"Can you slow down, please… ughh, I'm getting dizzy," Selina muttered, clutching tightly to me.
"Just close your eyes," I said quietly.
It wasn't easy for me either, carrying her around and jumping from building to building. Her weight was nothing, but the smell—God, the smell. I had no idea when she last bathed, but it was strong enough to make my stomach turn. Still, I kept my focus on reaching the Monarch Theatre.
As I crossed a warehouse roof, my super-hearing picked up something dangerous.
I glanced down with X-ray vision and saw a whole crew of armed men. Guns, rifles, even bombs—enough firepower to tear the block apart. From their voices, they were gearing up for a gang war with a rival gang.
I could stop muggings, assaults, even murders… but a gang war? Not without exposing myself completely. Sure, I could take them all down stealthily, but it would burn too much time—and I was already running late.
Hopefully, they would just finish each other off.
I pushed the thought aside and pressed on until the Monarch Theatre finally came into view.
The place was glowing with lights, the front plastered with posters of Thomas Wayne. He was running for mayor, and this was clearly another play for publicity.
In fact after stopping a couple of crimes earlier this evening, I had tracked this theater down quickly. As my primary mission here was clear: the Waynes. A quick scan with my X-ray vision had confirmed them inside, seated comfortably among Gotham's wealthy, the film was also just beginning.
I didn't stop there. I had proceeded to map out the entire building, checking exits and routes with my X-ray vision. The front doors were packed with reporters, cameras flashing like a wall of light. Two other exits remained: one spilled into a row of shops, and the older side door led into a narrow alley. Either way, you had to loop around to reach the parking lot in the back, where the cars were kept.
I had noticed how this looked more like an old legacy theater, so it didn't have many cameras or underground parking for that matter.
Which was why it was pretty easy for me to tag the side alley as the future scene of the crime. I had then chosen to wait for the right moment on the roof of the building overlooking the alley.
But this was Gotham, and Gotham didn't give me peace. My super-hearing and X-ray vision kept dragging me into mess after mess. One mugging, one assault, one robbery after another—it never stopped.
I tried to circle back, to stay close enough to the theater so I could keep an eye on the Waynes through my vision, but every time I blinked, another crime pulled me further away.
Still, I had kept my eyes on my plastic watch. As generally, the Waynes' death went down around 10:47 p.m. in most canon continuities. But obviously that may not be the case here—this was an AU after all—so I got here as early as I could, not wanting to take any chances.
"Ughh… if my stomach wasn't empty, I would have puked all over you by now," Selina groaned, wobbling as she tried to get her bearings after I set her down on the rooftop I had scouted before.
I ignored her and scanned the theater again. The Waynes were still watching the movie.
Thomas Wayne sat upright, a well-built man in a sharp black suit with his signature mustache. Beside him was Bruce—same dark hair and blue eyes as his old man, just a smaller, scrawnier version. He might have been my age, but he only looked a little taller than Selina, nowhere close to my height. The kid looked restless, glancing around instead of watching the screen.
Next to him was Martha Wayne. And damn… she was remarkable. Even just sitting there, she had this glow about her. A brunette bombshell, red lipstick popping, her iconic pearl necklace gleaming. A quick X-ray scan of her fit, sexy body made me grit my teeth—I was jealous of Thomas, and yeah, weirdly of Bruce too.
"Hey, what are we even doing here? And what the hell are you staring at?" Selina asked, standing next to me, peeking down into the empty alley.
"Selina, for the next few minutes I need you completely quiet. No questions, no bullshit. Can you do that for me?" I asked, meeting her eyes, my tone dead serious.
She froze. When she'd pulled my scarf earlier, I had yanked it back up right away, so she still wasn't sure what I was. She knew I wasn't normal, but not that I was just a kid. Right now, that uncertainty had her spooked.
"…Yes," she finally muttered, stepping back a couple of paces and going quiet.
I shifted my attention back to the matter at hand. Honestly, I had been so worried about missing my chance and letting the Waynes die, just because I was off stopping some theft in another part of Gotham, that I felt quite relieved to see them still safe.
The timing I had aimed for might not even be canon in this Alternate Universe. In fact, maybe this whole Crime Alley incident—the one that ended with the murder of Bruce Wayne's family—might not even happen at all in this jumbled-up world.
And honestly? That would be nice. Because then I wouldn't have to think about the consequences of interfering with the origin story of Batman.
Even after I had "resolved myself," the debate in my head hadn't gone quiet. If I saved this kid's parents and gave him a better life… could that turn out to be one of my worst decisions?
Shit. I always hated those characters in stories who talked about sacrificing the few for the many, "all for the greater good." But now? I was starting to understand their logic. And that just made me hate myself more—for even thinking like that.
I scanned the area again, keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious, anyone carrying a weapon. And yeah, there were plenty. In fact, there were a surprising number of people inside the theater with guns. Which shouldn't have shocked me, as in hindsight—this was America, and worse, this was Gotham.
Then, looking down into the alley, I spotted him. A middle-aged man lighting up a cigarette, a revolver tucked inside his pocket. My eyes narrowed. Was this guy the culprit? Joe Chill?
Just as I was wondering that—and just as Selina was starting to look bored—I noticed Bruce lean over and whisper something to his father. Thomas gave him a small nod, then stood up. Bruce followed, and then Martha rose with them. The people around them shifted to give them space, and the three of them finally stepped toward the exit, heading straight into the alley.
Now I could see them without relying on X-ray. And when I checked my plastic watch again, it was already 10:46.
The Waynes walked out, oblivious... having no idea how dark, this night was about to turn for them.
— (POV shift) —
"Bruce baby, are you alright?" Martha asked gently as soon as they left the theater and stepped into the alley.
