Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel or DC


Universal Collisions: Secret Crisis

Chapter 3: Dreams across the Multiverse

"Honestly I don't know why you didn't see this coming?"

"I know."

"Do you? I mean, you're supposed to be a lawyer too, how did you not see this coming?"

"I'm not proud of this all right."

Jennifer Walters groaned, in front of her were damage bills. One for the parking lot roof she had caved in (Reference She-Hulk Attorney at Law episode 8) another for a car she had thrown (same episode) and for a vintage arcade cabinet she had destroyed (again same episode, god, what did the poor arcade machine do to her?). The currently unemployed lawyer, living in her parent's house, signed the cheque covering the damages. This settlement came courtesy of Mallory Book, not as a favour to a friend; she still had to pay the legal fees too. Once the settlement was done Jennifer dragged her hands over her face and again groaned. She looked at Book's office, inside the very law firm she used to work in.

She had in a way beaten Intelligencia, but she couldn't get her ideal ending.

"Which is bullshit," Jennifer whispered.

…she had to follow the standard she had been talking about though, after all she wanted accountability.

"For the people who invaded my privacy, harassed and trolled me, instead of having to smash them in a generic super hero fight with characters inserted in that makes no sense, I mean come on don't you guys agree with me?" Jennifer asked.

Oh for fuck sake, sorry people, this won't take a moment.

Jennifer, you no longer get to break the forth wall, in fact, this critique of your final episode will probably be the last bit of 'humour' in the story.

"Seriously, and why did you put quotation marks on humour?" Jennifer asked.

Because humour is subjective, I'm not going to pretend I'm some expert on writing funny scenes just like I'm not going to pretend I can write courtroom scenes, hence why your reckless behaviour is being settled outside of a courtroom. My problem with your finale isn't the fourth wall break, it isn't the abandoning the blood plotline that yeah, had problems at the end but was one of the focuses since the first episode, it isn't even the 'oh by the way, this is my son Skaar' introduction, which is lazier than the resolution of the Hulk/Banner character arc and severally disrespectful to the character and the original writers that introduced him.

"But it was my show!"

The Flash, Black Lightning, Clark and Lois, Smallville, Supergirl, Arrow, all of these shows and much of the time is spent exploring the supporting cast of characters, even the original comics had to slide between the perspective of the title character and the supporting and villains in order to build the world, the plot and the character arcs. Bill Bixby's Incredible Hulk utilised the formula of a new supporting cast or cameo each episode in order to drive plots and explore David Banner's character, so no, TV Shows, comics, movies they have never been 'just' about the title characters.

No Jen, what I hated the most about your ending, was the fact that your whole motivation was to see people be held accountable in a court room and do we see that come to fruition? No, we get a news report and a shot of you walking into a court; we don't get the delivery of an actual courtroom scene, thus earning the ending, thus establishing (for once) your capabilities as a lawyer.

"Hey I read that 'for once' you son of a bitch, and…and I suppose it's kind of fair, but I had to lose those court cases for the sake of plot."

Just at that moment, a sling ring portal began to open.

"Wait, is this my Avengers recruitment, I thought we established that you don't like my character," Jennifer said.

I don't dislike characters; I dislike the writing behind certain characters, the reason Jen I'm taking your fourth wall breaking abilities from you is because this is an Avengers and Justice League story too, a Marvel and DC Universe story, so there's only one character who gets to manipulate reality, and only another who gets to break the fourth wall.

Jennifer widened her eyes, putting her hand to her mouth as the Deadpool theme played.

And even then, this is going to be more a tragedy than a comedy, at least I hope it will.

"But we don't even know if canonically I'm going to be an Avenger, would I even want to be one?" She-Hulk asked.

You're living in your mum and dad's house, the Avengers have a headquarters with lodging for members.

"Sold on that, and sold on the giving up my fourth wall abilities so that we can have the master of fourth wall breaks, but you've got to let me have some of my humour, it can't all be doom and gloom even if one part of this story is the DCEU," Jennifer explained.

This is the last bit of rest we have for a while, the last kind of comedy and bright moment. I'll include a warning now that themes of depression and suicide will be explored in upcoming chapters. Things will escalate, darken after this, there will be tragedy, and you'll find that out soon Jen.

