Chapter 244: How Did Batman Die?
In the bedroom of Demon Manor, forever permeated with the scent of sulfur and ancient parchment scrolls.
The air seemed to have solidified into hard ice.
Ian Kent, the nominal master of the manor, was at this moment like a kitten grabbed by the scruff of its neck, firmly controlled in the hands of his old father—the God of Man—Clark Kent.
Ian’s mind was racing, thinking of how to cleverly defend his act of illegally gathering light energy and converting it into dark energy by “borrowing” Ultraman Tiga’s method; he had even prepared several lines of rhetoric, trying to package this “gathering light” behavior as a necessary and innovative energy application research.
However.
“Wells really couldn’t do something like that… but I can!” All thoughts were torn apart by a sudden, teeth-gritting red lightning.
Zila—!
Crimson light like a wound tearing through space, a figure in a reverse lightning battle suit abruptly appeared in the center of the hall, the hum from high-speed vibration covering all subtle sounds.
He steadied himself, and that signature voice full of endless malice and mockery transmitted through the mask, every syllable carrying the sting of electricity.
After appearing, Reverse-Flash’s face was still vibrating intensely, enough to block The Flash, but not necessarily against Superman who had undergone eerie changes and progressed far beyond historical records.
So he had also made extra disguises, using【 Shapeshifter】 traits to craft a new face for himself.
“To be honest, I’m surprised; the demon stench here is really overpowering, not at all like a place where that self-righteous Justice League crowd would gather.”
His tone was still full of mockery.
Infuriating.
Ian felt his father’s hand on the back of his neck suddenly tighten a bit; he couldn’t pretend to be in pain and immediately struggled a few times like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, quibbling.
“Slander! This is blatant slander! Uncles and Aunties, you must see clearly! This is just a manor with a ‘demon flavor’! Themed decoration! Get it? Like a themed restaurant! Essentially a healthy, eco-friendly, absolutely Justice League core values-compliant legal building!”
Ian didn’t want his manor demolished.
“…”
Aquaman Arthur, Diana, and the others actually didn’t dare to demolish it either, afraid of being targeted by Ian, so they looked toward the only superhero present qualified to offend Ian.
“Shut up.”
Clark’s expression was very embarrassed, his low voice carrying an unquestionable majesty, instantly making Ian swallow all his follow-up quibbles.
Then, Superman’s gaze was like two searchlights, sharply shooting toward the uninvited guest.
“Reverse-Flash, Eobard Thawne. You escaped once, but not necessarily a second time; apparently last time’s lesson didn’t teach you to behave.”
Clark stepped forward, his overwhelming aura like a mountain crushing down. Against everyone’s expectations, Reverse-Flash, who had just been mocking, actually retreated half a step, his high-speed vibrating figure stagnating for an instant, as if a fear from life’s instinct was awakened.
However, he quickly forced himself to steady his mind, his voice under the mask sinking, carrying a rare helplessness, patiently performing a concession operation.
“I’m not your enemy, at least not today.” He expressed his true intention of not coming to fight, but still straightened his back as much as possible to not lose face.
“Heh.”
Aquaman scoffed.
“What we want more is a permanent solution, assuring you can never appear as an enemy again.” Diana stepped forward, the Lasso of Truth flashing golden light in her hand; the Sword of Vulcan was not drawn, but the killing intent was already chilling. As the Princess of the Amazons, she knew well that mercy to some enemies was cruelty to oneself.
Ian, held by his old dad, instantly got excited, as if seeing a chance to show his “heroic spirit”; he struggled to shout: “Yes, yes! Count me in! I want to help too! I’m a superhero too! After it’s done, I mean when the dust settles, can I have Reverse-Flash’s legs?”
“My Christmas Reindeer are still short a few!”
He was eager to try.
His eyes full of longing for the “reindeer.”
“????”
As soon as he spoke.
Barry Allen beside him, aka The Flash, almost reflexively “whooshed” a few steps away from Ian.
This superhero’s face was full of vigilance and a hint of worry.
“Those are reindeer, not moose; whatever, you don’t really want to raise deer anyway.” He knew too well what Ian meant by “reindeer”—the black lightning’s legs that Ian had dismantled in some way last time! God knows how many more weird plans this kid had in his head.
“You shouldn’t have come, Thawne.”
Changing the subject.
