Flipping Through the Pages
Copyright© 2026 by Dragonpig
Chapter 24
The hotel suite was quiet, the soft hum of central air the only sound as steam drifted out from beneath the bathroom door. Selina Kyle stood under the rainfall showerhead, letting the heat soak into her bones. For the first time in months—maybe longer—she felt clean. Really clean. Her muscles no longer clenched in anticipation of pain. Her fingers weren’t trembling from cold or hunger. She’d eaten room service until her stomach hurt. It felt surreal.
Outside the bathroom, Ultimate Bruce Wayne stood at the window, watching the city sprawl out beneath him like a broken chessboard. “BC,” he said quietly, “put him through.”
A pause. Then a connection.
“Batman,” came the voice.
Bruce smiled faintly. “How’s your universe treating you?”
“Clean. Organized. Soft.” 47-X’s voice carried zero amusement. “You said you had something more interesting.”
Bruce turned from the window, sitting down on one of the two king-size beds. “I think I have a better fit for you in this universe. Gotham might be right up your alley.”
“I’m listening.”
“Transferring all the information I have about this world to you,” Bruce said, as images of the Alley Cats, Mark’s face, security footage BC had pulled from camera feeds and drones flowed through the connection. A data tag formed around Selina’s picture, tagged: TARGET, NOW PROTECTED.
“This universe doesn’t have a Batman,” Bruce continued. “It’s got orphans running theft rings. Kids with scars and trauma they haven’t even learned how to name yet. Mark’s got a gang of them. He calls them the Alley Cats. He’s grooming them. Selling them. Killing the ones who don’t obey. The cops won’t touch him. Most don’t even know.”
Silence flowed across the Elevation connection. Then: “How bad?”
Bruce looked toward the bathroom door. He heard the water shut off. “Bad enough I had to stop observing.”
“Which means it’s time for someone like me now,” 47-X said.
“Exactly.”
Another silent pause. “I’m in,” 47-X said.
Bruce’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Thought you might be.”
BC’s voice chimed in. “Would you like me to open a portal, Mr. Wayne?”
“Yeah,” Bruce said. “Let him see the city. Let him feel it.”
A swirling arc of blue energy lanced across the far wall. The air shimmered, pulsing with quantum distortion until a doorway opened in space itself. And then he stepped through—Batman 47-X. His eyes were hidden behind his cowl, scanning as he moved forward.
“Different air quality,” he muttered.
“Welcome to Gotham,” Bruce said.
47-X walked to the window, taking in the skyline. “How long do I have to explore?”
Bruce glanced toward the bathroom door again. Selina had emerged, wrapped in a towel, hair dripping, her eyes soft but alert as she spotted the stranger near the window.
“Long enough to get a sense of the city,” Bruce said. “She’s out of danger—for now. But Mark’s not done. And neither are we.”
Selina’s eyes flicked between the two of them. “This is your friend?”
Bruce nodded. “Selina, this is Batman.”
She crossed her arms. “You have a very scary-looking friend, Mr. Bruce.”
“Something like that,” 47-X said, not turning from the window. “This city ... doesn’t deserve what’s happening to it.”
“No,” Bruce said, his voice quiet. “But it’s going to get what it needs.”
47-X smiled faintly beneath the mask. “Good. I’m gonna go stretch my legs.”
And with that, he stepped back into the portal. “This should be interesting,” he said.
Bruce nodded once. “Don’t get killed.”
47-X’s voice drifted back. “I won’t. Not unless I’m very sloppy.”
And then he was gone, the portal flickering shut.
The cape caught the air currents, transforming into a rigid gliding surface that carried him between the skeletal remains of skyscrapers. He could maintain this flight for several minutes at a time, hovering when needed, but eventually gravity would win and he’d need to find another perch. It was enough.
From above, this Gotham looked like an infected wound. Entire city blocks sat dark and abandoned, while others pulsed with the privileged kind of life—the desperate energy of predators and prey locked in an endless dance.
A scream echoed up from an alley three blocks east. Batman 47-X adjusted his trajectory, swooping down toward the sound.
He landed silently on a fire escape, his suit’s adaptive camouflage immediately responding to the rusted metal around him. The dark fabric shifted and mottled, taking on the texture and color of corroded steel until only his outline could barely be seen.
Below, a man in his thirties had cornered an elderly woman against a brick wall. She clutched her purse with arthritic fingers while he waved a knife inches from her face.
“Just give me the money, grandma and some pussy. Nobody needs to get hurt.”
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