Multiverse: Deathstroke

Chapter 109: Ch.108 Batman's Dreamscape (Part I)

"Grandpa?"

"Huh?"

Bruce sat up from the sofa. He wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep. As people get older, they tend to get drowsy easily.

This was the study room in Wayne Manor. The elegant fireplace was roaring with flames, and despite the thunderstorm raging outside with lightning flashing and rain pouring down, the room remained warm and cozy.

He was seated on the sofa not far from the fireplace, a blanket covering his legs. On the small round table beside him, there was a half-finished glass of whiskey, shimmering under the flickering firelight.

The one who had called out to him earlier was his little granddaughter, Damian's daughter, who was four years old this year.

At this moment, the little girl was standing at the doorway to the study, wearing a white puffy dress, her hands behind her back, her large eyes staring at him.

"What's the matter, my little princess? Why aren't you playing with them?"

Outside the door, there were many children playing, laughing joyfully, engaged in some strange game. Bruce felt that he was really old now; he could no longer understand what was fun about those games.

"Grandpa, I want you to tell me a story."

"Alright, how about I tell you the story of Zorro defeating the Governor and winning the heart of the Governor's niece?"

"No, that's all made-up. I want to hear a real story." The little girl shook her head, her braids swinging in the air, a displeased expression on her face that seemed to say, "Do you still think I'm a little kid?"

"Alright, then go to the bookshelf and pick out a Batman story. I'll read it to you."

Against the wall in the study, there were dozens of tall bookshelves, all filled with records of his earlier experiences. A decade ago, he had finally locked up all the villains in the safest prison, and he was able to retire.

On the shelves were not only memoirs recording these events but also various memorabilia given to him by Gotham's government and photos with some old friends.

The little girl approached the bookshelf, her hands still behind her back, walking back and forth as she looked at the titles on the spines, as if carefully selecting something.

"But there are so many."

Bruce pinched his temples, feeling his vision blur a bit. "That's why I needed to write them all down. But even so, half of them contradict each other and don't connect. But I promise you, they're all true."

He lifted the blanket off his legs, spreading his arms with a smile, his expression full of kindness.

He was old now, just a retired old man.

The little girl swiftly ran to his side, climbing onto his lap with practiced ease, using her tiny pink hands to pull the blanket up to cover her own little belly as well.

She handed the book she had chosen to Bruce. He took it and noticed the title was *The Mystery of the Chemical Company*. This was the beginning of it all.

"Grandpa, I want to hear this one!"

Bruce's gaze naturally followed, drawn to the photos accompanying the text. The memories surged forth; this was his first case in Gotham as Batman.

"Strange, I don't remember the story starting like this..."

"Don't be silly, Grandpa. It did start this way."

The little girl clung to his neck, her eyes fixed on the book, whispering softly in his ear.

"Ah, yes. What was I thinking? Sorry, it all started with that window."

He smiled, patting the girl's head, then lifted the book again.

Everything began with a window and a scream.

"Come out, I know you're there!" A young man holding a gun shakily aimed at the darkness in the corner of the room.

A Batarang flew from another corner, knocking the gun out of his hand.

"I've been here for a while. Returning to the crime scene is never a good idea for someone like you."

A young Bruce stepped out from the shadows, wearing his old-fashioned costume, the one he didn't particularly like, with the blue and gray color scheme.

"Who are you?" The man clutched his injured wrist, staring at Bruce in terror. In his eyes, there was only a bat-shaped figure.

"I'm here to help," Bruce replied coldly. This man was already terrified, so Bruce judged that whatever he said next would be the truth.

"You're just like those cops. You think I killed my father, don't you?!"

"No, we're not the same," Batman denied calmly. The man's fear wouldn't soften his heart. "Your father was already dead. You just pulled out the knife stuck in his chest, leaving your fingerprints on it."

"I didn't kill him! I saw a shadow outside the window! I wanted to save him!"

Batman said nothing, slowly approaching the window. When the human heart is pierced, if the knife isn't pulled out, the person might live for a few more seconds. But once it's removed, there's a massive blood loss, resulting in instant death.

However, this man clearly didn't have the courage to kill his father. There was no need to explain this knowledge.

Batman leaned closer to the glass. It was covered with dense bloodstains, creating a strange pattern on the other side of the glass.

"It's the birds. They often crash into this window for no reason," the man explained, answering Batman's confusion.

"These bloodstains... they're unusual."

"These bloodstains... are wrong." Bruce, sitting on the sofa, rubbed his temples. He stopped flipping through the book, and the scene paused at the window.

"There's nothing wrong with them, Grandpa. Keep reading. There's always blood there."

His little granddaughter, Janet, shook herself, acting cute to get him to continue.

He looked at her kindly, smiled, and continued turning the pages of the book.

But the story changed. He saw the ruined Earth, himself wearing a fur apron, standing on a hillside.

Below the hill, a group of people wearing bat masks were fighting against another group dressed like birds. It was a war.

A strange white-haired woman appeared behind him, explaining that this was his origin.

This was the war between bats and birds, a conflict spanning human history. The bats wielded strange metals to defeat the birds.

The birds symbolized reincarnation, and the bats would put an end to it.

"This is all fake."

The animal skin on Bruce's body suddenly turned into his bat suit. He watched the people from the bat tribe bowing to him. It was all clear, but his rational mind knew it was fake.

He seemed to remember that he was trapped somewhere and needed to find a way out.

The book in his hand turned another page, and the story returned to Gotham.

Yes, it was still the same case. The murderer was the dead man's partner. After killing him, he framed the son so he could monopolize the chemical company.

In the picture, Batman and Gordon were trapped under a massive glass dome that had descended from above. The murderer planned to suck out the air to kill them.

Batman took out his Bat-Diamond Glass Cutter and cut through the dome. The fat criminal climbed a ladder, trying to escape.

Bruce gave chase, but beside the ladder going up, another ladder appeared, leading underground.

"I don't want to tell this story anymore, Janet."

"Why, Grandpa?"

"I need to find a way up, or a window..."

"No, Grandpa, you need to climb down that ladder, now!"