original

Marvel: Dark Knight

นักเขียน: L_NA_8225

บท 1: Who am I?

A round marble floats in an ocean of darkness, colours of energy circling it, little shining stars blinking brightly within it. It stays there looking fragile and captivating. One word to describe it, beautiful. The Universe is beautiful.

Suddenly, it POPS!

The energy within, rushes madly in all directions, escaping its once sturdy container.

Only a sound can be heard as it bursts. "Hahaha! You win Bat-" The sentence was cut off as the universe exploded dazzlingly, even if it dies, it is beautiful.

For what remains in the void after the destruction of the universe is a speck of light. Which then shoots off far, as if something is calling it. It moves unabatedly through the void for aeons, like a magnet attracted to something.

(In the void)

Three souls can be seen merging as they shine in bright colour. If it is observed from a fifth-dimensional perspective, those three souls seem incomplete, lacking certain essence, and emotions. One of the souls lacks what the others have, selfishness. Always sacrificing at the expense of itself. The second soul has no patience, is full of rage and violence, and never will be quenched. The last one is full of self-pleasure however, when they merge the souls become complete, as if it was separated from the first place. What is left is a soul with rainbow colours, whole.

After the merging, it suddenly shoots off into the far distance of the void.

As the soul breaches a wall of a universe beyond light speed, the void-cosmic energy it carries shimmers and moulds around it giving the shape of a person, as a native of this universe, carrier and vessel for the soul. A vessel for the new complete soul to inhabit. By the time the soul reaches a planet made of dirt and water, the body is ready.

Under the blanket of night, people in their winter clothes can be seen walking on the pavement. Some rush home, while others walk leisurely, strolling, each heading to their desired destination. In a dimly stanched alley, the light hanging from the wall blinkering on and off, showing it passes its time for due maintenance. The dark long alley seems normal if there's not a naked man lying on his back in the middle of it.

A fresh breath can be heard, inhaling all the air with its pollution together. Chest rises and falls like waves and a pair of eyes snap open.

"Ugh…" A grunting.

Gasp.

'Where am I? Where's Darkseid? Did I succeed? Did I KILL him? Aren't I supposed to be dead?' Thinks the man.

His eyes darted around, scanning the surroundings, finding patterns, looking for potential harm and escape paths. Safe for now, reassuring himself.

As he is standing up, he tries to remember what happened, but unimaginable pain assaults his mind. Memories of not himself flashing, or is it him? No, it's not! Uncertainty creeps in.

The pain worsens, it feels like his mind is being split and dice continuously. He needs to lock his mind, a method where he limits his thought process and acts on his instincts. Instincts that are intrinsically within him, seeded with his persona.

Through finger pressure at a point on his nape. A method he learned from a Rome warrior's journal, battling with fear during a great war. It will help him stop thinking back to his memory subconsciously.

While he is reaching the back of his neck, a scene plays a memory of a rich young man, quite handsome, and physically gifted but an introverted, nerd person. Not the educational nerd but the fictional fantasy nerd. The young man's daily routine was playing games, reading comics, and web novels, face-slapping Mount Tai stories and lazing around, unmotivated to do anything. A person asked him, "Hey $*!#$%, what do you plan for your life?" to which he replied, "Nothing! The world is too boring". A spoilt waste is the perfect term for the kid.

Then the scene changes to a man of big stature, broad shoulders, half-naked wearing an ancient warrior attire shouting while pointing his blade to the sky as if he was talking to a person.

"ZEUS!!! YOUR SON HAS RETURN!"

The scene cuts off as he presses the numb point.

Ragged breath can be heard in the dim alley. The memories can be taken care of later when he is safe.

Now the priority is figuring out where he is while analysing the architecture around him, it looks quite modern, and English is the main language from the look of posters sticking on the alley's wall. By the words it used, it's similar to America, but it can't be because America is destroyed, the world is destroyed. Unless he travels back in time, which is also another impossibility because the time continuum in his universe has been destroyed by the Jokerised Darkseid.

While thinking of a conclusion, he realises he is butt-naked and in need of some clothes to cover him, he cannot be seen as a crazy man or worse, but his concentration is disturbed by a fat man walking out of the corner. The man looks rugged, walking clumsily as he crashes bins and boxes that are piled up on the wall, holding a bottle of alcohol in one of his hands. Clearly, he is drunk.

"Well, hello there, (burps) what a fine-looking man. Your thing looks great, how much is it an hour?" well, worse just happened.

"…"

"Ooh, the silent one! (burps) Come on, I'm gonna make it good. Come here, I got some change."