"Wait what does that mean?" Jennifer asked.

"Who are you talking to?"

Jennifer turned around, seeing Dr Strange and Wong waiting at the portal for her.

"Nobody, just nobody," Jennifer said.

"Are we sure this is the Hulk we're looking for?" Strange asked Wong.

"Miss Walters, we need you, lives are at stake, and Colonel Rhodes believes we might need legal expertise as well if this incident can lead us to who we're hoping it leads to," the sorcerer Supreme explained.

She-Hulk widened her eyes slightly at that news. Jennifer had read about the incident at Westview, and the fall of Wanda Maximoff.


Once she had the same dream, and then she would wake up to the same nightmare. But now, every time she slept, she saw a nightmare. Through all of it though, Wanda could not stop herself from feeling that she deserved it. She awoke, her brown hair resting off of her shoulders, she hadn't dyed it or even washed it in months. The costume that her chaos magic constructed had long been abandoned, burned, she opted instead for a shawl that only had a faded red colour to it. That shawl had been her blanket for the past few months as she made her way through Europe. Wundagore crumbled, collapsing on top of her as she destroyed the last of the Dark Hold. She was supposed to die, that was supposed to be her repentance, for the Illuminati, for Westview, for Johannesburg and for Lagos.

Only she was alive, and the Dark hold remained.

Which should have been impossible, but every dream Wanda had instead of showing her living a happy life with her boys, showed her only death, terrible and agonising deaths and at the centre of all of this was a dark void that felt familiar to Wanda.

Wanda hugged her arms as she walked out of the alleyway she was hiding in. The small village she had come to had been the second bit of civilisation she had arrived at. She tried to stay in the snow, tried to freeze herself to death but when she passed out, she awoke and found herself in a dome of warm air and fresh green grass. Frostbite on her toes and fingers healed, she wanted to get an infection but the magic denied her that. Her fingers no longer bore the corruption of the dark hold; it didn't stop her from seeing flashes of them, from seeing her face turn monstrous in the reflection of water, like it did when she snapped Xavier's neck. She felt like vomiting at that moment, but she hadn't eaten in days, she was malnourished, her lips were dry, yet still she would not die.

When the night came and sleep took hold, she saw the deaths of worlds.

A blue tear would appear, followed by the dark edges, and from those edges spouted chains and clouds of darkness alongside horrors of flesh akin to the demons she had conjured with the Darkhold. This 'Growth' spread across worlds, crushing Avengers tower, crushing a mansion in Westchester, a hall of justice, a lab shaped like a star, and any hero of this accompanying world. The worst nightmares came when she would see her own death, consumed on her throne in Wundagore, or whilst she mourned her husband, Vision in most, Steve in some, sometimes she would watch her boys die first, or her daughter, or a son who wasn't Billy or Tommy. It was a new level of torture seeing citizens fleeing hopelessly from an event that literally consumed their planet and it didn't stop there. She saw this darkness and growth spread across the universe, swallowing the light of a corps of glowing guardians, seeing Ravagers and variants of the Guardians, some led by Quill, others even by T'Challa fight and fail to stop this wave. Even Celestials were taken; heroes and villains tried to fight alongside one another but still failed.

She collapsed, sliding against a wall for support. People were looking at her, some Samaritans willing to give her help. Gathering her strength, she began to move away from them, for their safety. Her knees shook however as she felt someone wrap her arm underneath their neck. They carried her to a café and placed her at a chair across from them.

"A jug of water please for the young lady, and a jug of milk for me," it was a woman speaking, though there was a gruffness to her voice Wanda couldn't place.

She looked up and blinked in confusion. Clearly her reality manipulation abilities wouldn't wipe away her hallucinations. The woman in front of her had a cows head, maybe Wanda was experiencing some kind of guilt for torturing that bull headed apprentice at Kamar Taj. There was something motherly in the clothes the cow woman wore, her scarf, her modest coat; even her furry hands had a tender feel to them as she wiped the sweat away from Wanda's face.

"You should look after yourself more," she said.

"I don't deserve…" Wanda whispered.

"You didn't deserve to lose your parents, you didn't deserve to lose your brother, you didn't deserve to lose the man you loved," the cow lady assured her.

