The Price of Valor
The world, for sixteen-year-old Alex Chen, had always been a kaleidoscope of muted colors. He was a quiet, bookish kid in New York City, a background character in his own life. He was the type to read Homer's The Odyssey at the New York Public Library, dreaming of heroes but never expecting to be one.
That changed on a cold, drizzly Tuesday afternoon at the corner of 5th Avenue and 42nd Street.
The scream was a pure, raw sound of terror, instantly silencing the city's din. A little girl, perhaps seven, had chased her bright balloon into the path of an oncoming delivery truck. The driver, momentarily blinded and driving too fast, had locked the brakes, the screech of tires failing to stop the massive steel block hurtling forward.
Alex didn't think. He didn't calculate. His body moved on instinct, fueled by the primal, selfless urge to protect the innocent. He dropped his book, sprinted onto the slick asphalt, and with a desperate lunge, shoved the little girl clear onto the curb. She was safe, a splash of red raincoat against the gray concrete.
Alex, however, was in the truck's path.
There was a horrific, sickening crunch, a blinding flash of white-hot pain that consumed him entirely, and then... silence. Darkness. Oblivion.
The Astral Tribunal
Alex floated in a silent, endless expanse of purple and gold light. He was pure consciousness, a flicker of awareness against a cosmic void. He felt no fear, only a strange, profound sense of quiet closure.
"Such valor. Such complete and utter selflessness. A life offered without hesitation for one you did not know. A perfect, untainted act of sacrifice."
The voice didn't just speak; it resonated in the space where his soul resided, ancient and powerful, like the sound of a billion galaxies humming in unison.
Before him, the light condensed and solidified into a colossal figure. It was pure energy shaped into a vaguely humanoid form, its presence so vast and deep it contained the history of time. This was a being of fundamental existence, the one who oversees the karmic ledger of all realities—the True Cosmic Weaver.
"The boy lives, saved by your passing. Your final act created a ripple of powerful, untainted Karma in the higher dimensional fabric of existence," the entity explained. "For this singular, unrepeatable act, you have earned a unique reward. Two gifts, drawn from the deepest wells of potential within the Multiverse itself. Choose wisely, young hero."
Alex's soul, the silent dreamer who loved comics and anime, was ecstatic. 'This is it. My chance for a new life, a heroic life, armed for the challenges to come.'
His choices were immediate, forged from a lifetime of dreaming of power that could truly save the day.
"I have my choices," Alex projected, his soul-voice vibrating with newfound certainty.
"Speak them."
"For my first wish," Alex stated firmly, "I want to be reborn with the complete and unadulterated bloodline of the Ancient Primordial Saiyans."
He specified the scope, wanting the absolute best. "I want the original, true Saiyan lineage—the one that grants the ultimate potential: the ability to transcend all limits, to achieve the ultimate evolutionary state, the warrior bloodline that knows no ceiling."
The cosmic entity pulsed with immense golden light. "A choice for boundless, righteous power. Granted. The Ancient Saiyan potential shall be woven into your very soul-strand."
"And for my second wish," Alex continued, his mind moving from pure power to the ultimate arsenal. "I want the Gate of Babylon."
He defined the ultimate version of the legendary treasury. "I want the Gate of Babylon to be a True, Complete Noble Phantasm. It must contain every single Noble Phantasm, Divine Construct, and Conceptual Weapon that has ever existed, will ever exist, or could potentially exist in all alternate realities—past, present, and future. Not copies, but the true original artifacts, including even those that are lost, theorized, or yet to be created."
This wish was met with a momentary silence, a flickering of the cosmic energy.
"To possess the complete treasury of creation's armaments... that is a power that can challenge the Multiverse itself, a collection of absolute concepts. Your Karmic balance is truly powerful to compel this fulfillment. Granted."
The entity wrapped Alex's ethereal form in a cocoon of searing golden energy.
"Your destiny is set. You will be reborn into the Mixed Reality Universe, a turbulent nexus where the lore of Marvel and DC collide. A place of heroes, gods, and unimaginable peril. You shall be reborn into a family destined for greatness and tragedy."
"Go forth, Alex Chen. Your death was noble; your rebirth will be legendary. What you become is entirely up to you."
With a final, blinding cosmic explosion, Alex's consciousness was hurled into the vortex of rebirth.
Born in Gotham: The Waynes' Twins
The next sensation Alex experienced was overwhelming: cold air, blinding light, and crushing pressure. He was a tiny, fragile being—a baby. He screamed, a raw, primal sound, yet one with an unnatural strength that cut through the sterile room.
He opened his eyes. They were a vivid, startling emerald green, glowing faintly against the pale skin of a newborn.
His first focus was a woman's face—beautiful, exhausted, with raven hair streaked with sweat, but alight with profound love.
"Oh, my little fighters," she whispered, her voice husky with emotion. "You're both here. You're both safe."
A doctor's voice, efficient and hurried, spoke up. "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Wayne! Two healthy, strong boys! Fraternal twins. The first one out," the doctor said, holding up a second, darker-haired infant swaddled in blue, "is Bruce, and the second one," referring to Alex, who was currently squalling in the nurse's arms, "is Alex."
The man standing beside the bed, tall and impeccably dressed, though his suit was now rumpled with stress, was focused entirely on his wife. "They're perfect, Martha," the man, Thomas Wayne, murmured. "Absolutely perfect."
Martha... Thomas... Bruce...
The names slammed into Alex's reborn consciousness like a physical blow. 'Bruce Wayne. I am Bruce Wayne's twin brother. I'm Alex Wayne.'
He was in Gotham City. He was a son of one of the most famous, and tragically fated, families in the entire Multiverse.
The immediate, terrifying reality of the future tragedy—Crime Alley—caused a tiny, involuntary surge of power within him. Deep in his infant Saiyan genetic code, a spark of golden Ki flared and was instantly suppressed by the limitations of his tiny body.
In the nascent, dimensional fold of his soul, the Gate of Babylon shimmered—an infinite, silent gold rift, awaiting his command.
'No,' Alex thought, his infant mind working at an adult speed. 'No pearl necklace. No alley. No death. I have the power to stop it, but I'm a baby. I need to grow up. I need to be ready.'
He felt the warmth of his mother's arms as he was finally placed next to his brother, Bruce. Bruce, even as a tiny infant, had a look of solemn focus. Alex, next to him, looked like a tiny, focused warrior with unnaturally bright green eyes.
The immense responsibility settled on Alex's small chest. He was a Primordial Saiyan with the greatest arsenal in history, and he was currently sharing a crib with the boy destined to become the Batman. He was his brother's keeper, armed with the power to change the world, starting with his own tragic family history.