Darkness. There's nothing but black below his feet as he falls to a knee and catches himself silently on his palms. A stone surface, smooth and polished and cold to the touch. Turning his head upward, he looked out into the blackness, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dark as he scans the area. Bridges and cables suspending large platforms that interconnect in a strange way, staircases that lead everywhere yet no exit in sight. Massive rocky walls surround the structures and lead to an endless ceiling of large stalactites cascading down further than the dim light will carry. Along the edge of the great cavern on a lower platform stood numerous unnamable curios displayed haphazardly, each one stranger than the last and ranging wildly in form and size.
With a stilted effort, he pushed himself to his feet and quietly made his way to the far end of the platform toward the hanging metal staircase. A short distance up the stairs to the next platform, he halted, a faint clacking noise emanating from above gave him pause. He slowly crept up the last few steps and spied in the direction of the sounds, immediately spotting a huge square light glowing dimly behind the silhouette of a large horned creature sitting in a chair. He silently made his way across the platform to the other side, watching the creature remain motionless apart from the clicking sound.
He descended another staircase without a sound, following the path across a short bridge and found himself in what appeared to be an armory. At the far wall he examined an oddly shaped dagger without a hilt, the edge surrounded the blade entirely and gave no obvious means of gripping it. He pocketed the strange blade and continued on, the further he descended the better he could discern the faint sound of rushing water from far below. He followed the sound, seeking a way out, and came upon a large area of stone with an array of lines and circles drawn upon the floor, and human effigies and targets in the distance. The instant he stepped toward the other side of the floor, a large shadow dropped from above landing in total silence barely two steps from him. The shadowy figure stayed motionless in the dark, but he could now see it was not a horned creature, but a horned man, donned in cape and cowl with blades attached at the wrist.
Without notice, he ran full sprint at the man and leapt high to bring down a strong punch in synchronicity with his landing. The shadowy figure deflected the heavy blow with a forearm and in a single motion, grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, hurling him over the man's shoulder a distance away. He shifted his body in the air and managed to pull his feet underneath him just before landing, but the ferocity of the descent brought him down roughly to a knee. He immediately set off toward the shadowy figure again, this time launching a kick at the man's head, striking only air as the man dodged low and countered with a backhanded fist, striking him hard in the gut and knocking him to the ground. The figure swiftly followed with a fierce right swing. He threw up both arms to shield against the blow, then countered with a straight punch.
He retrieved the odd blade from his pouch and slashed at the figure, who moved in perfect order to just avoid the almost imperceptible reach of the blade's tip and gripped his wrist in a vice, wrenching it painfully outward and forcing him to release the blade. As it fell, he lunged at it, catching it fiercely in his grip as it dug into his palm. He slashed upward at the figure who leapt back and returned to be a shadowy statue once more. He threw the odd blade at the figure, it left his bloody hand and flew straighter than any blade he'd felt before, directly at the figure's head, the instant before it made contact, the man plucked it from the air as effortlessly as a loose grape. The man held the blade low and seemed to admire it briefly before looking back toward him. Without breaking sight, the man tossed the blade aside, it tumbled through the air, flying in different directions until it hit its home, the exact center ring of the far target. He glanced at the impossible display, only for a fraction of a second, but that was enough for the man to close the distance again. The figure moved even faster than before, trapping the attacking limb in an armlock before lunging forward with a ferocious headbutt. He staggered briefly, recounting himself just as a fist made contact with his ribcage. He stifled a groan and thrust forward recklessly, digging his knee into the figure's side while simultaneously bringing his elbow down into the man's neck. The instant the figure's grip on his arm loosened, he kicked away and distanced himself across the dimly lit stone floor. The figure reaffirmed a fighter's stance, seemingly unfazed by the attacks. He raised his fists once again, steeling himself for the horrible battle ahead, unwilling to heed the tremors in his legs and the lapse in his breaths. Just as he moves to resume his attack, his vision blurred and darkened as a sharp pain shot through his side; he was vaguely aware of falling to his knees, then nothing but darkness.
"…Alfred. You're needed in the cave."
