Bruce lay on the ground, clutching his stomach. It hurt—a lot—but it was manageable.
All he could think was, What’s wrong with this guy?
If the gun was empty, then why point it at his head in the first place?
Jason flicked up the fallen gun with his boot, caught it, and returned it to his holster. Then, pressing a hand to his red helmet, he removed it, revealing a young but scarred face.
“You may not know me, but you see these scars?” Jason sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “Every single one of them is your doing.”
Jason took slow, measured steps towards Bruce, each step intensifying the pressure on him.
The situation was getting more desperate by the second. Bruce’s mind raced through possible solutions.
He had gone over every spell in The Beginner’s Spellbook. The most harmful spell he could think of was the Severing Charm.
But even that wouldn’t pack enough punch.
What do I do…
Just then, clouds began to gather above them.
Jason pulled out a collapsible baton from his belt, snapping it open with a flick of his wrist, and the baton extended with a fierce whoosh through the air.
The Joker had used a crowbar to beat him senseless. Now, it was time for Bruce to feel the same pain.
He looked at the young face of the boy in front of him and hesitated.
Using a metal baton on a child… was that too much?
After a moment’s conflict, he closed the baton. A fist would do.
Bruce watched Jason’s internal struggle with both fascination and confusion, observing him alternate between rage and hesitation, between readiness and restraint.
When Jason’s face twisted with anger, Bruce could feel an undeniable sense of danger; he sensed that Jason truly wanted to kill him.
But when Jason hesitated, that deadly aura vanished in an instant.
This gave Bruce a critical insight.
The man in front of him likely had some kind of split personality. Two minds were battling for control.
And if that was the case, he might just be able to use it to his advantage.
Clutching his stomach, Bruce tried to push himself up, but the movement triggered a reaction in Jason.
“Trying to run?!”
At this, Jason’s indecision vanished. He grabbed Bruce by the collar, lifted him up, and raised a hand to slap him.
Bruce braced himself, ready for the blow. But… nothing happened.
Jason carried him over to a nearby tree and, from seemingly nowhere, produced a length of rope, binding Bruce to the trunk within moments.
“I came here to kill you… I’ll do it—I’ve waited for this moment,” Jason muttered to himself, almost as if he was trying to convince himself rather than Bruce.
Tied to the tree, Bruce could only watch as Jason paced back and forth, consumed by some inner turmoil. Jason’s fists clenched and unclenched as though struggling with himself, his hatred visible, yet somehow unable to act.
Maybe he isn’t as dangerous as I thought? Bruce wondered, and, cautiously, he decided to test this theory.
“Did you… know me well in the future?” Bruce ventured, his voice calm.
“Know you? Of course I know you!” Jason’s face twisted with anger, this question unlocking the venomous rage he’d been trying to hold back.
“I trusted you,” he snarled. “You were the most important person in my life, and you betrayed me!”
“Could you tell me about it?” Bruce took a chance, adopting a curious tone, feigning innocence, and playing up the childlike side of himself to connect with Jason.
It was one of the most essential skills any hero needed—Let’s talk.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Jason clenched his teeth, but despite himself, he began to recount his past. “Yes, I trusted you. You were the only one I ever cared about…” His words contradicted his anger, revealing a longing he’d tried to bury.
The more Bruce listened, the more he realized that the Bruce Wayne Jason was describing… wasn’t him.
Yes, he had resolved to protect Gotham and rid his home of crime, but the Bruce Wayne Jason described was far more rigid, distant, and shut off from everyone around him.
As if he’d built a fortress around his heart, keeping everyone out.
Was this really his future?
Would he one day become that person?
He didn’t have an answer, but a part of him sensed it was inevitable.
Seeing Bruce’s expression turn introspective, Jason sneered. “What’s wrong, Bruce? Not quite the person you’d hoped you’d grow up to be?”
How pitiful, he thought. Bruce Wayne didn’t even approve of his own future self.
With his anger vented, Jason seemed momentarily at peace, as if finally unburdened. He no longer felt any urgency to kill Bruce; he just wanted to fulfill his mission and take him back.
Take him back to the DC universe’s main timeline.
He stepped forward, raising his fist, intending to knock Bruce unconscious.
But just then, Jason noticed Bruce’s expression change from somber reflection to calm relief.
It was the look of someone who’d been stalling, just waiting for backup to arrive.
Who could it be?
Before Jason could turn, the air around him began to distort.
Out of his nose, his mouth, even the folds of his clothing, bats suddenly began to pour out, clawing and biting as they swarmed around him.
More and more bats appeared, as if materializing from the darkness, covering Jason in a writhing cloud, blocking his vision and tearing at his clothes and skin.
Jason swatted at the bats, struggling to rid himself of them, but the harder he fought, the more bats seemed to emerge.
“What… what’s happening…”
Jason could hardly comprehend it, the sheer mass of bats overwhelming him.
Bats—the creatures so closely tied to Bruce—brought a thought to his mind.
Could it be… Batman?
Not the young Bruce tied to the tree, but an older Batman from another universe.
Possibly even the Batman from his own universe.
“BRUCE!!!” Jason tried to scream his fury, but as soon as he opened his mouth, more bats streamed out, swarming him from the inside.
Unable to speak, Jason had no choice but to express his rage through action.
He couldn’t fight them all. The bats were relentless, and he was left with only one option—to retreat.
I’ll be back for you.
He gave Bruce one last glare before vanishing into the darkness, a cloud of bats following him as he fled.
Bruce watched the spectacle, stunned. Bats had always unsettled him, but today, they had saved him.
“Nice spell, right?”
Suddenly, Bruce heard a familiar voice. Turning, he saw Kartoum landing on his shoulder, flapping his wings in satisfaction.
“It’s called the ‘Bat Swarm Charm.’ Found it in an old book in the Room of Requirement.”
“That was… impressive,” Bruce murmured. “Will you teach it to me?”
“Not a chance.” Kathoom shook his head. “Right now, you’re a first-year at best. Maybe when you reach fourth-year proficiency, I’ll consider it.”
—
T/N: phew
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