Flipping Through the Pages
Copyright© 2026 by Dragonpig
Chapter 4
The portal closed behind him with a gentle flicker. Ultimate Bruce Wayne stood on a sidewalk beneath an early morning sky. He took a slow step forward, scanning the unfamiliar streets of this Gotham City.
A movement drew his gaze upward. High above the skyline, a lithe figure leaped across rooftops — with the unmistakable grace of Catwoman. He watched her land, roll, and vanish down a fire escape.
Even here, he thought. She is around.
Then he heard it — not the cry of the innocent, not the clash of criminals — but something deeper. Angrier. Human.
A mob.
He moved toward the sound. People poured into the streets — mothers, fathers, neighbors — wielding bats, hammers, and torches. Rage unified them. One name echoed through their voices: Freddie.
Ultimate Bruce sub-vocalized to the Batcomputer embedded in his elevation tech — an advanced system capable of accessing any database or network. “Give me information on what’s happening with this crowd.”
The Batcomputer responded at once. “People in this Gotham are targeting an individual named Cougar Freddie — a known serial killer and pedophile who has murdered children for years. He’s evaded justice repeatedly due to his mother’s influence. She’s a high-ranking judge with deep political connections. This is the twentieth time he’s been set free.”
They want justice, Bruce thought. No ... they want closure.
And they were going to get it — by burning Freddie alive in the same house where he once lured children to their deaths.
“Computer, does this universe Batman share my philosophy?” Bruce asked.
“Based on current records and past activity,” the Batcomputer replied, “his methods align with yours by 99.9% — prior to your abandonment of the mantle.”
He knew what needed to be done. By the time he reached the Batcave, the Batman of this universe — noble, idealistic, so much like his former self — was already preparing to save Gotham from itself. At least, that’s what he believed.
“You’re going to stop them,” Bruce said from the shadows.
The other Batman didn’t flinch. He stood at the center of the cave, mid-suited.
“I have to,” he said, sliding the cowl into place. “They’re about to commit murder.”
Bruce stepped forward. “They’re about to take back the power your system denied them.”
“That’s not justice.”
“No,” Bruce admitted. “But it is a consequence.”
Silence fell over the cave.
Batman turned toward him, eyes narrowing behind opaque lenses. “You think I should let them burn him?”
“I think,” Bruce said slowly, “that you won’t stop him. You can’t. You’ve tried. Over and over. And every time, he slips through.”
“I won’t kill him.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Bruce stepped into his path. “I’m asking you not to save him.”
Batman stared at him like he’d spoken a foreign language. “That’s the same as killing him.”
“No,” Bruce said. “It’s letting the world correct a mistake it can’t afford to keep making.”
A moment passed — fragile as eggshell. For a heartbeat, the other Bruce considered it. Then he shoved past his multiverse counterpart.
“I won’t let it happen.”
Bruce sighed. So be it.
The fight was inevitable. It was precise. Brutal. Neither man held back. Each blow was a declaration — of belief, of trauma, of loss turned kinetic.
They fought like mirrored opposites — one in a sleek Batsuit, the other in a sharply tailored business suit. Bruce blocked a roundhouse kick to the head and countered with a sweeping leg strike that sent Batman crashing into a workbench.
“I’m not doing this because I don’t believe in what you believe,” Bruce said between gasps. “I’m doing it because I believe in the world we protect. And right now, protecting that monster means betraying it.”
The Batman rose, face bloodied. “You’re justifying a murder.”
“I’m preventing several,” Bruce shot back. “Ones he will commit.”
“You don’t know that. You can’t see the future.”
“Come on, Batman. Don’t be naïve. This isn’t a prophecy. It’s probability. And probability has made one thing clear — Freddie won’t stop. This is what he does. This is who he is.”
They clashed again. Fists met armor. Feet struck ribs. But Bruce had one advantage: experience. Not just in combat — in pain. He knew when to break, when to hold, when to stall.
And that was all he needed — time.
The low digital voice of the bat computer interrupted the fight. “Fire engines and ambulances dispatched to 1428 Elm Street. House in flames. Recently released F. Kruger believed to be trapped inside.”
Both men froze, chests heaving.
Batman turned toward the exit. Bruce didn’t stop him.
They arrived at the fire. The house was already engulfed. Around it stood the mob — not shouting, not celebrating — just silent, as if something distasteful but necessary was finally done.
Batman dropped to his knees.
Bruce stood beside him, watching the fire consume what remained of Freddie Kruger.
“He’s gone,” Batman whispered. “You let it happen.”
“I didn’t save him,” Bruce replied. “There’s a difference.”
Batman looked up, eyes hollow.
“She’ll mourn him,” Bruce added. “That mother. Just like these parents mourn their children. The world won’t make sense of this. Maybe it’s not supposed to.”
“I won’t ever become you,” Batman said.
“I hope not,” Ultimate Bruce Wayne replied. “But one day, you’ll face something you can’t solve with the rules. And you’ll remember this.”
He turned away.
Walking back into a city where, at long last, a monster had finally been stopped.
The Batmobile’s engine roared through the night, its obsidian frame cutting through Gotham’s darkness like a shark’s fin through the water. Batman’s gloved hands gripped the steering wheel with practiced precision as he pursued Black Mask’s armored vehicle through the rain-slicked streets. The criminal kingpin had orchestrated a daring heist at Gotham National Bank, but as always, he had underestimated the city’s protector. Batman’s eyes narrowed behind his cowl as he activated the Batmobile’s afterburners, closing the gap between them with ruthless efficiency.
