original

DC: Jojo's Bizzare Adventure

Chương 1: Origin

So, most of my stories, are long enough to reach around 4x the amount of chapters they have but I make each chapter 4k words...I'm planning on reducing that but instead spreading the word, to get more readers. So faster chapters for you guys. -Auther

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4:00 PM, deep beneath the ancient halls of Wayne Manor, the low hum of machinery and the soft glow of monitors filled the Batcave. Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth, ever the dedicated butler and companion, stood beside Bruce Thomas Wayne, his eyes carefully studying his master's expression. The air was thick with tension, broken only by Alfred's calm, slightly amused voice.

"Master Bruce… while I've long advised you to consider expanding the family," Alfred began with his usual dry wit, "I didn't quite mean it in this way." His eyebrow arched, balancing the humor with genuine concern as he glanced toward the hidden room in front of them.

Behind a pane of reinforced glass, cleverly disguised as a wall, a young boy sat in a lavish, well-furnished room. The child had messy blonde hair that seemed almost untamed, and his piercing red eyes gave him an otherworldly look, strikingly out of place in such a setting. Despite his malnourished frame, there was a brightness to him—an unsettling contentment, as if he didn't belong to the same reality. The boy sat calmly, engrossed in a book far too large for his small hands.

Bruce's voice, always measured and low, cut through the silence. "I'm not one to act impulsively, Alfred. This one…" His eyes darkened, the weight of his decision evident in his tone. "This one is a special case."

Alfred, now frowning, leaned in slightly to observe more closely. His practiced eye caught the subtle movement beside the boy—a glass of juice, slowly levitating to the child's lips, then gently setting back down on the table beside him. The butler blinked, suppressing his surprise. "Oh, dear. If he's reading…" Alfred's voice trailed off with an air of incredulity, "…who's moving that cup?" He asked though the question was rhetorical.

Bruce turned to him, eyes shadowed with calculation. "Exactly."

Alfred stood upright, processing what he'd just witnessed. "So, this is why you went out today? And here I was beginning to believe you'd developed a fondness for sunlight." His familiar jest couldn't hide the seriousness creeping into his tone. Master Bruce was spending far too much time in the shadows again.

Bruce's eyes lingered on the boy, expression unreadable. "I found him in the slums. The darker parts of Gotham." His voice was even, though the words carried a certain heaviness. "Another orphan, like so many others. But this one… didn't quite fit the mold. The orphanage didn't feel right for him—he wouldn't last there." His gaze sharpened, mind running through every detail. "And then I noticed his abilities. He wasn't surprised by what he could do, meaning he'd had these powers since birth. When I approached him, he didn't even flinch. Not from me… and not from Batman."

Alfred's lips quirked into a thin smile, though his eyes betrayed his concern. "Well, in fairness, the billboards with your face likely didn't reach those parts of town." Alfred's humor came easily, though it was more than just a deflection—it was the bond between the two men, one forged over years of tragedy and loyalty.

Bruce ignored the jab, though his silence spoke volumes. He produced a photograph from beneath his cloak, handing it over to Alfred. "He did this," Bruce said flatly.

Alfred's eyes widened as he examined the image: the iconic Batmobile, its durable frame—the toughest vehicle on Earth, reinforced beyond comprehension—now scarred with two deep craters. "I assume there was a rather violent exchange?" Alfred asked, his tone growing more serious.

Bruce shook his head. "No. It wasn't a fight. I simply asked him to get in the car. He refused."

Alfred blinked again, struggling to keep the incredulity from his voice. "And you were driving around as… the Bat?" he asked, knowing Bruce's taste for theatrics.

Bruce nodded, entirely unphased.

"...Well, then," Alfred sighed, glancing back at the child. "Do go on."

Bruce stepped closer to the glass, his expression now hardening with the weight of responsibility. "I've decided to take him in. For now. Temporarily," he clarified, though his voice held an edge of uncertainty. "If he shows any destructive tendencies, he stays here. Contained. For everyone's safety."

Alfred's eyes softened. He could sense Bruce's unspoken conflict. This wasn't just a case of protection—it was deeper, something personal. It reminded him of a younger Bruce, struggling with his darkness. "I see…"

Alfred paused, the subtle realization dawning on him. A child, alone in the world. Bruce, taking him in. This was likely the closest his master would come to fatherhood. "I'll make the necessary arrangements, sir," Alfred said, his voice filled with quiet understanding.

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[Auther: Yo! I'mma love this story, as well! I'm actually growing a bit of social life and have to discard my anti-social social club for now...so only like 3 chapters a week, sorry!]