Wanda spluttered, her nose and eyes were shining from the tears she couldn't stop.

"The people in Johannesburg, they didn't, they didn't deserve to have the Hulk unleashed on them, they had nothing to do with our hatred for Stark and yet I…I'm the one that killed them, not Banner, me. I tried, I tried so hard to be better, to be the person Pietro died to be, but I still failed, I failed those people in Lagos. I killed the man I loved and instead of making his death count I just, I lost myself, I hurt people, I knew what was happening, I knew deep inside but I didn't care because, because I had what I wanted, everything I wanted," Wanda explained, trembling, wanting to claw at her face, at her wrists and end it all.

"I threw myself into something I knew would harm me, into something I knew was evil, but didn't care, 'reasonable' I called myself, I clung to whatever lie, whatever justification I could make up just to be with my…children," she continued, even when the waiter arrived with their order.

"You took whatever chance you could, no matter how small to be with them," the cow woman said.

"No, I killed people, good people, innocent people, 'what mouth' 'then there will be someone to raise them', oh god, Vision, Pietro, they would have been horrified, I don't deserve them, Billy, Tommy, I don't deserve them after what I've done," Wanda said.

"What if there was a way to change all of that, a way to bring them back without sacrifice, without cost, to make everything you ever wanted a reality, to make everyone's wishes a reality, you could make it so that it never happened," the cow woman explained.

"But it did happen," Wanda whispered.

"You can't change the past Wanda, but you can eclipse bad deeds with good ones, find it Wanda, find the cube," the cow woman said.

Wanda knocked the jug of water aside and it shattered when it struck the ground. She fell to the floor, her vision reflecting what had happened to the glass. When she blinked, she found that she was on her side, in a toilet cubicle. The glass of the mirror had shattered and its shards rested at Wanda's side. There was no trace of the cow woman anywhere. Wanda's hand trembled as she griped one of the shards of glass, cutting her hand. She lifted the shard off of the floor and held it inches above her wrist.

"Stop Wanda," another hallucination echoed in her mind.

'It has to end,' she thought.

"Not like this," the voice echoed again.

'I deserve this,' she grit her teeth together, tightly holding the glass.

"Just because someone stumbles and falls, doesn't mean they are lost forever," the voice said.

The words echoed in her mind, but it did little to make her guilt fade.

'I did more than fall,' she thought bitterly.

The lock on the door clicked, moving in reverse and unlocking itself before the door opened. Wanda's vision was still blurry, she could just make out the fact that a man was standing over her in a fedora and red scarf.

"You don't get off that easy," he said before reaching down to help her up.


Barry Allen, the Flash, CSI, son trying to prove his father's innocence and member of the Justice League, waited as one by one the people who had become Earth's defenders arrived. Fittingly the first was the one who always had the most time, and the one whom had operated in the Great War, losing her home and even the man she loved to protect the world from a war that would have consumed it. Diana Prince was beautiful, compassionate and wise, enough to admit she still had things to learn, the dark-haired woman wore her armour, a blue skirt, red and gold chest piece, silver gauntlets and the battle crown that belonged to her teacher and aunt. Her people knew her as Princess Diana of the Amazons; the world knew her by the moniker Wonder Woman.

"Are you all right Barry?" she asked.

"I need to wait, wait until everyone else is here," he said.

"Something about bad dreams isn't it?" the voice that came from the shadows of the meeting room made Barry yelp slightly.

Black combat boots slammed against the ground, and a black gloved hand touched the chair that was set near Diana's. He built the table, owned the mansion that was now their meeting hall, and had been the one who brought them together one by one. Though he appeared older than Diana he wasn't, and though he had fought in no war, he was a more experienced fighter and had delved into darker parts of the world than her. He had seen a light though, his tactics became less brutal in order to bring not fear but hope to his city, Gotham. The black symbol on his grey suit fitted his moniker, along with the blades on his gauntlets, his cape and the twin eared cowl that concealed the handsome features of Bruce Wayne, billionaire recluse and philanthropist, also known as Batman.

"You aren't the only one who has been having dreams Flash," he said and Barry's eyes grew wide in surprise.


