[Integrated/Crossover DC/Marvel] Why Did the World End Again? - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Bat-Family

If love is a long, winding river, then pain is the unending flow of tears and the futile efforts to stay behind in regret.

“Brother Computer, I finally entrusted my heart to the wrong person… When I bought you, they never said you were this sturdy!!!”

Alice lay on the floor, her heart breaking as tears streamed down. Why was the world treating her like this? Just as her career was starting to take off, a trash game came along to ruin her. She had intended to smash the computer to prevent the “virus” from spreading, but instead, she nearly shattered her own hand from the recoil.

“It hurts so much…”

Lying on the ground, Alice groaned in frustration. What exactly was going on? Was this some terrifying virus, or an alien invasion? But why invade her computer? It didn’t make sense—shouldn’t they prioritize attacking the government or top-secret files first?

“Wait… maybe they’ve already started attacking the whole world…”

“Call the Justice League!!!”

In Gotham, Jason sat on his bed in silence after waking up. The ringing of his phone broke his contemplation. He glanced at the screen, saw the caller ID was “Dickhead,” and immediately hung up.

He was still thinking about the events in his dream last night. Everything felt disturbingly real—especially that strange girl and, more importantly…

“Batwoman?”

Jason sat on the bed, trying to organize the chaotic thoughts of the previous night, only to be interrupted by a tapping sound on his window. A familiar figure appeared outside the glass.

“Hello, Little Wing!”

The voice arrived before the person. In Gotham, there was only one person brave enough to call the Red Hood by that nickname: Dick Grayson, the Golden Boy of the Bat-family.

“Do you have a reason for being here?”

Jason opened the window. It had better be something serious—like an Arkham riot—otherwise, he’d give Dick a very personal demonstration of “rustic Gotham hospitality.”

“Bruce misses you… Little Wing.”

“Has he finally gone completely senile?”

Dick looked a bit surprised by the remark. Jason shrugged. Getting Batman to say “I miss you” out loud was harder than getting the Joker to go straight. The probability of Batman killing someone was higher than the probability of him uttering those words.

“Tell the old man I’ll come back. But not now.”

“Little Wing, don’t tell me you—”

“Shut up, Dickhead. I have important business to handle. Don’t let your imagination run wild. Now get off my windowsill…”

Before Jason could finish, he watched as Dick performed a cheerful backflip off the ledge, landed near his motorcycle in the alley, and blew a playful kiss before speeding off.

“People who climb into windows in broad daylight really have issues.”

Jason returned to his bed and pulled out his phone. He stared at the pinned contact in silence. Was an eternally empty message box still worth filling?

Ultimately, he ran a hand through his hair, bit his lip, and sent a message. Once sent, he tossed the phone aside, pretending he didn’t care to see a reply, and began searching the web for information on the game.

“I don’t care if he replies or not.”

The Batcave.

Batman stared at the message Jason had sent him, falling into a long silence. His relationship with Jason was strained—or rather, he didn’t know how to fix it. No one would believe that Bruce Wayne, the silver-tongued playboy of the media, could ever be at a loss for words.

To put it another way, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He used to believe he was omnipotent. Fact proved that even “Batman” wasn’t always right; he had made mistakes too.

He had lost much: a healthy body, a normal sleep schedule, the simple joys of an ordinary person. He had also, in a way, permanently lost his son.

He had struggled through numbness, accompanying himself with alcohol. The Batman known for his cold logic had once hoped to remain lost in a daze forever. In those moments of dissociation, he felt he could see that young, energetic figure. Yet, once that figure actually returned, it was as if Bruce’s mouth had been taped shut. Countless times, he wanted to hug his son and tell him, You’re the best. I’m proud of you. I’m so sorry. But the words would never come.

He had practiced in front of the mirror many times, yet when faced with the real thing, there was only that familiar silence. Alfred would only shake his head. He sighed. Everyone said he was stubborn, but Bruce only wondered one thing:

Was it that he couldn’t open his mouth, or was the world holding it shut? He actually had so much he wanted to say. He wanted to tell his children they were the best. He wanted to tell Alfred to take care of his health. He wanted to tell every member of the Justice League how grateful he was for them. Yet, at those moments, he usually chose silence…

Everyone would say, It’s fine, it’s just Batman. That’s how he is…

Batman looked back at Jason’s message:

“Emergency investigation: Lycoris Wayne. Suspected ability to pull people into dreams. — Red Hood.”

Staring at that familiar surname, Batman fell into thought. When he tried to send a follow-up message, it was like a stone dropping into the ocean—no trace remained.

Tim stood at the entrance of the Batcave, saying nothing. Was a black cape really that cool? It seemed everyone wanted to inherit it, but what lay beneath the cape? Responsibility, ideals, heroism—or pain?