The Flash Barry turned his gaze to Reverse-Flash, his tone complex, with vigilance toward his arch-nemesis and a subtle connection to another bearer of the Speed Force.
“Hmm? You can’t control me.” Reverse-Flash’s Adam’s apple visibly bobbed under the mask as he swallowed, showing his inner tension was not fake.
Mainly because Superman pressured him greatly.
“You can certainly grab me now, lock me up, or even… kill me. With your current abilities, you might really do it. But without me, I assure you… you can’t travel through time, can’t stop all these changes, can’t restore the world to its original state.”
His voice carried a do-or-die resolve.
His gaze pierced the mask, locking firmly on Superman, “Look outside, Superman, use your Super Vision, look closely at those churches, and Capitol Hill!”
No choice, even if his heart was faltering, Reverse-Flash could only grit his teeth and speak.
“Hm?” Clark frowned, turning his head as instructed, his gaze penetrating the manor’s thick stone walls toward the distant city skyline. The next moment, his expression became extremely colorful, from confusion to shock, then to an indescribable gravity, as if seeing something that overturned his cognition.
No one knew what Clark saw.
Everyone only knew.
The invincible Superman’s lips trembled, his body shaking, but in the end, he said nothing.
“Clark, what happened?”
Diana noticed his anomaly and immediately asked.
Aquaman Arthur also cast an inquiring gaze.
Clark slowly turned his head, shook it, voice low: “…Nothing.”
Though he said that, the aura around him, originally like a drawn sword, clearly restrained a lot, replaced by cautious weighing.
“Based on your countless evil deeds, Thawne, we can’t trust you.”
Superman stared at Reverse-Flash; though his tone was still tough, the words themselves were already a concession and probe, leaving room for maneuver.
“You can only trust me!” Reverse-Flash tried to regain some initiative, raising his voice with his usual arrogance, “Only I understand the Speed Force, the timeline…”
“No, wrong.” Barry suddenly interrupted him, a flash of realization in his blue eyes; he stared tightly at Reverse-Flash, as if to pierce that vibrating shell to see his essence, “I get it… If this era now is messed up by modifications, then the future you came from… must be even more unrecognizable.”
“Even… ceased to exist, right? Thawne.”
“You’re not helping us now; you’re racing against your own erasure! You must fix this before the time paradox’s influence fully reaches you, wiping out every trace that you ever existed!” No wonder he’s The Flash; he really understood his arch-nemesis’s nature well.
“Yes, yes, exactly, Uncle Barry stole my line.” Ian listened with shining eyes, immediately raising his still movable hand, trying to join this “intelligence contest”: “Actually… I thought of this situation long ago! I’m still the smartest in the world…”
He didn’t finish before Superman covered his mouth. Unfortunately, no one paid attention to his self-praise. Everyone’s gazes focused on Reverse-Flash.
Waiting for Reverse-Flash’s answer.
Reverse-Flash fell silent. That high-speed vibrating yellow figure seemed to stagnate for an instant. He didn’t admit it directly, but the silence was the best answer. He dodged Barry’s question, instead saying in a gloomy tone: “You’re the same. Timeline changes are like a plague; no one escapes.”
“Batman… Bruce Wayne, that man is your best warning right now. Isn’t his current state enough to alert you?”
Mentioning Bruce Wayne’s status as if vanished from the human world, no longer existing, completely disappeared, cast a shadow over everyone’s hearts.
The Flash Barry was noncommittal; he cared more about practical issues.
“Cut the talk, Thawne. Even if we temporarily believe your purpose, how do you plan to take us through time? Time is sealed; you said it yourself.”
The Flash also wanted to figure out the reason.
But Reverse-Flash didn’t seem to plan to explain in detail.
“Not ‘us.'” Reverse-Flash shook his head, his crimson gaze sweeping over every Justice League leader present, finally that electrified finger precisely pointing at Ian, still held in Superman’s hand: “Only him. Only this kid has even a sliver of possibility to go back to the past and reverse all this.”
“Me?” Ian was stunned; he roughly pieced together the cause and effect—Jonathan, Jordan, Damian sent back to the past by the Weeping Angel causing world upheaval—but he still didn’t quite understand why Batman’s earlier hint and now Reverse-Flash’s nomination were so certain he was the key.
“Why me?”
It couldn’t be judging by looks in this situation.