Later
Voices surrounded him, and the pain at his side brought him fully back to the waking world. His eyes shot open and took quick stock of his situation, he lay on a metal table with a bright light glaring down on him. The man from before, his armor clearly visible in the light. A slimmer man without a cape and only a mask. And an elderly man with grey hair holding a sharp instrument near his side. He shoved the grey-haired man away and tried to sit up, but the man he fought before struck at his hands, and dodged his strikes and counterstrikes until he had his hands pinned across his chest. He tried to slip his arms free, but couldn't find the strength and quickly lifted his legs up to lock around the man's neck and threw him over the table with his body weight as leverage. He rushed off the table when a sharp pain stung his neck, the last thing he remembered is turning to see an armor-clad woman with striking red hair holding a syringe, then everything faded to black again.
The first sense to return from the darkness was the faint sound of the fluorescent light buzzing from up above. He opened his eyes to see his limbs bound in leather shackles, strapped to the metal table he lied upon. He immediately jolted his arms against the bindings, testing for any weaknesses and finding none. The clatter drew the attention of the man he fought before.
"You're awake."
He wasn't going to reply, but he could tell the man didn't care.
Suddenly, a genteel voice spoke from the shadows as its owner walked up wiping his hands with a cloth.
"Thirty-six stitches, and I had to remove enough shrapnel to build a paperweight, but you should be right as rain," he said.
He looked down at his wound for the first time to see a large white bandage taped to his side. He hid his confusion with scorn and glared back at his black cloaked captor.
"Where am I?" He finally spoke.
"The Batcave."
"Never heard of it," he said.
"Not from around here, then?" The older gentlemen asked.
He ignored the question and returned his gaze to the obvious leader.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"…Batman."
"Those are strange codenames, what faction are you with? Thousand Legion? Golden Sun?" he asked.
The men shot a look at each other, almost unnoticeably, but distinct.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"…No one, not anymore," he said.
The man known as "Batman" stepped silently beside the table and released the restraint holding his arm. He pulled it free, ready to defend himself again, but saw no movement against him. He reached for his other arm and worked the restraint off without taking his eyes off Batman, then quickly undid the bindings at his feet and leapt off the table across from the two men.
"Why?" he asked.
"Alfred is right, you aren't from here," he said.
He turned to the grey-haired gentleman who gave a slight bow at his impromptu introduction. The feeling in the air was so calm it threatened to put him off guard even as every instinct in his body screamed at him to attack before they could.
"What do you mean?" he said.
"You're in Gotham city, on the East coast of the United States, on the American continent, on the planet Earth. Does any of that sound familiar?" Alfred asked.
He looked back and forth between them, waiting for the joke.
"…Earth," he said.
"Do you know how you came here?"
"No. All things considered I should be dead." He scanned the cavernous void surrounding them. "Maybe I am, and this is hell," he said.
"This isn't hell, it's Gotham."
"An honest mistake, I'm sure," Alfred quipped.
He stared blankly, not at them but past them.
"I need to get back," he said.
"Tell me everything you remember, and I'll do what I can," Batman said.
He tensed again, the instinct to fight shocking his system and focusing his senses.
"Please understand, The Batman is actually a rather good detective, if anyone can find a way to get you home, he can," Alfred offered.
He searched the old man's eyes, finding only sincerity and a peculiar kindness. He looked at the bat man as well, seeing nothing new, nothing he hadn't learned through their fights. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, taking in the unfamiliar air.
"My name is Jacob…"
Later
The soft clicking, he now knew meant "research" resumed in the distance.
"I still don't understand. How am I here? How is there another Earth?" he said.
"I've no idea on the first count, but I'm afraid there's not just one other Earth. Believe me, there seems to be no end to the parallel worlds and their inhabitants that find their way here, and far too many are rather dreadful neighbors if I do say so," Alfred said.
He couldn't stop the confused chuckle from escaping his throat at the ridiculous statements being thrown at him, though he regretted laughing immediately as the action struck a nerve in his fresh wound and coursed pain throughout his side.
"How are you holding up?" Alfred asked motioning his head toward the bandage on Jacob's side.
"Better than I should be. I have you to thank for that," he said.
"Not at all." He raised his hand humbly. "It's my honor to take care of this little family, and our guests," he said.
"Before, there was another man, and…" he motioned toward the puncture mark on his neck.
"Ah yes, always so quick on her feet. I expect they'll be back presently, and can make introductions for themselves," he said.
He looked again toward The Batman at his research.
"Go on, I'm sure by now he has a string to follow," Alfred said.
He nodded and went to stand by The Batman, clicking away on the panel. The Batman made no move to acknowledge him and he made no disturbance, simply watched the rapid cascade of pictures and words displayed in lights in front of them.