"No, no—it wasn't him. I just wanted some fresh air. Theaters can be so stuffy, right Bruce?" Thomas said with a smile, winking at his son.
Bruce nodded faintly, returning the smile.
"Let's just head to the parking lot and go home," Thomas added, walking ahead while fastening his suit jacket.
Martha, sensing it must have been Bruce who wasn't feeling well, kept him close to her side, rubbing his arm in comfort.
The family of three started down the dim alleyway—when a silhouette appeared. A man, head bowed, shuffled toward them from the opposite end.
Seeing the shadowy figure, Thomas, towering and broad-shouldered, instinctively stepped in front of Martha and Bruce, shielding them as they continued walking.
— (POV shift ends) —
"Oh, these people are about to get robbed," Selina muttered beside me, watching the scene with curiosity.
Me? I couldn't even hear her. My entire focus was locked on the family below.
The man approaching them didn't look right. His breaths came ragged and shallow, his hands trembled. His clothes were filthy, his beard unkempt. At a glance he looked like a beggar.
I scanned him through X-ray again: nothing but a revolver, a lighter and some cigarettes—no phone, no wallet, nothing else. If I had spotted a roll of bills, a note or anything similar, I could have ruled this as someone paying him off for this job. But no—was this really just a robbery gone wrong then?
The man—Joe Chill, as I had already labelled him for convenience—was gripping the revolver in his pocket. Even from up here I could hear his laboured breathing, almost feel the jitter in his pulse as his heartbeat spiked.
Thomas Wayne had clearly noticed, too. His posture shifted, broad frame shielding both Martha and Bruce as the distance between them closed.
Just as Joe drew near, he yanked out his revolver and leveled it at Thomas's chest.
"Wallet! Jewellery! Come on—fast!" he barked, the gun trembling in his hand.
Each of them reacted differently. Martha instantly pulled Bruce tight against her. Thomas, already a step ahead, spread his arms in front of them. Bruce, peeking out from the side, could only stare at the muzzle of the revolver—shaking, pale, frozen in shock.
And me? I expected the sight of a gun to shake me, but I felt nothing. Through X-ray vision I could see the revolver's internals, the chamber, the round already sitting there. I could even hear Joe's frantic heartbeat hammering in his chest.
Maybe deep down I already knew—that weapon could never harm me. The confidence was alien, but it felt… natural. Meditation, training, realizing the sheer scope of my power—maybe all of it had been reshaping me, without my notice.
For me, that revolver might as well have been a toy. For the Waynes, it was the Grim Reaper.
"That's fine, take it easy," Thomas said, raising his hands in a calm, placating gesture.
"Hurry up!" the mugger snapped, waving the gun erratically.
"It's okay. Take it." Thomas slipped out his wallet, offering it forward. Joe snatched at it—but in his panic, it slipped and fell between them.
Thomas remained steady. "It's fine. Just take it."
Still pointing the gun, Joe crouched down, fumbling for the wallet. His other hand closed around it, and he shoved it hastily into his pocket.
"Now just take it and go," Thomas urged, still composed.
But Joe's eyes trailed past him. Past Thomas's broad frame, down to Martha—where the pearl necklace around her collarbone glimmered faintly in the dark alley.
"I said jewellery too," he growled, swinging the gun toward her.
"Hey—" Thomas started forward, protective.
And in that instant Joe panicked.
I saw it—the spike in his heartbeat, the contraction of his pupils—everything firing at once inside him. This was the moment I had been waiting for, I leapt—shoving off the building ledge and dropping straight into the alley. In less than a blink I was beside Thomas and Joe.
By the time I hit the ground beside them, Joe had already pulled the trigger. The bullet was out of the muzzle, tearing through the air—
But I raised my hand, sliding it between the revolver and Thomas's chest.
BANG!
It was barely a sting as the round buried itself in my palm.
"Huh?" I could hear Selina's gasp from above. The Waynes were frozen, stunned. Even Joe looked shocked, as though he had no idea what he was seeing.
That heartbeat of disbelief was all I needed. I seized Joe's wrist, twisting the gun aside—and then applied just a little pressure.
CRACK!
His wrist snapped like a twig. The revolver clattered to the ground.
"ARGH—!" His scream barely escaped before I yanked him down and struck.
SLAP!
My palm crashed across his jaw, as I tried my best to soften the blow. Through X-ray I saw a few of his teeth shatter, his skull rattling under the impact, but somehow he stayed conscious.
SLAP!
Another blow, a tiny bit harder. More teeth went flying. This time his eyes rolled back, his body limp as he finally collapsed unconscious onto the ground.
I let him fall, his broken form sprawled in the filth of the alley. Then I turned my gaze back to the Waynes.
Thomas had his arm stretched protectively in front of Martha and Bruce, his face tight, eyes wary, keeping distance from me. Martha's expression was caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. Bruce… he just stood there, frozen in shock, his small frame stiff, eyes wide yet strangely hollow.
I had been half-expecting a surprised Pikachu face from the future Batman, but I guess that was asking too much.
Our blue eyes met for a heartbeat. And I knew there was no point in lingering.
Instead of leaping straight up, I sprinted toward the opposite exit of the alley.
"Wait—at least tell us your name!" Thomas's voice carried after me, but I didn't stop. I turned the corner and vaulted onto the roof.
As I quickly returned beside Selina. She flinched back, eyes wide. "What the fuck…" she muttered, disbelief written all over her face.
I ignored her and looked down into the alley one last time.
The future had shifted. There was no street scattered with pearls, no small boy kneeling in grief between his parents' corpses, swallowed by the dark.
The necklace still hung unbroken around Martha's neck. And Bruce—was wrapped tightly in the embrace of both his parents.
A lump formed in my throat. I couldn't stop myself from whispering, almost to the dark night itself:
"Goodbye, Batman."