Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [58]

“Bruce, interested in Thor’s hammer?”

Hawkeye noticed Bruce’s gaze fixed on Mjolnir in the distance and chuckled, deciding to give Bruce a little nudge.

“If you earn the hammer’s favor and lift it, you’ll gain Thor’s powers. Tempting, isn’t it?”

“Are you sure this isn’t just the Sword in the Stone story?”

Bruce looked away, unimpressed.

Mjolnir was nearly shattered, its surface riddled with cracks. Even if he managed to lift it, how long would it even last?

Besides, how did “being worthy” work here? If the hammer determined worthiness, anyone lifting it wasn’t Thor—they were just the Hammer God.

Bruce’s disinterest surprised Hawkeye.

Over the past fifty years, nearly everyone who saw Mjolnir had at least tried lifting it, seeking the power and prestige of a god.

But Bruce’s restraint was rare.

After all—

Even the owl on his shoulder had flown over to try!

Only then did Bruce notice Kathoom was missing.

Turning, he saw the owl outside, perched on the hammer. With wings clasped around the handle, he was pulling on Mjolnir as if it were a giant turnip.

Kathoom heaved and strained, but Mjolnir didn’t budge.

Clearly, the hammer hadn’t deemed him worthy.

Bruce could only shake his head in exasperation.

Kathoom flew back, muttering in frustration.

By all accounts, Mjolnir required qualities like righteousness, courage, and fearlessness.

And didn’t he, Kathoom, meet every single one? Then why wouldn’t it budge?

—

The Spider-Mobile continued slowly through the bustling market.

Suddenly, a robot stepped in front of the vehicle, waving eagerly to Hawkeye.

The robot wore human clothes and clutched a paper bag, looking like it had just returned from shopping.

“Oh! Hawkeye, thank goodness you’re here! It’s me—Ultron Mark VIII!”

Clearly, he needed something urgent from Hawkeye and wasted no time asking, “Have you heard any news from Tori lately?”

At the mention of Tori’s name, Hawkeye’s expression shifted.

Leaning out of the car window, he began speaking in low tones with the robot, Ultron Mark VIII.

Kathoom knew their story.

This was once the Ultron, who had downgraded through countless iterations until he reached this current state, incapable of fighting even a regular human.

The “Tori” Ultron mentioned was Spider-Man’s daughter.

Hawkeye was her first husband, while Ultron Mark VIII was her second.

In a sense, they were “brother-in-laws.”

This conversation revolved around Hawkeye and Tori’s daughter, Ashley.

Rebellious by nature, Ashley had recently attempted to challenge Kingpin’s rule. Her defiance failed, and she was captured; her execution was scheduled for tomorrow.

Ultron Mark VIII, the “stepfather,” had come to the “father” for help.

Kathoom had no interest in rescuing Ashley.

The girl was practically a maniac.

This world’s timeline closely resembled Old Man Logan.

In the original story, after Hawkeye rescued her, Ashley killed Kingpin and took control of his territory, only to later try to kill her father to assert her dominance. Poor Bruce didn’t even have a father, and yet Ashley wanted to murder hers.

For Bruce’s sake, Kathoom decided it was best to keep him as far away from Ashley as possible.

“Alright, everyone, how about we rest here in Hammer Falls for the day?”

When Hawkeye returned to the car, he had already made up his mind.

He was going to rescue his daughter.

The best time to rescue Ashley was at night, and after last night’s journey, a day’s rest seemed perfectly reasonable.

Hawkeye didn’t ask for help from the others. Logan was too reluctant, and Bruce too young for such a mission.

Neither Logan nor Bruce objected. Together, they followed Hawkeye to Ultron Mark VIII’s home.

Hawkeye figured that waiting a single day couldn’t hurt.

—

Kingpin’s Domain: The Arena

Calling it an arena was generous—it was just a run-down stadium.

A few grunts were tidying up the place, preparing for tonight’s big show.

Ashley, the one who attempted to assassinate Kingpin, would be executed tomorrow, but her henchmen were scheduled to battle Kingpin’s pet dinosaurs tonight—till death.

The show had Kingpin’s men excited.

As they worked, an unexpected portal opened in midair.

All eyes turned to it, a mix of confusion and awe on their faces.

A figure slowly emerged from the portal.

As he stepped out and the portal closed, the grunts got a full view of the intruder.

He wore a helmet divided down the middle—yellow on one side, black on the other. The left side featured a striking red eyepiece, beneath which glinted a single, cold eye, while the right was entirely masked in black. Two bright red ribbons trailed from the back of the helmet.

Fully armored, he carried an array of weapons, a sword and baton strapped to his back.

The mere sight of him radiated menace.

Bruce’s second pursuer had arrived.

This was Deathstroke, real name Slade Wilson—one of the most infamous mercenaries and assassins in the DC Universe. A master tactician, a martial arts expert, and proficient in all forms of weaponry.

He possessed peak physical abilities, accelerated healing, and utilized 90% of his brain’s capacity.

Deathstroke worked for money, charging astronomical fees but never failing to deliver.

Now, as he entered this new universe, he immediately felt the prickle of countless eyes watching him.

And with so many people observing him, Deathstroke felt a distinct lack of security.

This mission marked his first time working in an unfamiliar universe, leaving him without any prior advantages.

No global safehouses, no vehicles or supplies, no intel networks or allies. He didn’t even know what currency was used here.

Starting from scratch.

And all the prying eyes made him feel as exposed as if he’d shown up without armor.

It had been decades since he’d felt this vulnerable.

Unacceptable.

Just then, one of Kingpin’s grunts mustered up the courage to speak, “Who are you? Do you even know where you are?!”

How convenient. Deathstroke was indeed curious about his location.

His icy left eye focused on the grunt who had spoken, his voice carrying a faint mechanical echo.

“That’s a great question,” he said. “So, you get to die last.”