"Where did you learn to fight?" he asked.
"Everywhere."
He scoffed through his nose.
"Yeah, me too…" he sighed.
"You fight well. You must have had good teachers."
"Not well enough. I know when someone's holding back," he said.
"You were bleeding out."
"That's no excuse," he said.
The Batman peered at him from the corner of his cowl with the faintest excuse for a grin before returning to his research. The soft clicks on the button presses feeling strangely calming, he watched the images appear and fall away until the image froze on the Batcave, and his own silhouette.
"You were watching me, the whole time?" he said.
The Batman brought up more images and showed the cave without Jacob again.
"There's nothing, then a microsecond later…" A click. "…You're there."
"How am I just there?" he asked.
"I scanned your arrival, and apart from the thermal and atmospheric changes from your physical presence, there was only a small spike in alpha and delta radiation. You were teleported here, using a method I've never seen before."
He reached down and pressed the same buttons he saw Batman use, showing the cave, then his appearance, back and forth with increasing urgency.
Alfred's voice rang from behind.
"I took the liberty of preparing you a light dish. I assume you're feeling a bit peckish," he said.
He turned around to see Alfred offering a silver tray as the sound of research continues. A moment passed and Alfred sets the tray down beside him.
"I'm not hungry," he said.
"Indeed? After all the blood you've lost, that's quite a feat," he said.
He held the tray outstretched toward Alfred.
Alfred politely grabbed the spoon from the napkin on the tray and dipped it into the bowl, then brought it to his mouth and swallowed the spoonful of soup.
"And now?" he asked, setting the spoon back on the tray.
He retrieved the tray, gently balancing the bowl atop it.
"Thank you," he said.
Alfred replied with a smile and a nod with all the propriety of a bow.
He left to the lower levels where he knew he could be alone.
"Master Bruce, after what he told us about his world, would it even be right to return him?" Alfred said.
"…It's his home."
Later
The cave was utterly quiet, the bats above hang upside-down sleeping from the ceiling, and he sat alone in the dim light of the armory. He peered around the alien surroundings, his breathing calm and focused, he gripped his fist tightly, finding his strength familiar and reassuring.
The faint sound of footsteps from above brought him instantly to his feet, he followed the sound pace for pace toward the stairs and waited at the base for the owners of the two sets of footsteps.
"So he's awake. And he's done throwing people around the room," a male voice said as the two armored people from before approached.
"Go easy on him, he didn't know who we were or even where he was," a distinctly feminine voice chimed in.
"Hey, I'm not bashing the guy, it was a hell of a sight," he said.
"It's good to see you on your feet," she turned to Jacob and gave a genuine smile.
He stared at her with a curious expression, failing to respond.
"So, anyway, I'm Nightwing, and this is Batgirl. But you can call me Dick and she's Babs," he said.
She sighed as soon as he finished speaking.
"What is the point of wearing masks if you're just going to give away our identities?" she said.
"What's the problem, you heard Alfred, we don't even exist on his earth, who's he gonna tell?" he said.
She stepped closer to Jacob, ignoring the near logic of Dick's argument and reached out her hand.
"I'm Barbara," she emphasized.
His expression remained fixed on his face as he stared at her for a moment too long, then finally clasped hands with her.
"Jacob," he returned.
Nightwing joined them and stood at their sides. "We're on babysitting duty while Batman is in low orbit getting your ride sorted out," Nightwing said.
He released his grip on her gloved hand.
"…I'm not even going to ask this time," he said.
"Good, now that we're all friends I can ask, did you really go toe to toe with Batman as soon as you got here?" Nightwing asked.
"Not for very long," he said.
Nightwing whistled.
"Still, he seemed impressed…for him," he said.
"And you, you're his soldiers?" he asked.
"We're his partners," she said.
"Yep, the dynamic trio!" Nightwing grinned.
"Who exactly is he? What is this place really for?" he said.
"He's Batman," he said.
"That means nothing," he said.
"He's…complicated," she said.
He watched her carefully.
"He's a hero, he fights criminals to keep people safe," she said.
"A soldier. I already knew that. Taking lives to save lives…hero though, that's a new one," he said.
"Batman doesn't kill. He'll fight them on their terms, using every tactic that works, but he never crosses that line," she said.