Perhaps.
His future self certified forever, locking all time?
Ian guessed in his heart.
Wild ideas kept coming.
Superman keenly caught the key detail in Reverse-Flash’s words, frowning, tone more serious: “Just ‘a chance’?”
“Thawne, you mean you don’t have full confidence either? This is just gambling?” He wasn’t just worried about Jonathan and Jordan, and the worry-optional Damian.
Likewise, the old father feared something happening to Ian; of course, if nothing happened, the old father would actually be even more anxious, just anxious about different things.
“What else?”
Reverse-Flash let out a short, hoarse laugh, with near-speechless honesty: “Right, it’s gambling. I’ve researched a long time on how to unseal time after it’s locked; now I’ve just found some clues, some theoretical possibilities. Blame yourselves for this situation.”
“Time and time again, playing with time.”
“Even worse, letting a bunch of arrogant kids touch that ghost thing from the outer universe that completely defies our physical rules!”
Saying that, he pointed to a safe in the hall corner, covered in heavy material and complex runes—that was Batman’s personally set container to seal the Weeping Angel that caused all the disaster. Reverse-Flash clearly knew about such outer universe intrusions, his tone full of undisguised dread and disgust.
“You’re right.”
Clark fell silent, deep guilt and self-blame flashing across his face. As a father, as the Justice League leader, he indeed bore undeniable responsibility.
“This isn’t all your fault, Clark.” Aquaman Arthur patted his shoulder, trying to comfort, though his voice was equally heavy.
Ian, seeing this, immediately tried to distance himself.
“Definitely not my fault either!”
He looked at The Flash.
“This time it really wasn’t me; I said it was that statue.”
The Flash jumped in place.
“That’s not important.”
Ian answered irrelevantly, then turned to Reverse-Flash.
“So… Yellow Flashy, how do you plan to send me back? Do I need to strike a pose?” He guessed the other had tech means, like a time machine originally for returning to the future.
Eager to try.
However.
Ian’s expression, like going to an adventure summer camp, made Clark’s heart tighten more. Send this erratic, quirky-thinking youngest son back to the past?
God knows if he’d make things worse!
That was the biggest worry.
However, right now, Batman was in unknown state, timeline continuously collapsing, Reverse-Flash’s words though not fully trustworthy seemed the only visible way out.
“Sigh.”
Superman’s Super Brain hit a thinking bottleneck, mainly lacking the External Brain so it seemed insufficient; he could only stare dead at Reverse-Flash, Super Hearing maxed, trying to catch the true thoughts revealed in his heartbeat, blood flow, and even the slightest muscle fiber tremors.
Of course.
Mind-reading ability was also activated.
Reverse-Flash’s mouth under the mask seemed to curve into a twisted, wicked arc. He leaned forward slightly, voice very low.
Yet it exploded like thunder in Ian’s ear.
“Simple, kid.”
“I’ll make you… a Speedster.”
Shocking words.
Right in Demon Manor.
As tense negotiations and standoff over time travel unfolded.
At the other end of the timeline.
At the node where everything wrong just began… the story was just opening, meaning the three had just been sent to the past by the Weeping Angel.
“Splash!”
“Ouch!”
“Damn it!”
The three minors were very disheveled, voices full of pain and mess mixing with muddy water splashing, echoing in a dim, damp alleyway.
Jonathan Kent, Jordan Kent, and Damian Wayne fell heavily onto a patch of cold, filthy ground in an extremely inelegant but very standard “dog-eat-shit” pose.
Torrential rain poured down mercilessly.
There was a lot of standing water on the ground.
So they naturally became drowned rats. Rainwater with biting chill washed over the sticky grime already covering them from who-knows-where.
“Pah! Pah!”
Jordan was the first to struggle up, spitting out muddy water from his mouth, face full of confusion and discomfort, “What the hell is this place?! Weren’t we just dealing with that stone statue?”
Jonathan also grimaced to his feet, rubbing his sore arm; he looked around, using distant dim street lamps and shop neon lights to see the surroundings—narrow alleyway, mottled brick walls, rain-soaked paper ads on the walls, trash cans tipped over, emitting a rancid smell.
The car engine sounds from the street were dull and old; distant shop signs had a strong retro feel.
“Don’t know… but definitely not our Metropolis, maybe not even our era.” Jonathan’s voice carried unease.
