Author’s Note】
In Flashpoint, the one pursued by the old man was Yoyo, but I really don’t remember that character, so…