Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [136]

The first to step into the room was Queen Maeve.

“Bruce, are you okay?”

She was genuinely concerned about Bruce’s state of mind; he seemed… off.

Approaching him, she asked, “You look like you’re under a lot of pressure.”

“How could I be, Maeve?”

Bruce responded with a clear and innocent smile. “As long as I get to see you every day, no amount of stress can stick around.”

Kathoom: What?

What did he just hear?

Was Bruce… flirting with Queen Maeve?

Suddenly, a realization struck Kathoom like a bolt of lightning.

I let my guard down.

Bruce’s alternate personality—let’s call him “Prime Bruce”—was essentially a more amplified version of Bruce Wayne himself.

He had all of Bruce’s strengths, but dialed up.

A more indomitable will. Sharper strategies. And a more flexible moral code.

But he also had Bruce’s weaknesses, made even more extreme.

More obsessive. More violent. And… more flirtatious.

It was well-known that Bruce Wayne grew into a notorious playboy.

Prime Bruce, on the other hand, skipped the growing-up part—he was already a full-fledged charmer.

The thought had barely crossed Kathoom’s mind before another realization struck him: something wasn’t right.

Even if Prime Bruce was flirtatious, he wouldn’t waste time on such things now, not at such a critical moment. They were on the brink of a confrontation with Homelander. Surely, he wouldn’t lose sight of the bigger picture?

There could only be one explanation.

Having been suppressed earlier by Kathoom and the younger Bruce acting together, Prime Bruce, though outwardly cooperative, must still harbor some resentment.

If Bruce Wayne could be petty, then Prime Bruce could be downright devious.

His current behavior? A calculated move to dig a hole for Bruce to fall into later.

He didn’t mind getting a little closer to Queen Maeve or Starlight, creating the impression that something might happen.

Then he’d leave Bruce to deal with the fallout.

“You’re one cunning bastard, Prime Bruce,” Kathoom muttered telepathically. “When Bruce gets back, he’s not going to let you off the hook.”

“That’s a problem for future me.”

Prime Bruce grinned. “And besides, it’s not like I’d actually do anything. You’re here to keep me in check, aren’t you?”

“At least you know that much.”

Kathoom shook his head. He wasn’t about to let Prime Bruce run wild and sabotage Bruce’s life.

After all, Bruce was only thirteen—a kid.

But regardless of Prime Bruce’s antics, Queen Maeve’s reaction to his earlier words was undeniable.

She stood there for a moment, stunned, before breaking into a laugh.

“You little rascal, stop trying to act like a grown-up.”

Though she teased him, her mood was visibly lifted.

“What do you need me to do next?”

Her attention shifted to the black armor lying on the ground. Its unusual design immediately caught her eye.

“Maeve, just place your hand on the bat symbol on the chest of the suit,” Prime Bruce instructed.

The red bat symbol on the armor, jagged and menacing, resembled a demonic bat spreading its wings.

Maeve recalled Bruce mentioning that the armor had been summoned from another dimension, powered by dark magic.

Did he summon it from hell or some kind of demonic realm? she wondered.

Despite her unease, Maeve followed his instructions.

The moment she placed her hand on the suit, she felt it—an unmistakable sensation, as if the armor was alive.

It drew a portion of her strength, channeling it into the crimson bat symbol.

The black armor glowed brighter, its ominous red light intensifying.

An indescribable energy seemed to flow into the armor’s gauntlets.

Queen Maeve had just enhanced the suit.

“That’s enough.”

Prime Bruce smiled. “Thank you, Maeve. You’ve been a great help.”

Maeve wasted no time pulling her hand back.

Though she hadn’t lost much energy, the sensation had been unnerving.

If she’d kept going, who knows what might have happened?

“Is that all?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s it,” Prime Bruce replied, his tone light. “Now, Maeve, could you call in the next person?”

Maeve nodded, but before leaving, she offered him some advice:

“Bruce, don’t take all the weight onto your own shoulders. Even if you fail in the end—”

“I won’t fail.”