“You mean we time traveled?” Jordan focused, activating his Super Hearing. Instantly, countless noisy sounds flooded his mind, making him frown uncomfortably. “My god… what am I hearing? The radio’s playing Michael Jackson’s《Beat It》?”
“And… Duran Duran? And tons of songs I’ve only heard on old dad’s record collection… This feels like… the 80s? Or 90s?”
“Or maybe some parallel universe?” Damian was the last to stand, his movements relatively agile but face equally grim, rainwater dripping from his sleek short black hair. He wrung his soaked cuffs while proposing a possibility, “Time travel or parallel universe jump both possible.”
“Too cool!”
The natural demon seed seemed ignorant of fear.
“No matter where this is, old man will find a way to save us.” Jonathan took a deep breath, trying to calm down; as the relatively steady one among the brothers, he realized panic solved nothing now, “The priority is figuring out what happened to us.”
“And our current exact environment.”
Jordan nodded in agreement, but then a stronger discomfort surged. He tugged at his T-shirt tightly stuck to his skin, full of filth.
“I agree, but first, we need to find a place to settle; I’m about to pass out from my own smell, I really, really want a hot shower now!”
Jordan’s face showed extreme disgust.
“Right, right.” Damian nodded deeply in agreement; he had a cleanliness obsession, and being in this sewage-flowing alleyway, soaked and dirty, was worse than killing him. Even the less picky Jonathan felt like he’d just been fished out of a septic tank.
“Alright, find a place to stay first.”
Jonathan agreed, then patted his pockets, “Let me see what I brought. Uh, I only have fifty US Dollars cash. Jordan, you? Got money?”
Jordan rummaged in his soaked pockets for a while, only pulling out a water-damaged black-screened mobile phone; he shook it helplessly: “I’m used to mobile payment.”
“In modern society with advanced tech, who carries that much cash?” It wasn’t wrong; Jonathan sighed, pointing to the street outside the alley flashing a “Blockbuster” signboard: “You think the hotels here look like they take Apple Pay?”
Blockbuster, a defunct video rental chain; on the night street, vehicle styles clearly outdated, shop decor, rustling pedestrians in slightly dated clothes—everything pointed to a world they didn’t know, at least a dozen or more years earlier.
“No money won’t stump a trained Gothamite.” Damian snorted coldly, a wisdom beyond his years on his face.
He unhesitatingly rolled up his drenched sleeve.
Pulling a thin iron wire from a hidden compartment in his tactical belt, his sharp gaze swept toward a roadside parked, quite old Ford sedan at the alley mouth.
“Hey! I’m good at this! I’ll watch for you!”
Jordan immediately perked up, eagerly moving closer. In oppression and confusion, doing something—even bad—could temporarily dispel inner unease.
“Are you crazy?! That’s crime!” Jonathan’s eyes widened in shock, lowering his voice to shout, trying to stop these two lawless guys.
“In Gotham, this is basic survival skill, very common.” Damian didn’t look back, already squatting by the Ford sedan’s car door.
He skillfully probed the door lock with the wire.
“But this isn’t Gotham!” Jonathan was nearly frantic, feeling like the “normal” one out of place between these two.
Just as Jonathan tried to physically stop them—
“Boom!!!”
A dull, massive explosion came from a few blocks away, even feeling the slight ground vibration underfoot.
The three boys froze instantly.
“What happened?!”
Jordan shot to his feet.
Super Hearing made the explosion sound clearer to him.
“Explosion! About… three streets away!”
Jonathan had instantly become Armor Hero, transforming very quickly; the Armor Hero state also gave him extraordinary identification ability.
“I’ll listen to the details!” Jordan immediately focused, reactivating Super Hearing, precisely directing his hearing toward the explosion’s direction.
He filtered out the rain sounds.
And distant music and noisy voices.
Striving to capture the explosion site’s noises.
Then, he heard people’s terrified screams, building fragments falling, flames crackling, and… an extremely heavy sound.
Like footsteps with metallic friction sound.
Some battle was happening.
And the scent of Kryptonite Powder.
Before Jordan could pinch his super nose, a low, hoarse, cold voice pierced through countless noises like an icy awl, clearly drilling into Jordan’s eardrums.
“Clark, tell me… do you bleed too?” That voice asked, with a chilling, hellish calm.
