[Integrated/Crossover DC/Marvel] Why Did the World End Again? - Chapter 25

Chapter 25: Dark Knight — Into the Cage

Late at night, Alice lay in bed, still ruminating on her plan for the next day. How could she get close enough to Annabelle to make contact? Just as she was deep in thought, a faint sound made her bolt upright in alertness.

She heard it her door was opening. For a moment, Alice didn’t dare breathe. What was happening in the middle of the night? Furthermore, why would the door open for no reason?

Could it be…

In an instant, all sorts of horror stories swirled in Alice’s mind: being dragged away at midnight to have her organs harvested, or being used for human experimentation. Then, a figure walked to her bedside and immediately covered her mouth.

Batman’s movements were incredibly agile. He had arrived at Alice’s door and, after a moment’s hesitation, opened it and brought her along.

Time was tight and the mission was heavy. He had to take her to ward S1 immediately to ask some questions.

After the events of the day, Bruce understood that time was the most precious commodity. He couldn’t be sure if Annabelle could remain completely sane and calm under prolonged electroconvulsive stimulation. If they waited too long and she turned into a lunatic, all their efforts would be for naught.

Alice was about to struggle when she heard that voice.

“It’s me.”

the owner of the voice released his hand.

“Bruce Wayne?”

You couldn’t blame Alice for being shocked. Her impression of Bruce was that he was just the richest man. Though she saw during the day that he was somewhat capable, that didn’t mean he should be able to pick the locks of these high-security doors.

Alice had observed during the day that the doors were strictly ID-verified. How did he get a keycard? With his charm? With his face?? Wait… is that even broadcastable?

“How did you get in? You aren’t doing some kind of ‘entrapment’ sting, are you?”

The thought flashed through Alice’s panicked brain. The whole situation felt a bit irrational. Was he pretending to be Bruce and setting a trap, leaving the door open just to see if she would try to escape? If she did, would he come at her with a whip and cold water? That would be way too twisted!

Bruce covered his face, and finally, he could only say:

“Things Batman left for me.”

The moment he said this, Bruce felt her immediately relax.

“I guess it’s not a sting then. No one in this place would ever mention Batman… As expected, Batman is the GOAT.”

Alice followed Bruce out. The two quickly arrived before the door marked S1.

“Wait, the surveillance…”

“Already handled.”

Hearing his reply, Alice nodded. Truly, she had been judging a “gentleman” by the standards of a “small person,” assuming he was a complete airhead. She was so foolish, truly.

How could someone who associated with Batman (not really) be an unintelligent airhead? It seemed Gotham really was a place of hidden talents, where even a playboy on the surface could be something more.

“Truly the man behind Batman.”

Bruce chose to remain silent.

Annabelle had not slept. her brain was in a state of chaotic excitement. She was used to it, or rather, she didn’t dare close her eyes easily. If she did, she would be drowned in those chaotic dreams and the sight of his hideous face.

“People loathe the light.”

Not long after this asylum was established, it successfully welcomed its first patient Batman.

“Hello, Batman—or should I call you Mr. Bruce Wayne? I’m glad you could comply with our plan for detailed treatment. With our efforts, we will surely help you return to a normal life…”

“What is a ‘normal’ life?”

Bruce wore the patient uniform, his hands and feet restrained. He sat there calmly, but the moment he barely raised his head, the person across from him took a large step back.

“Please do not act rashly, Mr. Wayne. A normal life is, of course, becoming a normal person. Do not harbor unrealistic thoughts or do unrealistic things. Return to the life of the people, and then you will be considered a normal person.”

In that moment, Bruce felt a surge of irritation. Looking at the man’s perfectly practiced smile and mechanized behavior, he felt restless. This shouldn’t be happening; he should be maintaining his composure at all times, yet a certain agitation seemed to be suppressed deep within his heart.

Deep in his soul, he was screaming.

He looked toward the other side of the room. A figure sat quietly by the windowsill, smiling at him. Apparently, no one else could see this figure.

The figure seemed to be in a great mood, happily humming a song. Framed against the brilliant sunlight, the person’s blonde hair looked exceptionally radiant.

“I love you, Bruce.”