"… I don't do that stuff. Be on your way"

The fat man comes near him, salivating, eyes unfocused with desire and intoxication.

"Hehe, don't be afraid." The fat man said

"Move."

"Just bent a little, and it will be over in a blink" As he tries to hold the naked man's shoulder, the man slips his grasp.

BAM!

A strike, faster than he anticipated, hit the fat man's neck. His eyes rolled back as he collapsed, unconscious.

The man paused, narrowing his eyes. "That… was faster than it should have been." His mind races, assessing the strike. "This strength—I wasn't expecting it. If I'd applied any more force, his neck would've snapped."

He flexes his muscles cautiously, tensing and relaxing in a controlled rhythm. The power flowing through him like a current, stronger than it should be. "What's causing this?" he muttered under his breath. For a moment, the calm lake of his body felt like a storm—muscles rippling with an intensity he didn't recognise.

"Why do I have more muscle mass in my back and legs? I didn't target those areas for explosive training, they're not suited for my combat style, where endurance strength takes priority. With the time constraints of crime-fighting, I focused on what's efficient." He paused, noticing his height. "I've grown too, 190 centimetres to 195. This shouldn't be possible."

Looking down, his gaze sharpened as he inspected his body. "No scars. The Joker's symbol, gone. Croc's bite mark vanished. And… no pain." His hand brushed his knee socket, once a source of agony. "No torn ligaments, no stress in the tendons. Forty years of wear, erased like it never existed."

His mind raced. "Have I taken over someone else's body? No… my face is the same. The contours match. I need to run a full diagnostic back at the Batcave."

But for now, there were more pressing concerns. He needed cover.

Glancing at the unconscious man, he frowned. The only available clothes were a sweat-stained coat, jeans, and worn shoes. "Not ideal," he muttered, slipping them on. "I'll deal with it for now, or I'll have to keep moving like this."

Dragging the man near a doorway in the alley, the man ensured he wouldn't freeze before regaining consciousness. Then, without hesitation, he vanished into the shadows.

__________

Under a broad flyover highway, sounds of cars speeding and honking can be heard intermittently.

Sitting on gravel stones a man once naked is now clothed with a smartphone in his hand. The concrete above serves as an umbrella for whatever will fall from the night sky.

Never would he imagine, he of all people would steal but circumstance demands it.

The man thinks to himself, gathering his thoughts "I need to figure out what year it's now and where I am, but let's deal with the main thing first, let's see what's wrong with my mind." He presses the memory-suppressing point again.

Pain comes rushing in like water rushes out of a damp.

He gritted his teeth, veins popping from his head, blood colours his face, trying to stay conscious as memories flash rapidly. A normal man would have fainted ten times over if he experienced the same pain, but through sheer will, the man withstands it.

_________

After he sits statically for 5 hours in meditation, he opens his eyes. Centuries worth of life experiences flashed randomly inside his head. The owner of these memories must be extraordinary to live that long.

Many problems arise from this complication, one of which is his mental palace is in chaos with the memories cluttered and strewn haphazardly. His genius mental ability is also slightly hindered as some of the brain power is diverted to make his brain stable and not stray to craziness. On the bright side, at least he knows what happened, roughly.

First, he remembers clearly what happened before and the events leading to his death. Joker, the psychopath of Gotham. I should've KILL HIM! Long before. He worked together with Darkseid to get the anti-life formula, but in action they killed everybody. They murdered Clark and his family and other Justice League members. Joker then personally tortured his family, Alfred, Dick, Jason, Cassandra, Barbara and his son Damian. After killing all humans, Joker became bored and jokerise Darkseid turning him crazy and chaotic. He proceeded to kill the Joker and all living beings in the universe after getting the formula, leaving me behind as a spectator, as a joke. A mortal who wants to be alone will really be alone in an empty universe.

This is my fault, I should have choked HIM out of air and break his neck! But I'm still alive? And maybe others also are. It's possible through space-time interference. There's hope.

Second, he is Batman. No, he was Batman, because he has three different memories right now. First would be him, Batman or some called him Bruce Wayne. Second, a warrior with centuries of memories named Kratos and third, a young man from a conglomerate family called Vincent Stoneschild.

'These different memories are not like Zur-En-Arrh, the backup personality I built in case my mind is compromised. They are bigger, distinct from me yet equally part of me.

Then am I all of them? Or are their souls mixed with mine?

Either way, am I still Bruce Wayne? No. I feel different, it's like a stranger's name, a different person. It's not my name, and it's also not Kratos or Vincent. Then who am I?' He argues himself internally.