"So, how have you been feeling?"

It was the question he heard nearly every time he went to Dr Quinnzel's office. The Brooklyn based psychiatrist sat at her side of the therapy room, toned legs crossed over one another. She was an Olympic hopeful but had chosen to become a doctor. Alex had always liked her, she had a nice smile, but there were times he could see her without the glasses, with paler skin and bleached blonde hair. That was why for a time he tried to avoid their sessions, but with the other things he was seeing now, the brown haired young man knew he needed help. It was never something he could admit to, until it was too late and he ended up having to use a wheelchair.

"I can't sleep," he told her.

"Another nightmare?" she asked.

"Yes, do you mind if I describe it?"

"Of course not Alex, that's what we're here for," Harleen said.

He gulped nervously, wiping his eyes, adjusting the back of his chair so that he could look at the ceiling.

"Lately I've been having very, very strange dreams, the kind that go beyond what my parents would do to me and my brother," Alex said.

"What would they do, you've never told me Alex, we've been seeing each other for five years, what did they do?" Harleen asked.

"They never laid a finger on us, they were much smarter and crueller than that, but that's not what has been bothering me, my parents were without love and that's that. What keeps me up at the night is the thought of seeing another life," Alex explained.

"Often we do imagine ourselves living different lives," she said.

"But seeing those lives, I dream that I'm walking, as in actually walking, I've made a machine that fixed my spine," his voice cracked a bit.

"You are an excellent engineer Alex, but that seems like a fantasy," Harleen said.

"Maybe it is, I mean the dreams I have seem so wondrous, I'm…I'm a hero in some of these dreams, I'm fighting alongside super heroes, saving the world and then watching it end," Alex stated.

"Watching it end?"

"Nearly every dream ends with the sky going red, it spreads like an ocean across the world, I'm screaming something, some kind of equation and then…then I wake up," Alex shook his head.

"Oh Alex, that does sound like a fantasy, an end of the world fantasy born of your own self-loathing, sometimes our failures can seem like the end of the world, sometimes when we don't see the point anymore we just slip into a fatalistic view," she explained.

"I read somewhere that our dreams are a window into our other lives, do you know about the Multiverse theory?" Alex asked.

"I'm familiar with it, it makes for great comic books, strange dreams can be our way of telling us something, or sometimes they just make no sense at all. The world is filled with tragedy, but there are no superheroes, maniacs in costumes, like the guy in Gotham," Harleen explained.

"Which one, Batman or Riddler?"

"Either or both, the point is Alex, you're always going to be critical of yourself, but there are a lot of good things in your life," she stated.

"Are there? I don't have anyone," he said.

"You have…oh dear, our time is up, we should carry this on tomorrow maybe," Harleen said.

"If there is a tomorrow," Alex muttered.

He noticed the way she looked at him, that understanding in her eyes, that hesitance. She was beautiful like this, normal, not mad. But she was his doctor, it wasn't appropriate. He left her office, rolled down the street and began making his way back to his apartment. The convenience store still had some papers, the front page showed the latest from the situation in Gotham.


30th July

A body was found on Gotham harbour, the victim was dressed up in a purple suit. The harbour water had done little to wash away the white makeup on the victim's skin. He had green hair; his appearance suggested he was some kind of clown. There never was much love for clowns in this town, after the Smith killings. No one is really telling jokes anymore, just struggling to survive through the flood water and the looting. A kid found the body; he'd been fishing, when he saw me, his eyes lit up. It isn't the reaction I set out for; it contrasted the reaction of the looters I took down after. They were the assaulters from the train station; they'd altered their face paint, now they look like clowns. Maybe it was a coincidence; even after a few broken bones they didn't know anything about the body. Gordon knew nothing too, DNA showed no match.

Cause of death was a fish in the man's throat.

5th August

Another body was found, this time with a message.

"Worst Joker ever."

It got leaked to the media, a reporter from out of town coined them 'The Joker murders'. The victim was a different age, but male, he had shorter green hair, white skin and tattoos. His teeth had been replaced with gold and silver, he was found wearing a purple leather jacket. There was no ID, and again no match from DNA records, not even the gold fillings or the tattoos could be tracked. Did he do them himself? That's the question, Gordon had a nicotine smell to him, I don't blame him for taking up smoking again. Two bodies, both of which by any standard shows that they are men who don't exist. The victim had multiple blunt force wounds, broken ribs, ruptured internal organs; cause of death was blunt force trauma to the skull, most likely a crowbar.