Batman began a comprehensive search for keywords regarding “Lycoris Wayne.” Eventually, he found a recording of a game stream. He opened the video and watched silently. He didn’t have much experience with games—Batman rarely had time for entertainment—so he decided to see what this was all about.

Back at her apartment, Alice gritted her teeth and stood up, clicking on the game again. Aside from accepting this reality, she seemed to have no other choice.

What was even more dire was that Alice couldn’t prove what had happened. She wondered: if she tried to alert superheroes or the police, would the problem be solved first, or would she be solved first?

Alice felt the probability of ending up in Metropolis State Hospital was much higher. She needed evidence.

She clicked through the game. She needed to find Lycoris Wayne and see if there was a connection between the dream and the game.

Aggravatingly, every time she tried to perform a different operation, the screen remained stuck on a prompt.

“Player, please confirm character trait unlock.” “Player, please confirm character trait unlock.” “Player, please confirm…”

“Fine, fine, fine! Confirm! Confirm everything!!!”

Alice realized the cursed game had her backed into a corner.

Meanwhile, Jason could only find vague comments online about a certain game leeching off the Wayne name. Eventually, he tracked down a specific gaming account and clicked in.

Alice opened the game. The progress was stuck at yesterday. She reviewed the situation: Lycoris Wayne’s affection level had reached one and a half stars; the others were still locked. Looking at the screen where Lycoris was riding the pink scooter and greeting her friendlily, Alice felt a bone-chilling cold. This girl was nothing like the one in the dream last night…

Her creation, the floral-shirt-green-shorts “Little Mary,” stood there quietly as Lycoris approached to chat.

“Hello there, good girl. How did you sleep last night?”

Alice knew this was just a standard NPC greeting, but after the intense “battle royale” of the previous night, she felt like the other girl was dropping hints. She just had no proof.

Alice numbly clicked through the shallow dialogue. Muscle memory led her to click the “X” in the corner, and the game actually exited.

“Is the computer fixed? Did the virus leave?”

Alice began to observe carefully. It seemed the game was now behaving like a normal one; she could enter and exit at will. She tried the delete key again. Of course, it wasn’t that simple. It still wouldn’t delete.

“It’s fine. I’ll just never use the computer again…”

Alice pulled out her phone to play something else, only to find the massive icon sitting right there on her mobile screen: 《The Her/Him Next Door?》

“Okay, fine! Then I’ll just read something. No more electronics!”

Alice searched around and finally found a three-day-old newspaper on the sofa. It was the same old routine: the Daily Planet was beautifully praising Superman while taking a jab at Batman. Alice glanced at it and leaned back. With a loud creak, her poor little single-seater sofa successfully twisted out of shape.

And it wasn’t just the sofa that twisted—it was her, too…

“Why am I always the unlucky one!”

Alice slapped the sofa twice in anger. This time, it didn’t just bend—it completely shattered.

“Why do you treat me like this…”

Alice hung her head and began cleaning up the mess. She swept up the debris, and as she passed the refrigerator, she casually lifted it to sweep underneath. After she finished, Alice finally realized the severity of the situation.

Did she just lift a 50-pound refrigerator with one hand??!

Alice ran back and tried lifting it again. Sure enough, the fridge—which usually required two hands to budge—could now be lifted with a single hand. Alice wondered how this was possible… then she remembered something…

Bat-Stan: You are a fanatic Bat-fan. When someone insults Batman, you gain a Berserk buff, doubling your combat power.

Right! It was that stupid character trait she had just “confirmed.”

As everyone knows, scientific investigation requires total objectivity. Alice opened her phone and searched for every thread insulting Batman. After browsing through many of them, she returned to the refrigerator. This time, the fridge, which had felt “a bit light” before, now felt like a feather.

“So, the traits unlocked in the game turn into superpowers for me in real life?”

This was a bit too “professional” for her to handle alone. Alice decided to call the experts. The evidence was solid now; she could boldly call for help. Alice clicked on the Justice League official homepage’s contact info.

“Hello, I’m Alice, just an ordinary girl from Metropolis. I’ve encountered some specific supernatural events and hope official personnel can come to handle it. Thank you.”

After receiving a reply, Alice sighed. She didn’t know when they would arrive. She’d just wait… and then, someone arrived instantly.

Alice never in a million years expected it to be The Flash. His speed was incredible; he practically packed her and her computer together and whisked them away to the Justice League.

Gotham.

“Batman, I just checked. That game only has one player currently active.” Tim reported his findings to Batman.

“Who?”

“The IP is in Metropolis. Name is Alice, a game streamer.”

On the other side, Cyborg’s voice came through the Justice League comms:

“We just received a call for help from Metropolis. A girl named Alice claims to have encountered a superpower event. Which department should we send, Batman?”

“Bring her directly to the Watchtower…”

“Copy that.”

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