He lingered on her words, losing himself in the idea of them as he looked at her and past her.
"Heroes…" The word bitter in his mouth. "…Your world feels less real by the moment."
"Jacob?" she asked.
He looked at her, really looked at her, seeing more than just the color in her eyes, but the life behind the blue.
"We have some time, if you want a proper tour of the place," she smiled.
He softly nodded a short reply and followed her down the steps to the lower levels of the cave, entering another large open platform with advanced medical equipment all around. He stood waiting patiently for his guide's descriptions to begin. What she said next was not expected.
"Are you sure you want to go back?"
The words hit his ear strangely, his gaze finding hers full of concern. Suddenly failing to hide the array of emotions that flooded him he could only question what he'd heard.
"What?"
"To your world, are you sure you want to go back there?" she said.
His eyes drift to the distance as no answer seems appropriate, a soft sigh and her movement brought him back, her hands pulled off her cowl, revealing the remaining beauty of her face and showing her fierce red hair was indeed her own.
"It's probably not my business, but if you wanted, you could stay, even just long enough to properly heal," she said.
"I have to go back," he said.
"I get that, I do. But…" She strode toward him, looking at his side and resting her fingers gingerly below his wound. "You won't make it,"
He prepared to speak, but her blue eyes moved up to pierce through him and falter his tongue. It was unmistakably apparent to him the difference in their heights with her standing so close without the armored cowl, she looked small.
"I have to," he said.
She took several slow steps backward wearing a pensive smile.
He went toward the edge of the level, glancing at the metal table he knew so well.
"Medical room," he said.
She looked toward him, then joined his side.
"Right, you've been here before," she smiled
Later
After several destinations in the tour, they made it to the display cases full of odd curios. He followed by her side, quietly observing the different objects, weapons and costumes.
She tells him they're "Memorabilia from the various villains he's defeated, with our help," she winked.
He nodded, his thought confirmed. "I've known plenty of men that collected…trophies."
She grimaced. "It's really not like that. He says they're reminders," she said.
"Of what?" he said.
"I really don't know," she said.
His eyes were drawn conspicuously to the massive dinosaur looming in the corner, then toward his tour guide.
"It's a long story," she chuckled.
He scanned the room, taking note of each trophy, the sheer number of them.
"You've won so many battles," he turned to her, ready to say more but looked away toward the displays, stepping past her in silence.
"Come on, you haven't seen the Batmobile yet," she grinned.
Utterly intrigued by the word, he followed her once again down some stairs toward the center of the cavern and across a bridge to a large pedestal rising up from the dark below. In its center stood a dark statue, dynamic angles adorned it moving in the same direction away from its fierce face.
"The Batmobile," she said.
He gave her the same look he'd done the last several times he wanted more information, she replied by tapping her wrist and causing a loud roar to erupt from the dark statue as bright lights shown from its face and what he recognized as a door hissed opened atop it. Inside sat arrays of small lights, seats, and all manner of unknown curiosities.
"It's a transport?" he asked.
"The best transport around," she said.
He circled the large Batmobile, drawn to its craftsmanship. Stopping on the other side to peer at Barbara's soft smile. "Are your enemies as well equipped?"
"Sometimes. Though usually they have other…advantages," she said.
He gave the look again.
"Abilities, superpowers—"
"Energy," he interjected.
"Sometimes," she said.
He rejoined her.
"Not always?" he asked.
"Some have power over elements like ice, fire, light, some are impossibly strong, or impossibly fast, some can fly…" his expression changed, and she caught a surprised scoff in her throat. "…I know. But sometimes the most dangerous have no powers at all," she said.
"That, I understand," he said.
"There are superheroes too. Different people have different powers, it's just up to them how they are used," she said.
"And The Batman, how do his powers match up?"
"Batman doesn't have any powers. But he always finds a way."
He stared at her with a darkly curious look in his eye. "Does he not?" he said in a strangely consumed tone.
She questioned him with her eyes, but his thoughts occupied his attention. "Jacob?"
His focus returned to her, the galeful drive fading from his eyes as he found hers. She watched, words on her tongue but swallowed them back, she smiled with a gentle shake of her head and brightened the smile further.
She aimed her head toward the metal bridge, enticing him to follow her again. They retraced their path up to the main hall where Nightwing sat at the large computer, presumably doing research of his own. At the sound of their approach he stood and met them halfway with a large grin. "You two have fun?"