People are saying that the city is getting crazier. Someone was swimming through the flood, an old cage fighter, Waylon Jones, he was suffering from a skin condition that made his skin dry and harden. People called him 'Killer Croc' because of this, he was killing scavengers across town, then eating them. He's been sent to Arkham, deemed unhealthy, in need of help, crazy, that's what people are calling the streets now. That reporter, Vicki Vale, says it's because of me. I look at the streets and I wonder if she's right, did Batman create the need for hope?

11th August

A new body was found, dressed up like the original body but the purple of the suit was darker. His skin was bleached like the others, and his lips had been turned upwards into a permanent grin. He was older than the previous victim, he had numerous cards in his pockets. The message left on him said 'That's more like it, give it up for Jack Napier,' that isn't a coincidence. It was an alias used by the Arkham Patient John Smith, I visited him and he just laughed, he said that he liked the guy's style, and that it was about time he started making this town love clowns again. He then said the same thing he always says, 'You think they deserved it, you think they deserved it.'

I could still remember his laughing when I went into the narrows, workers in the Gotham sewage system were still missing, Waylon Jones confirmed he hadn't killed them. Gotham PD was going to fly in divers, but they would have been too late. I used the experimental equipment to dive and swim through the flooded areas. Otis Flannegan was found in one of the areas, he had killed his partner, his reason: 'He was trying to eat the rats, the rats saved us.' Doctors believe that he broke in there, cut off from the world, trapped, desperate for escape, so he found saviours.

Bella Real ran a press conference, she called me the reason Riddler did what he did, the reason why the flooded region of Gotham has been called 'No Man's Land'. She's right, I did inspire madness, she thinks I can't inspire hope, maybe I can't. I saved a murderer's life today, but the night ended with me saving a dog.

4th October

Another victim, again this one has been named. Arthur Fleck, he was wearing makeup, but he had the same colour motive. A longer note was left this time, 'What do you get when you cross a mentally ill-loner with a society that abandons him and treats him like Trash? I'll tell you what you get Arthur Fleck, you get the hell over it you whiney mockery of the name Joker!'

The cause of death was a gunshot to the back of the head.

I was going to see Smith today, but police band caught a break on the Alice Jones kidnapping. The kidnapper was a man named Jervis Tetch, he had kidnapped the girl and tried to recreate Lewis Carol's Alice and Wonderland, dressed her up, drugged her. Gordon was good at comforting her, 'I'm a father,' he said. I never knew that.

Together we found that girl and saved her life, I can't do this alone, I wonder now if I even should do it alone. I nearly beat Tetch to death, I can't let myself go to that place, Selina stopped me before, who will stop me next time?

29th January

Two more bodies were found, one woman, one teenage girl, the woman had bleached white skin and the teenage girl was Asian, dressed in street clothes. Her throat was cut, left with the note 'Now she's Cassandra Cain!'


The man with the misted glasses hummed as he looked over the case file. A glass screen and wire separated him from a man he once considered a hero. He certainly looked the part of a knight, dressed from head to toe in heavy black and grey plates of armour, all of them welded to his suit. Pieces of a gun formed the shape of a bat on his chest plate, the heaviest and most durable part of his armour and what the idiot thugs of Gotham would pick as their target to shoot. Edward Nashton was no brawler, and he wasn't so foolish as to dismiss the Gotham's 'Vengeance' as simply anger and violence. His was focused violence, and yes he was a detective, even the best detectives relied on a consultant, and Edward knew he was smarter than the Batman.

"She's beautiful, but not entirely unexpected," Edward traced a hand over the photo of the older victim.

"What do you mean?" the Batman asked, his voice deep, straight and to the point.

"Note the calluses on her knuckles, those aren't defensive, the blood on her heels, this one was a fighter, violence, such violence she was capable of," Edward muttered.

"The note said, 'now the Joker's bitch, who next?' that establishes the connection," Batman said.