After saying this, the figure continued to sing happily. Bruce felt he truly was going mad. The world had turned into this, he was inexplicably labeled a mental patient, and he was seeing people no one else could see. If he were just an ordinary person, he might have truly wavered at that moment.

But he wasn’t.

“What do you want?”

Ever since Bruce Wayne became an orphan at the age of eight, he understood the shallowest truths of the world. This planet doesn’t just rotate around the sun, nor does it rotate around so-called glory or natural laws; it rotates around the core of the world Interest.

No one does anything without meaning. Everything people do seems to be determined by the greatest primal drive in the depths of their hearts Greed.

He was no longer the Chairman of the Justice League, nor did he have the halo of the richest man. Wealth could no longer be extracted from him. So what did they want by keeping him here?

Justice League secrets?

Contingency plans against superheroes?

At this thought, Bruce smiled. It was good news; it indirectly told him one thing Superman wasn’t dead.

People always crave power that doesn’t belong to them, or things they aren’t meant to have. Footsteps echoed, the door was pushed open, and a familiar figure appeared: Lex Luthor.

Bruce looked at him, and Lex Luthor looked back at Bruce. Time shifted back to the various galas where the two would exchange hypocritical handshakes and play their parts. Who would have thought that years later, when they met again with their true identities revealed, it would be in such a setting?

“Long time no see, Bruce.”

Bruce looked at him in silence. For the first time, he felt he didn’t understand the man at all. He used to think he did after all, the labels on Luthor were clear: arrogance, performative personality, hubris. But the move of killing Superman was a gambit Bruce couldn’t fathom, no matter how hard he tried.

Luthor sat down and waved his hand. Immediately, everyone else filed out. He looked at Bruce with a flat expression, but for some reason, Bruce saw an inexplicable sorrow in his eyes.

“You can see him, can’t you? That man.”

Bruce said nothing to Luthor’s remark. He merely listened, preparing his next response.

“I’ve never told anyone. To be honest, maybe I’m too arrogant I feel they aren’t worthy of seeing him. But I know you should be able to. I’ve cut all the networks; no second person will ever know of our conversation. Bruce no, Batman I desperately need your help. Our world is on the brink of destruction.”

“Superman isn’t dead.”

Luthor smiled at Bruce’s assertive statement. He knew Batman would always be Batman.

“I know you. You could never be caught by us unless you gave up on yourself. But hearing a Batman ‘give up’ sounds a bit too terrifying. Regardless, I need you on my side. A true catastrophe is coming, and we are destined for destruction.

I didn’t know what to do, so I preserved Superman. He is currently sleeping in my base. When the day comes that this world is destroyed, he will wake up and take the spark I’ve left behind to the next planet, or restart civilization. I believe in him.”

As he spoke, a sense of immense absurdity rose in Luthor’s heart. How ridiculous: when Superman walked this earth, Luthor had been his greatest rival; now, he viewed the alien as the best means to continue human civilization.

Maybe he didn’t want to admit it, but he had to: Superman was good enough, and he had the power. Though Luthor was brilliant and had many ideas, in a hundred years he would be scorched earth. His will could continue through the alien; that wasn’t difficult. But Luthor understood the fundamental nature of humans better than anyone.

They are too greedy. If they truly achieved immortality, they would make this world even more terrifying. They would monopolize all wealth and lead civilization to another kind of extinction.

All of this came too suddenly. From the day he woke up with a start, he had dreamed of this. He once thought it was destiny; only now did he realize it was a curse.

He watched clearly as everyone on the planet stayed immersed in their dreams of life and death, while he alone waited clearly for the day of extinction to arrive. Now, sitting before him was the second smartest person in the world, the world’s greatest detective.

He needed a nod—a confirmation to validate whether everything he had done was correct.

“I’ve done all I can. If this planet is destroyed one day, perhaps with Superman’s help, it can continue…”

“What did you see?”

Bruce looked at him. He didn’t understand why the man had become like this, even appearing somewhat neurotic. A small event wouldn’t turn him into this. Luthor was never shaken by trivialities. So what could turn him into this?

At the topic, Lex Luthor pursed his lips. He stared at Bruce and finally spoke what he had seen.

“I saw the beginning of everything and the end of all things.”

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