She shot him a look.
"It was very interesting, I've never imagined half of what exists here," he said.
"If you like this, just wait 'til you see the Watchtower," Nightwing said.
"I assume that doesn't mean what I think it means," he said.
"It does, just…more, than what you think," she said.
"Well, since we still got some time to kill…" Nightwing grinned expectantly.
"What do you want to know?" he asked.
"For starters, what's the last thing you remember?" she asked.
"Running. Legionnaires on my heel. Then the mortar strike. I was as good as dead, and then suddenly I was here, staring at your Batman," he said.
"You didn't see or feel anything?" she said.
"Just the flash of the mortar shell," he said.
"Now I'm just dying to know—" Nightwing was stopped by her gloved hand held up before him.
"We're curious, about your world. We heard some from Batman, but if you don't mind telling us more about it…" she said.
He glanced between the two, taking a moment to gather his thoughts with a deep breath and slow exhale.
"Most of the ancient cities are abandoned or destroyed, stripped for material and left to legend. The few cities left standing are occupied by one of the great factions…" he exhaled forcefully.
She stepped closer, leaning into his view.
"I'm not used to telling this to anyone, everyone knows the way of the world. On my world," he said.
"If it's any trouble…" he silenced her platitude with a small shake of his head.
"Rival factions war nonstop over territory and the few resources that are left. The Golden Sun, Her Legionnaires, Immortal Children, Birds of the Sea, and the rest of us, people just fighting to live. My people, before, we kept on the move, skirting the edges of the territories and never staying in the same place twice. Most days we stayed ahead of the Factions, some days…" he stopped.
"Can I ask how many of your people there are?" Nightwing asked.
"When I took command, we were two thousand strong, six hundred children," the briefest smile approached his face, but left just as quickly.
"We grew a lot, and we lost even more,"
"You lead them?" she asked.
"For five years. After my predecessor fell, I didn't have a choice," he said.
"We…I did my best to keep them alive. Until the day I came here."
"Why stay? Couldn't your people leave, sail to another land beyond the Factions' reach?" she asked.
He hid his disgust with indifference.
"There is nothing beyond the Faction's. Every land has been claimed and reclaimed. At last count The Golden Sun alone numbered over one billion," he said.
Nightwing stepped aside and held his fingers to the side of his head.
"I..I'm so—"
"Okay, they're ready for you," Nightwing said.
Barbara adjusted herself, stepped next to him, and gingerly placed her hand over his forearm.
"We're going to the Watchtower, uh, quickly. Don't worry it's not the same as how you got here," she said with a slight soothing flick of her thumb on his arm.
Bright beams of light suddenly engulfed them, and in the next instant the light faded and they had appeared in a large room made of some kind of greyish metal with electric panels covering the edges and walls. Massive windows stretched nearly to the ceiling, only parted by a few feet of metal beams every so often, a marvelous sight as the ceiling sat several dozen meters above them. Various floors and catwalks peppered the air above and below them with hundreds of people working, running and even flying all around.
"It's a lot to take in, I know," Barbara's voice broke through his awe as the telltale encircling of her thumb tickled his senses once again. He looked at her hand, then up to her eyes which prompted her to unceremoniously remove her hand from him. She parted her lips to speak but his attention was gathered to the view outside the window on their level. A brilliant blue slowly grew to encompass the entire window as he took a step closer.
"Is that…?" he asked.
"Earth, yep. Ours at least," Nightwing spoke from behind them as he laid a hand on Jacob's shoulder.
"The Watchtower wasn't always this imposing, the restructure a couple years back made room for all the newcomers on scene," he said.
"So it was only a somewhat massive outpost orbiting the planet?" he asked.
"Watchtower," Nightwing corrected with a shrug.
"Right," he stared through the window in awe.
Barbara quietly came to stand beside him.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said.
He glanced at her before returning his sights to the planet below.
"I never…never thought I'd see the Earth like this," he exhaled slowly. "I wonder if mine is as beautiful."
"I'm sure it is," she said.
"…I'll never know," he said.
"We're ready."
He turned toward the voice and gave an affirmative nod. Having arrived silently, The Batman stood behind them.
The group settled to follow to the destination as he briefly quickened to match Barbara's pace.
"I guess this will be goodbye then," he said.
"Yeah, for now at least." She forced a reassuring smile.
