Marvel’s Dark Knight

The world is constantly changing.

Some people can accept this change, while others cannot.

Just like the figure displayed on the screen—clad in a red and blue suit adorned with web patterns, his identity was unmistakable to everyone.

Spider-Man.

A Spider-Man who had watched over this city for a long time.

Despite being admired and loved by most of the city's residents as their friendly neighborhood hero, there were still those who felt indifferent toward him.

For instance, some members of the New York police force, who were on the front lines of maintaining law and order, remained wary of him.

Even though they knew Spider-Man was a good person, their duty compelled them to keep an eye on him.

But sometimes, it's not just the world that changes—people do too.

At the very least, there had only ever been one person in the world who liked standing atop the gargoyles of Fisk Tower.

Now, there was another.

Wayne gazed down at the city beneath his feet, lost in thought.

The city's unmistakable landmarks told him exactly where he was.

New York—the Big Apple.

And the Spider-Man news on the screen only further confirmed the astonishing events unfolding in this world.

A world both dangerous and fascinating.

Lifting his hand, Wayne silently examined the gear he was wearing.

Jet-black gauntlets were locked tightly around his forearms, each lined with three claw-like, barbed plates exuding an aura of violence.

A suit woven from gray and black Kevlar fibers shielded his vulnerable body, while a dark cape rippled in the wind atop the skyscraper, casting eerie waves of shadow.

He was born to be one with the darkness.

His very presence felt out of place in this world.

Gloom and darkness flowed through every fiber of his being.

Clenching his fists, Wayne felt the raw power coursing through his body immense strength, yet still within the limits of what he understood.

His mind, ever sharp and rational, confirmed what he had already realized.

He was no longer an ordinary man.

And the emblem emblazoned across his chest made his identity unmistakably clear.

Batman.

A Batman who had arrived in Spider-Man's world.

"This is nothing like Gotham."

Before Wayne could even speak, a voice rang out, expressing precisely what he was thinking about this world.

"I've never seen a place like this in Gotham."

The voice was weathered and worn, as if crushed under the weight of an unbearable burden.

Its sudden appearance surprised Wayne, but he remained composed, accepting the situation without much reaction.

Even though the voice was speaking directly inside his mind.

"So, I've developed schizophrenia," Wayne muttered, his voice deep and hoarse, made even more oppressive by his voice modulator.

"No, kid. It's more like I've taken up residence in your head," the voice countered.

Wayne closed his eyes, letting his thoughts sink inward.

For most, this would have been an impossible task, but for him, it was as natural as breathing.

When he opened his eyes again, the sprawling cityscape of New York was gone.

In its place stood two rows of prison cells.

Wayne walked toward the first cell on his left. It was filled with darkness dense, swirling black mist that refused to reveal what lay within.

Turning to the opposite side, he found the same sight.

Clearly, whatever was inside did not want to be seen.

He understood.

This had to be some kind of special ability.

But it didn't seem like the mysteries would be revealed in any specific order.

Still, if the first cell was empty, then where was the owner of that voice?

"You're finally here?"

Wayne's assumptions were wrong. The owner of the voice was not in the first cell of either row.

Instead, the voice came from the second cell on the right.

Wayne walked over.

This cell was clearly different from the ones he had observed before.

There was no thick black mist, no impenetrable darkness - just an ordinary prison cell.

But the person imprisoned here was anything but ordinary.

Dressed in an all-black outfit with a bat emblem on his chest, the inmate was unmistakably another variant of Batman.

However, unlike the Batman Wayne knew, this one had a blood-red background behind the bat emblem and a utility belt of the same crimson hue.

Wayne was not an expert on Batman, but he knew exactly which period of an alternate comic book world this particular version hailed from.

This Batman was not Bruce Wayne.

His name was Thomas Wayne.

In this version of events, it was not Batman's parents who died in the alley that night—it was Thomas's son.

In this twisted world, Bruce Wayne's life had ended at the age of eight.

Unable to accept her son's death, Martha Wayne lost her sanity. She slashed open the corners of her mouth and became this world's Joker.

Thomas Wayne, on the other hand, became the Batman his son was meant to be.

But unlike the Batman of the main universe, Thomas Wayne's methods were brutal. He cared nothing for a criminal's life or human rights.

He preferred solving problems with guns. He took pleasure in eliminating anyone who dared commit crimes in Gotham.

Though he could never bring his son back to life, he chose to honor him in another way by cleansing Gotham completely.

"You're different from what I imagined," Thomas said, stepping up to the cell door and looking at the Wayne before him.

Wayne remained silent. His piercing blue eyes calmly met Thomas's gaze.

Seeing Wayne like this, Thomas forced himself to stay composed.

Even though he knew the person in front of him was not his grown-up son.

Just as he had said earlier, New York was nothing like Gotham and this Wayne was nothing like Bruce.

Even if they might share the same face.

"You can observe the world through my vision, gathering whatever information you need," Wayne finally spoke.

His first words were a direct assessment of how Thomas was perceiving the outside world.

Thomas nodded, not denying it, but still offered his own explanation.

"Or perhaps the world you see is simply reflected into my mind."

"We can verify that later." Wayne wasn't in a rush to determine whether Thomas was telling the truth.

In Wayne's eyes, if he could travel between worlds, then strange occurrences like this were hardly surprising.

"Maybe you can help me become someone truly worthy of the Batman name."

Leaving those words behind, Wayne turned and walked away.

Thomas stood in place, momentarily stunned.

Then, shaking his head, he sat back down on his crude bed.

It was nothing like the luxurious, comfortable beds he had once slept in, but here, he felt a peace unlike any he had ever known.

And perhaps, he would have the chance to watch over a Wayne as he grew into something greater.

As Wayne's consciousness returned to his body, he noticed something strange.

The bustling city below him, had come to a standstill.

Pedestrians, all across the streets, had frozen in place.

High above, the massive screens mounted on skyscrapers broadcasted breaking news.

"We interrupt this program for a special report."

"A tragic loss has struck our city today. our hero, Spider-Man, has left us."

"His death appears to be linked to the mysterious seismic event in Brooklyn earlier today."

"Multiple sources have confirmed that Peter Parker..."

On the very first day, in the very first hour of his arrival in this world

Spider-Man was dead.

(End of Chapter)

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