[Integrated/Crossover DC/Marvel] Why Did the World End Again? - Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Alfred

The true danger is gradually descending.

When Alice opened her eyes, she found herself standing on a street. As she observed her surroundings, a sense of familiarity washed over her. Those windows… wasn’t this the small apartment she had once rented in Gotham?

Is this Gotham? Alice remained skeptical. Under normal circumstances, Gotham was never this quiet; it was a city that typically crept up behind you to deliver a fatal blow.

Alice moved through the streets, searching for clues. Something felt profoundly wrong. It was too quiet and too clean. It wasn’t that Alice looked down on Gotham, but this city simply had no relationship with “clean and tidy.”

The surrounding houses were tightly shut. The ground was pure earth, untainted by blood.

No gang wars, no drugs, no blood, and no streetwalkers in the alleys. Is this still Gotham? This is a fake Gotham!!!

Alice stared toward the end of the alley. The silence was terrifying. A figure stood there silently, looking despondent: Lisol Wayne.

Lisol wore a gown adorned with magnificent jewels, leaning unceremoniously against a luxury car. Her hand fumbled with the gemstone necklace around her neck before she suddenly yanked downward, trying to tear it off. The white gold was too strong; instead of breaking, it sliced into her neck, drawing blood.

Giving up the futile effort, she sat dejectedly on the Gotham pavement. A shadow appeared behind her a tall frame with a red bat symbol on the chest.

“I thought you’d be more composed,” the man said. “Like staying at that pointless charity gala until it ended.”

“Red Hood… do you believe what they’re saying too?”

As Lisol spoke, Alice felt the man known as Red Hood fall into a sudden silence. The air grew thick with an awkward tension.

“You do believe it…”

“Lisol, we have to accept reality. There will never be vigilantes in Gotham again.”

As Jason said this, he felt a sense of relief, as if a heavy burden had finally been lifted. The mysterious force that had kept him going seemed to slowly drain away.

“But you’re still wearing that suit.”

Lisol stood up, removing her expensive high heels and the devices attached to them.

“I have a plan, brother.”

“You’ve truly gone mad.”

Under the dim yellow streetlights of Gotham, Lisol Wayne smiled.

“Ever since that person broke into Wayne Manor and killed Alfred, we’ve all been mad. So… let’s have our revenge.”

When Clark closed his eyes in bed and reopened them, he found himself in a strange place. In an instant, he understood Bruce had told him that the game this girl was bound to was peculiar, capable of pulling others in at any moment. Searching his surroundings, Clark spotted Alice in a nearby alley.

Alice watched the scene before her fade away. Just as she moved to follow, she collided with someone’s chest.

Clutching her nose and tearing up, she cursed her luck. Did I hit a robot? Why does it hurt so much? Clark, who had intended to share information, ended up steadying her. After a brief exchange, lines of text appeared before them:

“Many heroes were once buried here. Justice falls, and evil flourishes. Eventually, this cursed land will wither. Please, use every means necessary to survive…”

As the words appeared, Clark suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion and weakness. A massive halo manifested in the center of the city. High atop Wayne Tower, a giant orb of light pulsed, casting a green glow over the streets. Alice looked at Superman in confusion, while Clark clutched his chest.

“That’s Kryptonite.”

Alice’s heart sank.

• The Good News: In this dream trial, she was teamed up with the world’s strongest combatant and the ultimate Alpha Superman. Both in terms of power and aesthetics, it was a perfect setup.

• The Bad News: Though this perfect man had found her at the start, the enemy had already successfully targeted his only fatal weakness.

Alice and Clark were forced into emergency cover. At the end of the alley, they spotted another figure. Alice could only sigh another familiar face.

It was Lisol Wayne, but this time, she was wearing a strange new suit.

Alice and Clark exchanged what they knew. Clark began to grasp the situation: everything was wrong. Batman had mysteriously vanished, and no one knew where he was. That fact alone was staggering.