A sadness behind her eyes should have threatened him, instead it only made him feel guilt as she caught up with The Batman and walked several paces ahead of them.
Nightwing leaned over and whispered in his ear. "What'd ya think they're talking about?" he asked.
"I couldn't tell you," he said.
"Betcha she's talking about you," Nightwing said.
"What about me?" he asked.
"This isn't right, Bruce, we're sending him back to a warzone. Alone," she said.
"It's his world, we don't have the right to interfere."
"I know that we can't fight his war for him, but can't we, I don't know let him stay? Political sanctuary or asylum…something?" she said.
"He hasn't asked for help."
"We haven't offered," she said pointedly.
"I mean you don't paint a very pretty picture of your world. Honestly this feels a little like marching you to the gallows," Nightwing said.
"That's…I survived death once, that's more than enough for me," he said.
"Oh that's nothing, try it nine or ten times, then it gets really fun," he said.
He glared at him.
"I'm kidding, it doesn't. Still sucks. Every time," Nightwing said.
They entered a vast room surrounded by mechanical instruments. At its center stood a large upright circular machine with two people standing in front, one covered entirely in bright red and the other in a blue cape with pale green skin and a peculiar face.
Nightwing grabbed his shoulder and held out his arm toward the green man. "Jacob, this is The Martian Manhunter. Don't let the name fool you, he's a teddy bear." His arm shifted toward the one in red, "And this is The Flash, the name actually fits pretty well."
That moment he felt his heart race, his muscles tense and the hairs on his neck and arms awaken as the air felt alive around him, the next moment The Flash stood in front of him with a bright grin. "So this is him, the man without a planet," he said.
Nightwing squeezed his shoulder. "At ease, soldier. Flash is fast; told ya the name fit."
The Martian Manhunter glided smoothly toward them to stand beside Flash as Batman explained his purpose. "J'onn is a telepath. He may learn more about how you came here if he reads your mind."
He tensed again.
"It is perfectly safe, I assure you. And I will not take anything that you do not offer," The Martian Manhunter said.
"…Alright, do it," he said, bracing himself for pain.
The Martian Manhunter placed his fingers on either side of his head, his voice simply existing within his mind as the words seemed to echo from inside him.
'Think back to your last day, just before you arrived in the Batcave.'
A loud drumming grew from deep inside, like the sound of water rushing toward him. Louder and clearer, the sound was now unmistakable, boots pounding the earth, running toward him and his people by the thousands. He stood at the rearguard, shoulder to shoulder with five-hundred of his brothers and sisters hoping to live long enough to allow the rest of his people time to escape in the forest. Legionnaires known for their brutality mere paces away. He took aim at a man adorned in intricate bronze armor, and pulled the trigger, signaling to attack. The man fell dead, he adjusted his aim and fired again, short bursts, another fell, and another. Half a dozen more and the army stood at his toes. A long spear thrust at his chest as he moved beside it and stabbed its wielder in the neck between the armor. Through the storm of bullets and explosions he heard a cry beside him in the distance, a Legionnaire had his brother run through and pinned to the ground, he quickly aimed and eliminated the enemy. A sword cut through the air toward his neck, he brought his rifle up as he dodged back, guarding against the blade. He dropped the butt of his rifle forcing the blade to come down beside him and blindly emptied the magazine into the woman. Rushing behind a growth of trees, he reloaded the rifle and quickly rushed ahead to curtail the Legionnaires that broke through his line. Long descents of sickly whistles announced the arrival of the mortar shells, striking the earth with devastating blasts all around. He ran in odd patterns, anticipating the strikes and moving just far enough away to slough the shockwave and keep heading forward. A shell came down nearby, he stopped in place as one of his brothers was blasted in front of him, his lower half completely missing as charred insides poured onto the forest floor. His brother reached his hand up, eyes begging for help. He took aim, but lowered the rifle and forced himself to keep moving. Two enemies cut him off as he cleared a thicket, he dove to avoid the thrown spear and rolled to position to fire at the other man. The spear-thrower charged with a quickly drawn sword, slashing and barely missing him as the sword imbedded itself in a nearby tree. He slammed the soldier with his shoulder and grabbed the hilt of the sword, spinning on the spot to dislodge it and drove the blade clean through the enemy's neck, separating head from body. He dropped the sword to affix both hands to his rifle and rushed ahead. The screams of his brothers and sisters chased him through