'Something must have happened when I exploded the universe, maybe it's a magical element or some cosmic interference. I need to discuss this with Zatara and John if they are still alive and research it when I'm back in the Batcave.'

Now, he needs to solve his whereabouts. Using the smartphone he took from the fat person earlier, he scours the internet for information, but as he searches more, the more confused he becomes about his situation.

<Hmm… so I'm in Glenn Ridge, New Jersey America in the year 2000, 1st of March, but there's no Justice League. Maybe this is an alternate timeline.

Let's search about Wayne enterprise…

Hmm? Nothing?

What about Gotham?

Also, Nothing.

Bruce Wayne?

Nothing. Maybe I'm not born yet.

Thomas Wayne?

Nothing. Weird.

Daily Planet?

Nothing.

Metropolis, Star City?

Zero search results.

Lex Luthor?

Nothing.

Total countries in the world?

299 countries. I know only of 250 countries.>

As he searches more, the stranger things come up. Captain America, Stark Industry, Mutants, Sokovia, Wakanda etc.

A blank in his head and a question remain.

"Where am I?"

Instead of solving the problems, he is now facing two more questions.

Where is he?

Who is he?

Confusion marks his face, then a frown, not the normal frown but Batman's frown, which is no different from his normal expression except if it is scrutinised slowly.

"What's wrong with you lad?" A voice interrupts.

The source came from an old homeless man a dozen metres away lying sideways on a flattened box spread out like a carpet, a makeshift bed but it looks comfortable.

"You've been sitting still there for 6 hours, it creeps me out. Are you crazy? Or an Alien?" The old man squeezes his eyes, trying to discern if there are any strange characteristics from the young man.

"…" As usual, not one for talking, the young man replies with a deadpan look.

"I know if you're an alien or not! What's your name?" The homeless man continues with an accusatory gaze like he will shoot lasers from it.

"…Krace." He replies.

"Oh! You're safe. If it's Mark or anything that ends with Berg, it's an alien for sure. They live among us! Believe me! I've seen it with my eyes! Those green-skinned alien kidnaps people and disguise themselves as us! CAN YOU NOT SEE! THEY CONTROL THE WORLD!" The man yells as he hides in his blanket shivering muttering nonsensical things.

Not caring further about the crazy man, he thinks to himself again, Krace. That's his new name temporarily or not? It is fitting, it doesn't have any relation with his previous name, it's just a new identity for a new person. Maybe restarting his life in a better way like more warm toward his family and friends, forgetting his old trauma and becoming better.

He rests his back against the cold concrete bridge while gazing toward the starry night filled with glittering and twinkling stars. Numerous of them, represent a galaxy for each light. His sight is blurry as it darkens, too exhausted for what happened today, now he needs some rest. He closes his eyes while pondering 'Where am I? And how will I continue to live?', a thought before sleep.

"NO!

How could I let this happen? Sleeping now... it's reckless. Since when?" Krace clenched his fists.

This isn't him. Letting his guard down in unfamiliar territory? He doesn't make mistakes like this. He's always alert. Always prepared. Paranoia has kept him alive.

'The interference… it's affecting me. Vincent's influence. Too relaxed, too trusting. The boy's a civilian, not a soldier. I need to be sharper... stay in control.'

'Now, what I need is a legal background for me to find more information and travel freely. After that, I can go find other members of the Justice League or any helping hand to return to my original universe.

I have two choices, either taking up an existing identity or making a new one. Forging fake documents requires me to make footprints to fool the government, once people investigate, it's easy to notice the loophole. Moreover, planting the pieces of evidence will take a lot of time and money, which are things that I don't possess. It's better to impersonate an existing identity of a missing person or in an accident.

To do that, I need to hack into the government database and a fast computer for me to scour through the data.

Should I steal one?

No, I have a better alternative than to resort to stealing for a quick way out. It looks like the other personality is affecting me. Vincent doesn't have any qualms with right and wrong, the kid doesn't care about doing bad things for a quick fix, I hope it doesn't push me to something worse. To take innocent lives.

It's better for me to build one that is capable of hacking the government untraceable, but it needs high-tech components. Where can I find one?' He contemplates internally while searching through the internet.

'Found one, Stark Industry Recycling Centre. Surely it will have many reusable high-tech bits for me to build a computer. It takes around an hour to walk from here.' The man gets up and begins striding toward his destination while talking to himself 'Along the way, there's bound to be some thugs hiding in the alleys. I'll take what I need from them. They won't miss it." He mutters to himself, justifying the act under the weight of necessity.