[Integrated/Crossover DC/Marvel] Why Did the World End Again? - Chapter 13

Chapter 13: The Pain of the Bat

The night in Gotham was as bone-chilling as ever. A gust of wind blew past, making Alice shiver uncontrollably.

“Lisol, you shouldn’t carry it all on your own. I believe even if Bruce were here, he wouldn’t want you to do this. He might be a man of few words, but I know him he wanted you all to become the best versions of yourselves, not to live and die for him.”

Clark’s voice was steady and resolute. Even Alice couldn’t help but wonder: how could someone so exhausted and in so much pain continue to offer warmth to others?

Lisol Wayne heard the Man of Steel’s words but kept her head down. She offered no reply, only continuing her narration. In Alice’s eyes, she didn’t seem like a living person anymore; she was like a numb NPC, stubbornly determined to finish her script.

“A stranger suddenly appeared and took over everything. He wanted to inherit the Batman’s legacy, and that’s when Gotham descended into total chaos…”

Everything had spiraled toward the most tragic conclusion. The rest of the Justice League never arrived to help because they were facing their own ultimate tribulations. Superman was lost in the Phantom Zone, never to be heard from again. The other members vanished under mysterious circumstances. The Bat-family bore the brunt of the attack; as mere humans, most were killed. Talia al Ghul forcibly appeared to take Damian back to the League of Assassins forever.

Gotham had become the enemy’s territory. Only Lisol Wayne remained, guarding a “forever” that seemed to lead nowhere.

Clark found the outcome hard to accept and asked what had happened to the others.

Lisol tilted her neck, and Alice heard a sickening crackle. Fear and a sense of foreboding rose in her chest.

Alice began to piece things together: Where did Batman go? Who ruled Gotham now? What exactly was the Court of Owls? And how did Lisol Wayne, a normal human, survive when so many superheroes were gone? Was it a unique skill, or was the killer keeping a “souvenir” to satisfy a sick sense of humor?

“Martian Manhunter burned in a great fire. Wonder Woman was targeted by Cheetah and died of Centaur poison. Cyborg was forced into a remote login and vanished into the data stream. The Flash disappeared into the Speed Force. Green Lantern never returned. Shazam said he was going to the Rock of Eternity and was never seen again. Aquaman is dead. That’s everything. It’s all over. So, run while you can.”

“There’s always a way.”

Clark spoke with conviction. Lisol looked straight at him, her mind “rusted” from trauma. She was terrified to touch the forbidden memories. The moment she killed the Joker might have been satisfying, but it brought eternal agony. A lethal virus had merged with her blood, keeping her perpetually on the edge of insanity. One wrong step and she would become the “Mother of Madness,” Gotham’s newest demon.

“Why are you so confident? Right… you’re Superman. You always have a way…”

Alice looked down and saw a crystalline drop hit the pavement. Was it a tear? She couldn’t tell. The momentary display of emotion vanished as quickly as a hallucination, and Lisol returned to her cold, analytical self.

“We can’t connect to the network. The moment we log in, we’ll be found. Brother Eye has become the enemy’s most powerful weapon. Everything the Justice League and Superman left behind is now the enemy’s safeguard.”

Alice remained silent. She didn’t know much about the world of superheroes, but she noted that Clark’s calm demeanor suggested things might not be entirely hopeless or he was just that good at hiding it.

Clark frowned. He was preparing for the worst. He knew Bruce would never give up on Gotham or his family. He hoped Bruce was just trapped somewhere, unable to reach them.

Please don’t let the reality be worse than that.

“Have you considered magic? They are rare allies, and magic could be used to find Batman.”

When Clark suggested this, Alice noticed a look of utter confusion on Lisol’s face. It was as if “magic” was a foreign, impossible concept. This immediately caught Alice’s attention. As a veteran of puzzle games, she knew that small details were often the key to everything.

This must be a crucial clue. Maybe all of this is related to why magic is missing… Alice thought, glancing at Clark.

Clark understood the look, but he too fell silent. He knew how many magic users were in the League and the existence of the Justice League Dark. But in Lisol’s story, everything related to magic had vanished, as if it had been erased from existence.

“So, what do we do now?” Alice asked, looking at Lisol. In this city, she was the host.

Lisol looked toward the skyline at the source of the Bat-signal: Wayne Tower.

“That is Wayne Enterprises. Everything that belongs to Batman. He stole it, and he will pay…”

“Who is the master of this city now?” Clark asked.

Alice waited for the answer. Clark’s mind raced through a list of villains: Two-Face? Penguin? Could it be Carmine Falcone?

“Napier.”

The name left both of them baffled. Alice didn’t know much about supervillains, but she was pretty sure this didn’t sound like a “big shot” name. Clark was even more confused; the name was ordinary and had no known connection to Gotham’s underworld. Seeing their bewilderment, Lisol smiled bitterly.

“He’s an old acquaintance. He once had a name we all know The Joker.”

“But you said you killed him!”

Lisol winced at the memory. She had fired the shot. Everything had spun out of control. Batman had tackled her and tried to resuscitate the Joker. Jason stood there in shock. But it was too late Alfred and Dick were dead. The police arrived and rushed the Joker to the hospital.

Then, the world turned into a cruel joke. The Joker died, but when he “woke up,” he was cured. He had forgotten his crimes and the price he owed. Instead, he became Jack Napier, entered politics, and eventually ran for Mayor of Gotham.

“I knew it was my fault, Father, but I didn’t believe the Joker could turn good. There had to be a catch!”

“Lisol, you need to stay calm. You killed the Joker, and you’ve been infected by the Joker Virus…”

Bruce had looked at her with such a complex expression. In one night, he had lost his father figure and his first son. No one would bring him vegetable juice during his late-night shifts anymore. There would be no more Golden Boy.

Bruce had locked himself away, but then another email arrived that tore his heart to shreds.

What was Batman? He was the Dark Knight, the moment of courage for the poor looking at the sky, the dream of the street urchins, the final line of defense in a city of sin.

In twenty years of fighting crime, what did Bruce gain? A body full of scars, a reputation of infamy, and endless pain.

In this city, there are no real winners. Everyone is forced to meet their fate, becoming either a lonely soul or the fertilizer for the next feast of evil. Malice, pain, and sin were the true colors of Gotham.

When Bruce was a child, the city taught him about “Forever.” It taught him that the only fair thing in life is that everyone gets only one life and he lost his parents in that alley to prove it.

At twenty, when he became Batman and was hunted by the police, he learned a second lesson: even if you are a hero, if you don’t reveal your identity, you are a criminal.

Now, at forty, he had learned a new truth: in this city, there is no such thing as a hero. The high-society elites never hated Batman. They loved him more than anyone.

Every charity gala and every press conference proved the same story: the “Dark Knight” business Bruce had sacrificed everything for—the “lighthouse” he thought would guide people to greatness was actually just a tool used by the elite to monopolize wealth.

Batman’s twenty years were a joke.

“In the land of Gotham, there has never been light.”

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