No one knew Bruce better than Clark. Bruce would never abandon his city unless he was dead.

Contemplating that possibility, Clark prepared for the worst. If Batman was gone, perhaps the Justice League of this world had fallen too…

As they evaded Lisol, a light projected into the sky. It was a symbol known to everyone, a legend woven into the fabric of Gotham. Against the dark, overcast clouds, a spotlight shone but the center of the beam featured a shattered Bat-Signal.

Clark’s expression darkened. Alice noticed and watched him cautiously.

“Someone has stolen this city…”

Seeing the broken signal, Clark almost forgot his physical discomfort, replaced by a surge of righteous fury. Batman had sacrificed everything for this city; he was a warrior who deserved respect. To display a broken symbol as a trophy revealed one thing: the current master of the city was no friend to justice.

Clark clenched his fist, trying to stay calm. Alice gripped his arm, urging him to keep his head. Years of partnering with Batman had taught Clark one thing: stay sharp, no matter how infuriating the circumstances.

Suddenly, a pair of boots appeared before them. Clark was startled by Lisol Wayne’s appearance. Her eyes were identical to Bruce’s. More importantly, the bat symbol on her chest and her tactical gear confirmed she wasn’t just a Wayne by blood she was trained in the Way of the Bat.

A daughter of the Bat might have the answers. Clark hadn’t forgotten the title of this story: Gotham Submerged by the Sea. If the city had already fallen, when would the waters arrive?

Lisol looked at the two newcomers. She ignored the red-haired girl in the strange clothes, fixing her gaze on Clark. What is this? Lex Luthor’s last stand from the ruins of Metropolis? Or a fleeting moment of hope granted by a madman? It didn’t matter. Jason was dead, Dick was missing. Everything had to end. Gotham would always belong to Batman.

“A clone? Or just a fool?”

Lisol asked with a trace of mockery. Of course he was a fool. Gotham had been outfitted with the ultimate Kryptonite shielding to prevent the “Knight’s best partner” from intervening. No Kryptonian should be able to set foot here; the city had become a playground for “justice.”

Hearing her question, Clark realized the situation was worse than he imagined. From the look in her eyes, it seemed the Superman of this world was likely gone.

“The situation might be different than you think. I’m a Superman from another world. I can help, but I need to know what happened to this city.”

“It all began with the death of the Joker.”

Lisol spoke plainly, her memories drifting back to that winter. It was Christmas. Everyone was gathered for the holidays, but the happiness was short-lived. Arkham rioted, and the family scattered to handle the chaos.

“Watch your back!”

Dick performed a mid-air flip, kicking a criminal behind Lisol. She smiled. “Thanks, big brother.”

“Give me a break,” Jason grumbled, pouring rubber bullets into Joker thugs. He frowned at the crazed crowd. “More Joker venom? Can’t that freak come up with a new trick?”

“Little Wing, don’t be like that,” Dick chirped while injecting himself with an antitoxin. “Cliché or not, at least there’s a cure. Catch!”

Jason rolled his eyes under his hood as they moved to the next riot point. The GCPD provided backup, though as usual, they were mostly relegated to clean-up. As they pushed forward, Lisol felt a sense of unease.

“It’s too quiet. Knowing that maniac, shouldn’t he have hijacked a TV station for a death broadcast by now?”

Dick sighed. “B’s beefed up the station’s network security. It’ll take the Joker a while to hack in this time.”

“He’ll find a way,” Jason muttered.

As they cleared the streets, Tim’s voice crackled over the comms: The Joker had, once again, hijacked the broadcast. Jason shrugged the same old routine. Choice-based psychological games.

But when they looked at the screens, the entire family went silent.

The person tied to the chair for the “binary choice” wasn’t a politician or a random civilian.

It was Alfred.

The old butler who cared for them all, Bruce’s “father,” and the heart of the Bat-family. Their Alfred.

“My dear little birds,” the Joker’s voice crackled. “Let’s play a new game!”

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