Flipping Through the Pages
Copyright© 2026 by Dragonpig
Chapter 5
Stepping through the portal, Ultimate Bruce Wayne knew something was off.
He wasn’t in the alley he had programmed to arrive in. The temperature was cooler. The air carried a metallic stillness. Shadows bent unnaturally across smooth rock and steel.
A cave—dark, quiet, and unsettlingly familiar.
The Batcave.
Bruce’s eyes scanned the space. It was larger than his own, more expansive. The technology was years ahead—sleeker, more integrated. But the bones of it were the same.
Across the room stood Batman. Perfectly still.
Bruce’s voice cut through the silence. “Hello, Batman. I’m Bruce Wayne.”
No reaction.
He tried again, louder this time. “I said, I’m Bruce Wayne.”
Still nothing. The figure didn’t move. Didn’t acknowledge him at all.
Cautiously, Bruce moved closer. Every step was deliberate. Even up close, the Batman didn’t flinch. His arms hung relaxed at his sides. The head remained motionless.
Bruce waved a hand in front of the masked man’s face. The eyes didn’t track. No facial muscle twitched.
He muttered under his breath. “What’s going on here...”
A voice echoed from the cave walls. Calm. Artificial.
“Hello, Bruce Wayne.”
Bruce turned sharply, already recognizing the tone. “Batcomputer?”
The voice that replied was smoother than his own system—more human but unmistakably familiar.
“Do you wish to access Protocol: Passing the Torch?”
Bruce didn’t respond immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the unmoving Batman. The symmetry of the armor, the sterile precision of the form—it was too perfect. Too clean.
Finally, without looking away, he spoke. “What do you mean? What is ‘Protocol: Passing the Torch’? And what the hell is this thing supposed to be?”
The Batcomputer’s voice returned, clinical and composed.
“The entity you are observing is not human. It is a biomechanical construct. A cybernetic simulation designed to replicate Batman’s tactical functions and public presence. It is the result of a contingency: Protocol: Passing the Torch.”
Bruce’s jaw tightened. “A robot.”
“Yes. With adaptive neural learning and combat algorithms modeled after this universe’s Batman.”
Bruce exhaled slowly, turning away from the figure.
“Fine. We’ll come back to that. Explain the protocol.”
A hum signaled a holographic display switching on. A representation of Earth rotated in the air above the Batcomputer’s central console. Then came a cascade of red indicators—fallen cities, a destroyed Hall of Justice, entire regions of the planet marked in ash and ruin.
“Protocol: Passing the Torch was created by this world’s original Bruce Wayne,” the computer began. “In the event of catastrophic superhero loss—greater than eighty percent of known active Earth protectors—the Batcomputer would activate a failsafe. Construct replacements. Artificial surrogates. Modeled after the fallen.”
Bruce’s shoulders squared. The explanation wasn’t unexpected, but it still hit like a punch.
“Let me guess. You started with Batman.”
“Correct. He was one of the first to fall. But not the last.”
“Who else?”
The hologram shifted. New forms emerged, caught mid-motion in their final moments:
Wonder Woman, her body engulfed in Omega fire.
Hawkgirl, wings torn and falling.
The Flash, a streak fading to nothing.
Green Lantern, his ring flickering out.
Aquaman. Martian Manhunter.
And then—Superman, savagely beaten to death by an out-of-focus figure.
Bruce stepped closer, his eyes searching the hollow depictions. As if proximity might change the truth.
“All of them? You replaced all of them?”
“Affirmative. The Justice League was annihilated in a single offensive.”
Bruce stared at the images. Each figure felt like an accusation.
“By who?”
A moment passed. The audio feed stuttered—barely noticeable.
Then the answer came.
“Darkseid.”
Bruce’s blood chilled. “He came here? To Earth?”
“He arrived via Boom Tube. A direct incursion. The Justice League intercepted him outside Keystone. The battle lasted one hour and twenty-three minutes. He was defeated. But not without a price. All League members were terminated in the process.”
The image flickered again. Crystal-clear satellite footage filled the air.
Wonder Woman disintegrating in light.
The Flash vanishing between frames.
Superman locked in melee, forcing Darkseid through the spine of a mountain—only to fall. Beaten. Broken. The Last Son of Krypton, crushed to death by Darkseid’s fists.
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