the trees, some too far away to save, most too far gone to help. The air ripped above him as bullets flew past, he quickly threw himself behind a large tree. He peeked the enemy only to be instantly driven back by the gunfire, spotting the gunman holding his line of sight and two more approaching his position. He listened for the armored footsteps. As they reached him he rolled away from the tree, narrowly avoiding a sword and fired at the soldier. He scrambled to his feet and caught the body as it fell and rushed toward the gunman, firing blind as the corpse gathered the bullets meant for him. He dropped the corpse on top of the fallen gunman and quickly dispatched the third soldier behind him. He took in a heavy breath and set off once more. Several more enemies impeded him on his way, he fired before they saw him, never slowing his pace. He neared the edge of the woods, where he could cut off the enemy's advance. A sea of dead surround him, his people barely distinguishable from theirs, except those standing on the corpses of his brothers. The two Legionnaires aimed their rifles at him, he shot first, two rounds penetrate before his ammo depleted and he drops his guns as he dives over the bodies, using them as sandbags while the remaining enemy fires wildly. He drew his knife and at the first break in fire, stood and threw it at the gunman, penetrating his upper chest. Three sets of footsteps rushed behind him as the enemy fell. He turned, each of them with rifles in hand, trained on him. He inhaled sharply and tensed his muscles, ready to charge and take one of them with him, when a familiar whistle descended from above. No time to move, no time at all. The blast impacted at his feet, the searing white light blinded him to any pain as he collapsed to the ground, alone in the dark.
The world shifted around him as The Martian Manhunter removed his fingers from his head, the lights of the Watchtower returned him to his senses. He took a slow breath, unsure how long it'd been since the last time he'd felt air in his lungs.
"I am truly sorry," Martian Manhunter spoke softly.
His eyes stung with the wetness building in them, he quickly blinked away the tears before they could fall.
Martian Manhunter turned to Batman. "It is just as he said, a mortar shell detonated at his feet in his world, then he was in the Batcave. There was something between, some kind of transitional phase, but I saw only blackness," he said.
"Guess we do it the old fashioned way," Flash said. "I'll start the treadmill up and open a portal to your dimension in no time."
"You sound like you travel dimensions all the time," he said.
Flash and Nightwing spoke in near unison. "Kinda, yeah," they said.
"You gotta be with me on the treadmill, but don't worry, I'll do all the work," Flash appeared in front of him. "Don't hold your breath or your lungs could explode."
Before he could react, Flash continued. "Kidding. Okay, here we go!"
The air came alive and that feeling shot through his body again. For a fraction of a moment he felt as if a mountain was pressing down on him as he was dragged away at an imperceptible speed. The very next instant gravity seemed to reverse and he carried no weight at all. Beside him and holding him upright was The Flash, his body blurred into a streak of red sparking lighting all around them as he ran them in place on the machine. Energy arced in a growing storm around the machine, building to some unknown resolution when everything suddenly stopped, the energy died down and he found himself standing back where he was before.
"I'm sorry, I should have checked before making promises," Flash said.
"What happened?" Barbara asked.
"I can't open a portal to his universe because his vibrational resonance matches our own universe's resonance," Flash said.
"What? How is that possible?" Barbara asked.
"I don't know…it shouldn't be," Flash said.
Flash walked slowly next to Jacob and placed his hand on his shoulder, "Sorry, man."
"You tried," he said.
The Martian Manhunter was the first to speak. "What do we do about Jacob now?"
The question hung in the air.
Voices clambered to find a solution, each trying to help in their own way.
"I got plenty of room at my house, and could always use another lab assistant," Flash grinned.
"Jacob is a stateless veteran, the UN will be able to provide for him," Martian Manhunter said calmly.
"He isn't a normal refugee, he doesn't even know this world," Barbara looked expectantly toward Batman, but he gave no indication of notice.
Nightwing stood silent, sure of his prediction.
"I'll handle it."
At Batman's word, the uproar silenced.
"I'll keep that assistant job open for ya," Flash said with a wave.
He looked at The Martian Manhunter, who stared back and offered a faint smile.
He turned toward Batman, but he'd already left and disappeared from sight.
Barbara smiled at the superheroes. "Thank you for all your help," she said.
She joined Nightwing and him and they returned to the teleporter they'd used to arrive.
The bright beams of the teleport surrounded them, until he saw nothing but light.