"And the connection may very well be the motive, what do all the bodies have in common besides what's on the surface?" Edward asked.

"Different methods were used to kill them, there's no connection between the means of their deaths."

"Oh that just shows a lack of empathy on your part," Edward shook his head. "It's the feelings, it's the same reason I killed the mayor, I killed the DA, I killed Falcone, hatred Batman, whoever killed these people hated them and believed that they deserved to die," Edward explained.

"None of the bodies appear in any database, save for the woman, who is currently alive," Batman stated.

"Yet here is a double, no facial surgery, so could it be that you are dealing with victims who don't exist on our planet, a mystery that cannot be solved by conventional means. 'What is a dream when it is real? What is real but a dream?' The still living victim had no relatives, yet they share the exact DNA, a long-lost twin or something impossible?"

"That's all you gleamed from it, a motive and more riddles?" Batman asked.

"Those are the riddles you have to answer," Edward smirked.

"Fine, maybe the other guy is smart enough to figure it out," Batman said.

"I have figured it out, it just isn't an answer that you will accept," Edward snapped.

"So what is it then?" Batman turned towards the cell, glaring at the man who flooded his home.

"The Daily Planet's observer magazine reported strange phenomenon appearing in the sky, most dismissed it as the hallucinations or fabrications of a group of men desperate for there to be something wonderful about their world, what they recorded seeing was an affect similar to the affects solar winds cause on the magnetosphere…"

"An aurora, but blue," Batman said.

"Then you already know the answer Batman, but you just can't accept it, you're not insane, I'm not wrong," Edward, the Riddler's voice became even more desperate as Batman turned away and made his way to the door. "What dreams have you been having Batman? I dreamed I worked for Bruce Wayne once, I dreamed I destroyed your cave," he pushed against the glass, banging his fist against it when Batman walked through the door, away from him again.

"OTHER WORLDS EXIST BATMAN! OTHER WORLDS EXIST!" the Riddler screamed.

Gotham's vigilante returned to the cave located under Wayne tower, he didn't take his equipment or mask off as he sat down, removing from his drawer an unfinished case book. Removing his gloves, he took up a pen and began to write.

January 30th

I dreamt that I killed someone this morning. Clad in the armour of the Batman I killed people. I threw a man off of a blimp, slid a bomb through another's belt. In an entirely different version of the suit, I let a man die.

"I don't have to kill you, but I don't have to save you either," I said, as if there was some difference.

Other worlds exist; we all saw it in the sky the day the blue aurora appeared, a window that showed us another Earth different from ours. After scouring through the recording from the Fox satellite I've seen how different this other world is. Everything that was seen occurred at a rapid pace, but when slowed, it forms a picture, a summary video of that Earth's history. I see a man, a man who can fly.

Bruce looked away from his journal; he could see another alert from the cameras he had set up through the city. The signal was blaring again; the police radio reported a murder.


He floated over the planet he called home, images of a man he called father replaying in his head over and over.

"You're not just anyone, Clark, and I have to believe that you're–that you're sent here for a reason. All these changes you're going through, one day–one day, you're going to think of them as a blessing, and when that day comes, you're going to have to make a choice: a choice of whether to stand proud in front of the human race or not."

Clark Kent shook his head at the memory, a memory of a man who believed in him. But part of Clark began to wonder if Jonathon Kent truly believed in people doing good things.

"Be their saviour, be their symbol Clark, or be nothing at all. You don't owe this world a thing!"

A woman he still called his mother.

"This symbol means something, for some people it's all they have!"

And the woman he loved, they all influenced him one way or another. But lately he had begun to wonder what he would be without them, or what kind of man he would have been if they were different. Barry spoke with amazed glee about the existence of a Multiverse, Victor spoke of a vision of the future the Mother box had shown him, mathematical certainty that Lois and their child would die and because of that, Superman would turn on the world. Bruce of course remained quiet about the nightmares he was having, but Clark had come to know the man enough to know when something was bothering him. He had come to know that for all Bruce believed in him and called him friend, he was also afraid of him. For a long time, Clark had been afraid of himself.

'We only come to know the true power of evil, when we work to suppress it in ourselves,' he thought.

"If you love these people so much, then you can mourn for them."

