Chương 4: I Wanna Go To School.
I'll show its stats later.
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The silence in the luxurious car was heavy as the city of Gotham blurred by outside. Jorno sat in the backseat of the limo, perfectly still, his gaze unfocused as he stared out of the window. He didn't fidget, didn't move—his body was a picture of stillness that bordered on unnatural. Bruce Wayne sat beside him, his expression neutral, while Alfred Pennyworth kept his eyes on the road, glancing occasionally in the rearview mirror.
"Would you like to go here?" Alfred asked, his tone polite but warm, as they passed by an old but prestigious school. He pointed out the window, knowing this would be an important step for any child.
Jorno turned his head slightly, his eyes barely registering the building. A school. How boring. The thought of sitting in a classroom filled with children seemed pointless, even suffocating.
"No, sir," Jorno replied, his voice soft yet distant, as if the idea barely even touched his mind. Alfred sighed inwardly. He was beginning to grow tired of the constant "sir." The boy never used their names, never asked questions, never challenged anything. It was like he was drifting through the world, untouched by any of it.
Bruce, however, remained unaffected. It had been fifteen days since Jorno had been brought to Wayne Manor, and despite Bruce's best efforts to get him to engage with the city, Jorno remained emotionally distant, showing no interest in Gotham's streets, landmarks, or even the Batcave. When he was first taken to the upper levels of the Batcave, there had been no curiosity, no fear, no excitement.
Nothing.
It was as if the mysteries of the world had no hold on him. Bruce, always the detective, found it troubling. The boy didn't register on any official records, but what worried Bruce more was the blankness in Jorno's eyes—like he was cut off from his own past.
"Back to the manor, then," Bruce said quietly, his mind elsewhere.
The limo drove on, leaving the noise of the city behind as they approached Wayne Island and the towering silhouette of Wayne Manor. The car came to a smooth stop in front of the grand entrance, and Alfred turned to face Jorno.
"Master Wayne and I will be attending a gala this evening," Alfred said, his voice friendly. "You'll have the manor to yourself for the night. But don't worry—the security system will keep you safe."
Jorno nodded, the words barely registering as he exited the car. He walked through the grand doors, making his way back to his room in the vast, empty manor. The loneliness didn't seem to bother him; in fact, he preferred it.
Inside his room, Jorno paused in front of a tall mirror, catching sight of his reflection. He almost didn't recognize himself—his hair neatly combed, his clothes pristine and expensive. He looked like someone else. Someone he didn't want to be. Reaching up, he ran his fingers through his hair, messing it back into its familiar, unkempt state. His face, once clear and proper, now felt like his own again. This was better.
Meanwhile, In the Limo
As the car glided away from Wayne Manor and back toward the city, Alfred glanced at Bruce, his tone more critical now that they were alone. "Really, a gala, Master Bruce?" he said, arching an eyebrow. "I'm not sure lying to children is quite your style."
Bruce's eyes stayed on the road ahead, but there was a flicker of thought behind them. "I do plan on attending," he said, lifting an ornate invitation from his pocket. It was a charity gala honoring a fallen World War I soldier—a name long forgotten by most.
Steve Trevor.
Bruce had arranged the gala himself, carefully crafting it as a tribute to a man very few people cared to remember. But that wasn't the reason Bruce was going. His eyes lingered on an old, faded photograph from the war, one he'd come across years ago. It showed Steve Trevor alongside a striking, lone woman.
Diana Prince.
She was still alive. Still as young and radiant as she had been in 1984, or even in the photographs from World War I. Bruce's analytical mind couldn't let go of the questions that plagued him. How was it possible? And more importantly—would she come?
If she did, Bruce needed only a moment to confirm his suspicions. And if his suspicions were right, then Diana would be more than just an ally—she could be a key figure in the fight against The Enemy.
He needed to know.
Back at Wayne Manor
Back in his room, Jorno sat once again with his journal, scribbling down notes as he read a book from the expansive library Bruce had made available to him. His concentration was unbroken, his face calm as ever. To anyone watching, it would seem like nothing was out of the ordinary.
But if someone could see beyond the visible spectrum, they would notice something else in the room.
Sitting next to Jorno was a strange figure—an ethereal presence. It resembled a human male, but its form was crystalline, the skin appearing like solid, translucent stone. A crown of crystal adorned its head, and it shimmered faintly in the dim light of the room. The figure's features were serene, its body perfectly still, as if awaiting Jorno's command.
"Water, please," Jorno said softly, his eyes never leaving his book.
Without a word, the crystalline figure obeyed. It reached out with an arm that shimmered like glass, grasping the nearby cup of water and gently handing it to Jorno. The boy took the cup as if this was the most natural thing in the world and drank slowly, his expression unchanged.
The glassy figure remained by his side, its presence unnoticed by all but Jorno.
In the Batcave
Later that night, Bruce and Alfred stood in the Batcave, the glow of the monitors illuminating their faces. Bruce was deep in thought, still turning over the many possibilities in his mind.
"You've done well with him, sir," Alfred said quietly. "He's opening up to you, even if it doesn't seem like it."
Bruce's eyes were distant, still processing the evening's events. "He's not like other children," Bruce said, his voice low. "I'm still trying to figure out what his connection is to all of this."
Alfred glanced at the screen, where a scan of Victor Stone's file was still displayed. "I understand you're preparing for something larger, but—" Alfred hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "—Jorno is not just a tool for this war."
Bruce's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He knew Alfred was right. But in the face of what was coming, morality had to take a backseat to survival. The stakes were too high.
"We'll see what happens next," Bruce finally said, his tone clipped. He turned his back to the screen, his mind already shifting to the next piece of the puzzle—Diana Prince, and what her reappearance might mean for the war against The Enemy.
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[Auther: The Enemy is what Bruce calls the upcoming threat, since he doesn't know what Apocalypse is.]
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