Prime Bruce’s voice brimmed with unshakable conviction. “I don’t know how to lose. I came here to win.”

“Fine!”

Maeve chuckled, shaking her head in defeat. “If you’re that determined, I’ll believe in you.”

“And let me promise you something.”

“When we defeat Homelander, if you’re interested in learning a thing or two about being an adult, come find me.”

She winked playfully. “I’ll teach you everything.”

Prime Bruce quickly turned his head away, his face betraying a rare hint of bashfulness.

Seeing the boy’s flustered reaction, Maeve laughed softly and left the room.

“I don’t have a future,” Prime Bruce muttered under his breath. “Those lessons… you can save them for Bruce.”

Not long after, Starlight entered the room.

“Bruce, what were you talking about with Maeve just now?” she asked, curiosity evident in her expression. “She looked like she couldn’t stop smiling.”

“Nothing important.”

Prime Bruce shook his head. “There’s no time to waste. Starlight, please place your hand on the bat symbol.”

Starlight did as instructed, experiencing the same strange, unsettling sensation Maeve had felt.

Though she didn’t lose any energy, the cold, penetrating aura left her deeply uncomfortable.

This time, her power flowed into the torso of the suit, causing red lightning to flicker across its surface.

Starlight had imbued the armor with electromagnetic energy.

“That’s enough.”

At Prime Bruce’s word, Starlight withdrew her hand.

“Bruce, are you sure you don’t want me to fight alongside you?”

She made her stance clear. “Even if we lose, even if we die—I’m not afraid. A hero doesn’t run from battle.”

“You’re already fighting alongside me.”

Prime Bruce locked eyes with her. “As long as I’m wearing this suit, you’ll always be with me.”

Whatever charm he was using, it was working. Starlight, like Maeve before her, found herself momentarily entranced by his words.

When she snapped out of it, she playfully smacked him on the head.

“Where do you learn this stuff?” she scolded. “Don’t do it again!”

Still, she couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re really picking up bad habits here. I remember when you first joined the Seven—you weren’t like this at all!”

Starlight left the lab, still smiling.

At that moment, Kathoom spoke up.

“Isn’t this enough?” he asked. “You’ve caused Bruce enough trouble as it is.”

Prime Bruce waved off Kathoom’s concern with a dismissive shake of his head.

“Kathoom, tell me—what if I tried this with A-Train or The Deep?”

“Don’t even think about it!”

Kathoom flapped his wings furiously, cutting him off with a stern warning. “That kind of nonsense is completely out of the question!”

Having successfully stopped Prime Bruce’s train of thought, Kathoom muttered to himself:

Bruce, you owe me big for this one.

If it weren’t for him keeping a close eye, who knows what kind of chaos Prime Bruce might cause while wearing Bruce’s face?

The door to the lab slid open, and this time, The Deep stepped in.

Prime Bruce’s expression was stone-cold as he gave a direct command. “Put your hand on the suit.”

“Sure thing!”

The Deep nodded eagerly, following orders without hesitation.

As his energy was absorbed, it concentrated around the waist of the armor. This detail piqued Prime Bruce’s curiosity.

Is it because of his lungs?

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but the ability to command the ocean and swim at incredible speeds had now been added to the suit’s repertoire.

“That’s enough,” he said.

The Deep heaved a sigh of relief and immediately shuffled closer to Prime Bruce.

“Bruce, do you really think we can win this?” he asked, his tone ingratiating. “I mean, I’m doing my part here. So, when we beat Homelander… about that video—”

“I’ll delete it,” Prime Bruce assured him.

“Really? That’s fantastic!” The Deep’s face lit up with joy, and he looked ready to heap praise on Bruce.

Then Prime Bruce added, “As for the copy Starlight has? I can’t say.”

Bruce had long since backed up the incriminating footage and handed a copy to Starlight.

The Deep’s expression crumbled, as if struck by lightning.

“Maybe you could talk to her?” he pleaded desperately. “Come on, we’re teammates—”

“Enough.”

Prime Bruce’s sharp glare stopped him cold.