"Don't do this, STOP!"

SNAP!

He had sentenced Colonel Hardy, Dr Hamilton and the other Kryptonians to death when he proposed using the Phantom zone. But Zod was the first person he had killed with his own hands. Every time he went into a fight he wondered and hoped it wouldn't turn out like that. Sometimes it kept him up at night, mulling over whether he should have killed Zod, whether there was another way to end it. Then the dreams started, other Supermen.

A Superman who saved Smallville and the world, before even donning his suit.

A Superman who reversed time just to save the woman he loved.

A Superman who worked alongside Lois in exposing lies and corruption, proving Clark Kent the reporter was just as much a hero as Superman.

A Superman who left the world to a cousin to protect, so that he could raise a son.

A Superman who still protected the world, all whilst raising two teenage boys.

A Superman who stood as an icon alongside the greatest heroes of Earth and beyond, a Justice league whose roster seemed unlimited.

That left the question, what kind of Superman was he?

He looked at his Justice League communicator, the call was going out. Clark was about to fly back down to Earth when he noticed something behind him. It looked like a tear of some kind, as if the space in front of him had been torn to reveal something underneath it. He looked through the hole and saw planet Earth, he looked deeper and saw a battle taking place in a town. Deeper still he could see the conflict and danger, and the struggle to save lives.

"What was I supposed to do, just let him die?"

"I don't know…maybe."

He shook his head, he missed his father, but he would never be uncertain again.


Sven Reilly, wanderer, private investigator, bearer of the spirit of heroism, Aeon, looked into the chaotic portal. He had dreams, about a girl who could make portals like it (hers were star shaped, because…) and the times her fear often led her to making those portals as an escape. This felt less like an escape and more like an invasion. What emerged from it made Harkness drop her smirk and narrow her eyes in fear, fear she hadn't felt since Wanda condemned her to live as the nosy neighbour she pretended to be.

'She's going to run,' something told Sven.

He let the chaotic power course through him, for a moment at least. Wanda lost herself as much to her own power as to her grief and the dark hold. Sven had his own darkness to contend with, he wouldn't lose himself to someone else's. His silent vow was followed by the arrival of his enemy, a limb slamming into the dirt. Then that scream, that mixed scream of agony. Sven's power was fusion, the joining of elements, even multiple souls. Sometimes his voice would echo with another's.

The two voices he heard, a man and a woman were in pain, desperate for someone to save them. When they emerged from the portal they were a mass of shaking, vibrating flesh, hair and fabrics, the fabrics being white and red and the hair being blonde and brown. Male and female had merged into a horrific parody of the rebus, their muscles expanded grotesquely so that they towered over anyone of average height. Even their arms were longer, one hand joined to another to create a club like stump on the right arm. A smaller, woman's leg was dragged behind a massive leg made of three joined legs. There was that storm of energy and just as part of Aeon predicted, Agatha darted into the air.

She was fleeing, but she was a good distraction for the Rebus, which moved like lightning towards her. Red energy burst out of Sven's eyes, a projectile similar to what Wanda would throw. It hit its mark just barely before it could hit Agatha, striking the side of the Rebus and knocking it to the ground. Aeon bounded forward, Agatha, he would deal with later, he had someone to save.

The Witch flew, she wasn't capable of subsonic flight, but she could be fast if she needed to be. Her priority was getting as far away from the fight, from damned Westview as possible. Maybe she would find Maximoff, visit her for a little revenge, or maybe she would do nothing, because freedom tasted good. She certainly wasn't going to turn back and help some hero do good against a monster he was outmatched by.

'Nope, definitely not, no way,' she thought.

She stopped for a moment, just to see if the hero was as outmatched as she thought. That was the moment when something went through the air. With a 'thwip' it travelled, hitting Agatha on the neck. Electric pulses coursed through her body, disrupting her nerves, inducing a pain that stopped her heart briefly and took her breath away. It was enough to put Agatha under, her unconscious form falling to the grass.

Aeon could tell that the Rebus was fast, so fast that it dodged his attempts to grab it. But it was filled with pain and rage, so much that it wanted a fight. He braced himself, ready to take a blow, all he needed was a chance to touch it. It came towards him, rearing back its fused fist. Suddenly, a beam of light struck the poor creature, knocking it into a tree.