“Computer, I need a shortcut,” Batman commanded into his comms. The AI voice crackled through the speaker. “Take the next right. It will lead you to Kane Boulevard. You can intercept him at the intersection.” Without hesitation, Batman wrenched the wheel, sending the tank-looking vehicle into a controlled drift around the corner. The maneuver shaved precious seconds off his pursuit, allowing him to emerge directly in Black Mask’s path. The criminal swerved desperately, but it was too late.
In one fluid motion, Batman launched himself from the Batmobile, his cape unfurling like wings as he soared through the air. He landed with precision on the hood of Black Mask’s vehicle, the impact causing the driver to lose control. With three calculated strikes, Batman shattered the windshield, disabled the steering, and extracted the terrified criminal from his seat. “It’s over, Roman,” Batman growled, holding the struggling crime lord by his lapels as police sirens wailed in the distance.
On a shadowed street corner, unnoticed by either combatant, Ultimate Bruce Wayne stepped through a dimensional portal that closed behind him with a soft hum. His experience gaze, immediately caught sight of the Batmobile speeding past, its distinctive silhouette unmistakable even in this unfamiliar Gotham. “So there is one here too,” he murmured to himself, watching as the vehicle disappeared around a corner in pursuit of some unknown criminal. The sight stirred something within him—a memory of who he used to be before he had started on his journey to become something more.
Ultimate Bruce’s hand moved to his wrist, activating the elevation tech embedded beneath his skin. “Analyze local timeline and Batman identity,” he commanded softly. The advanced Batcomputer, now a part of his very being, hummed to life, accessing all the databases and sending the most important information directly to his brain. This was his purpose now—to travel across the multiverse, studying the infinite variations of the hero, learning from each incarnation’s successes and failures. Understanding what made a Batman break, what made him endure, and perhaps most importantly, why?
Over the next several days, Ultimate Bruce observed this universe’s Batman with methodical precision. He deployed microscopic drones throughout the city, each one providing him with a different angle from which to study this Dark Knight. He hacked into the Batcomputer with ease—the passwords were almost identical to those he once used—and absorbed the history of this Gotham and its protector. What he found was painfully familiar: a Batman as idealistic as he himself had once been, clinging steadfastly to a moral code that forbade killing, that believed in the potential for redemption in even the most depraved souls.
“He’s just like I was,” Ultimate Bruce whispered to himself as he watched Batman deliver a captured Penguin to the GCPD. “Before I understood the truth.” There was a certain nobility to it, he had to admit—the unwavering commitment to justice without compromise. But there was naivety there too, a blind spot that Ultimate Bruce had long since eliminated from his own worldview. This Batman still believed that everyone wanted to be saved.
It was on the fifth night that Ultimate Bruce began to notice the shift. The citizens of Gotham, whom Batman fought so tirelessly to protect, were turning against him. It started with whispers on street corners—complaints that Batman wasn’t doing enough, that criminals went to jail only to break out weeks later, that Gotham was no safer than it had been before the Dark Knight’s mission. These whispers grew into shouts, then organized protests outside City Hall. “Batman is failing Gotham!” they cried, even as the vigilante swung overhead, racing to stop yet another crisis.
Ultimate Bruce Wayne watched, fascinated, as Batman’s resolve began to crack under the weight of the city’s ingratitude. He saw the subtle changes—the hesitation before each mission, the lingering gaze over the city skyline, the increasing isolation from even his closest allies. Then, one night, after a particularly brutal encounter with Killer Croc that left three officers injured despite Batman’s intervention, Ultimate Bruce witnessed something unexpected. Batman returned to the Batcave, stood in silence for long moments, then simply said, “Enough.”
To Ultimate Bruce’s surprise, Batman activated a device not unlike his own elevation tech, tore open a portal in the fabric of reality, and without a backward glance, stepped through. The portal closed behind him, leaving Gotham without its protector. “He’s not even from this universe,” Ultimate Bruce realized, his interest thoroughly piqued. “He was never their Batman at all.” This changed everything. Ultimate Bruce recalibrated his drones, expanded his surveillance, and settled in to observe what would happen next.
Two days passed before a new portal opened in the heart of Gotham. Ultimate Bruce was ready, his drones capturing every detail as another Batman emerged from the dimensional gateway. This one was similar to the first—same suit design, same movements, same apparent commitment to justice—but there was a subtle difference in his demeanor, a hardness around the edges that the previous Batman had lacked. Ultimate Bruce watched as this new Dark Knight went to work, quickly establishing himself as Gotham’s guardian.
The pattern repeated. This Batman captured the Riddler in a spectacular showdown at the Gotham Museum of Antiquities, prevented a mass poisoning by Poison Ivy at Robinson Park, and thwarted a series of bombings orchestrated by Anarky. But what truly caught Ultimate Bruce’s attention was what happened afterward. This Batman appeared at a city council meeting, standing tall before Gotham’s elected officials. “I cannot do this alone,” he declared, his voice commanding attention. “We need stricter laws and better security at Arkham, and perhaps it’s time to consider the death penalty for the most dangerous repeat offenders. How many chances does a mass murderer deserve?”
The council members nodded enthusiastically, promises flowing freely from their lips. But days turned into weeks, and nothing changed. Arkham remained a revolving door, the courts remained lenient, and criminals continued to plague the streets. When Batman confronted the council again, their excuses were ready. “These things take time,” they insisted. “The system works slowly, but it works. Besides, we have you to protect us.” The Batman’s posture stiffened, his disappointment palpable even from Ultimate Bruce’s distant vantage point.
That night, this second Batman too opened a portal and disappeared, leaving Gotham once more without its defender. Ultimate Bruce was beginning to see a pattern emerging, a cycle that repeated itself with the citizens of the city. A Batmen came, they fought, they tried to inspire change, and when they realized the futility of their efforts, they left. Gotham, it seemed, was consistent in its inconsistency, its ability to resist transformation, and its addiction to its own suffering.
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