“Don’t insult me by pretending there’s some noble ‘camaraderie’ between us. What we have is a purely transactional relationship.”

“And if you don’t leave this instant, I’ll make sure this secret of yours feeds me for life!”

The Deep fled the lab without another word.

Finally, A-Train entered. Unlike the others, he didn’t try to bargain or stir up any drama. Quietly and obediently, he offered his strength.

A-Train’s power enhanced the suit’s legs, imbuing it with superhuman speed.

With that, the anti-Homelander armor was complete.

Prime Bruce donned the suit.

Four metals, four superhuman powers—all woven together into one masterpiece.

The black suit clung to his form, its contours emphasizing steely muscles. The red bat emblem on the chest looked like a demonic creature spreading its wings, glowing with a menacing light.

The helmet’s eye slits lit up with a burning crimson glow.

The final touch was a black cape gifted by Dumbledore himself.

Hellbat.

The Hellbat was born.

“Homelander…”

Prime Bruce raised his head, his gaze fixed on a distant speck in the sky. “I’m ready. Prepare to die.”

—

Far above, Homelander suddenly felt a pang of unease.

It crept into his mind like an unwelcome guest, though he couldn’t pinpoint its source.

But the sensation was short-lived. Like a tidal wave, madness surged over him, drowning any remaining sense of caution.

He threw his head back and laughed maniacally.

—

Inside Homelander’s mind.

Bruce watched as this version of Homelander, whom he nicknamed “Robin,” effortlessly dispatched everyone in the lab.

Yet, notably, he didn’t kill anyone. He was holding back.

“I’m surprised,” Bruce said, patting Homelander’s shoulder. “You still have some kind of moral boundary left. Impressive.”

“Good job. You’re more useful than I expected.”

This personality was certainly worthy of replacing the dominant one.

Homelander scratched the back of his head, looking bashful.

“This was my first fight,” he admitted. “I’m just glad you’re satisfied.”

He glanced at Bruce and asked innocently, “So, where are we headed now? The world is so big—where do we even start looking for Mom?”

“It’s my mom,” Bruce corrected, arching a brow. “The way you said that, it’s like you think she’s your mom too.”

Homelander’s expression turned downcast.

“I’ve never met my mom,” he confessed. “I really want to. I guess I slipped up because… well, I wish she was mine.”

Seeing the sorrow etched on his face, Bruce—cold and calculating as he was—felt a flicker of empathy.

Kathoom chimed in telepathically.

“Homelander’s mother doesn’t exist in the way he thinks,” he explained. “He’s a lab experiment. The woman who gave birth to him was nothing more than a surrogate—there’s no blood relation.”

“And don’t forget, when Homelander was born, he tore his way out of her body. Not just her—everyone in the delivery room, doctors and nurses included, were killed by his uncontrollable heat vision.”

In short, Homelander’s life had been a tragedy from the very start.

From the moment he entered the world, he was stained with blood, burdened with guilt.

“A pitiful creature,” Bruce murmured, unsure how to process the grim reality.

He believed Homelander hadn’t intended for such carnage, but intent didn’t change the facts.

“Even God would have trouble judging actions like that,” Bruce said, shaking his head. “I’ll deal with all this later—after I’ve defeated the real Homelander.”

For now, his priority was locating Homelander’s dominant personality.

“Robin, let me ask you something.”

Bruce’s tone turned serious.

“Back in the lab, was there anything you wanted to do so badly it became an obsession?”

An obsession?

Homelander thought for a moment, then hesitated.

“There is something,” he admitted, “but you have to promise not to laugh at me.”

“I won’t laugh,” Bruce assured him. “Go on.”

“I’ve always wanted to climb to the top of the tallest building in the city,” Homelander confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I want to stand there… and howl at the moon.”

—

T/N: uhhh the alter is named Prime Bruce because Prime means like of the best possible quality; excellent. yuh uhh welll toodles

This is a fan translation of 蝙蝠侠的猫头鹰教父 by 巴巴罗萨光年. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!