"No," Aeon gasped.

He was immediately putting himself between the creature and the ones who came down from the sky. One golden haired, shining with energy like the starburst symbol on her blue and red outfit, Carol Danvers, Captain Marvel. Alongside her, floating on a purple, crystal like platform, nails painted with chaotic colours (not good for hiding one's secret identity) a Domino mask over her face and a gold lightning bolt (or at least resembled one) over the blue vest of her red suit. The energy the dark-haired teenager generated seemed to come from her gold bangle. Then there was their leader, her white and black battle suit resembled Danvers's slightly, though blue energy glowed around her, Monica Rambeau, director of S.W.O.R.D. (for now). Good, that meant he could reason with them.

"Please, wait," Aeon said.

He kept his hands raised, not too hostile, and not as if he was begging either. Then he started to think, maybe I should beg, as Danvers flew straight towards him.

"Danvers what are you doing?" Maria asked.

Sven felt his brain shake when Danvers punched him, photons charging her fists. She was shining like a super saiyan, beating him down with one hand and blasting the Rebus with the other.

"Stop it, that creature needs help," he grabbed both her hands, his eyes flaring as he tried to restrain her.

The ground was shaking, car alarms went off and the people of Westview were again treated to a chaotic crisis that threatened their safety.

"We need to put it down," Danvers said.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Aeon demanded.

Monica looked between the struggling heroes and the flailing and screaming creature that had emerged from the tear. She charged her hands with energy, aiming at the creature, it was a danger. But then she lowered her fists, there was always another side to the story. Her communicator pinged, her connection to Darcy Lewis, who was serving as support for the team.

"Boss, something just hit the upper atmosphere, it is way too…"

Monica was familiar with sonic booms, created when the sound barrier was broken. This however seemed more like a 'puff' as something moved from the lower atmosphere, to the ground. It slammed in between Aeon and Danvers, knocking them both back.

"Fast," just as Darcy finished her statement in shock.

It was a man in a blue mesh suit with a red cloak. He stood up from his crouched position, eyes glowing blue.

"That's enough!" he proclaimed.


The Raft

"You've had dreams, haven't you? It's okay, you don't have to answers, dreams of what you've lost, of what you could have, dreams of losing all of that again and again and again. All whilst those who claim to fight for good fail, because of ego, because of morality, all the things' people like you and I can put aside for the sake of the goal. Despite our differences we have much alike, we both believe in a cause that goes beyond traditional views of good and evil, in a world where so many misuse power we are willing to take it to do what is necessary."

Kang leant against the chrome wall outside the cell he was looking through. He had removed his helmet, revealing himself fully to the man on the other side.

"Something is coming, moving through the darkness, many people are seeing it in their dreams yet still they deny it. Just as they will deny it when the dust has settled, but why restore the old status quo, why settle for something old when you can make something new?" he asked before he leant against the cell bars, his suit having already shut down the security systems.

"People like you and I shouldn't settle for being bit players in history, we deserve to and more importantly are capable of being not only this world, but an entire Multiverse's Masters!"

For the first time since the stranger arrived, Zemo looked up from his book, intrigued.

Next Chapter 4: Monsters across the Multiverse


I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, considering the beginning and the subject matters in the middle. Were they critiques of the She-Hulk show (which I actually enjoyed until the end, if that wasn't established :) other Batmen and Jokers? Perhaps, we haven't had another Superman story (on live action film) for years, I always felt we should have gotten a Man of Steel 2 before they dived into the DCEU.

Man of Steel Superman's character arc in this story is based on the critics of Man of Steel, is he the Superman the world needs, what can he do to be the Superman people need? I liked Man of Steel, it had its problems, but I always felt the natural progression of his movies was for him to become that Superman we see in the comics, the powerful but simply good man. Similarly The Batman follows an arc of what more can he be for his city, with hope absent in his city can he be the one to bring that hope? As well as a meeting of Batmen, this series will also see the Man of Steel and The Batman meet.

Whilst next chapter its Superman vs the Marvels

Deadpool: Spoiler alert, it isn't a fight, it's a massacre!