This universe was born quite recently. The actions of Doctor Fate and Magneto altered history in nearly unfathomable ways. Where two stories ended, another began. In this chapter of our journey, we look at the true consequences of a hero's death.

After the creation of the Amalgam, an entire history was written into the minds of the newly created inhabitants. Families, teams, and interpersonal relationships were torn apart, reshuffled around, and unnaturally pasted back together. But for the inhabitants, everything was normal. Rather than grappling with abstract concepts of reality and identity, the champions of the Amalgam Universe had to deal with the loss of a dear friend who preserved order and justice in this world for decades.

Without him, the Fatal Compass, the heroes left behind would have to face the chaos of the world without him. Picking up the pieces after a heavy loss is a trial many must deal with at some point. And thus, we will see the burdens of Fate and learn what exactly the Fatal Compass left behind. I am the Phantom Watcher, the once Spirit of Justice, and an observer the same as you, who must not interfere with the newly unfolding universe. I will be your guide in understanding the narrative labyrinth that is the Amalgam and its champions.

The following evening since our last delve into this universe places us at the top of St. Anlee's Chapel. A dark figure perched at the steeple, listening, surveying, zeroing in on the crime that plagues the city of Goth's Kitchen. The red eyes of a bat-eared cowl see nothing, but the Blind Bat watches over all of it. The creature of the night compensates for his lack of sight with all his other senses enhanced tenfold, allowing for something akin to radar. Every car, all the chatter from every citizen, the creak of a settling building, it all painted a beautiful menagerie for the Bat to absorb. With that massive point of view, he knew where danger lurked, and who needed him most.

Earlier that day, the Blind Bat had rescued his compatriot Thunderman from being beaten to death with a crowbar. His second ward, Jason Castle, known then as Pupil, had underwent a similar fate at the hands of his enemy, the Killing Joke. So saving his friend was somewhat vindicating to the Bat. The crowbar itself resided in the "Batacombs," saving it for analysis.

The Blind Bat refers to himself as a "part-timer" for the League of Marvelous Individuals. He would participate in world ending events, but often, the Bat would just say he was "busy". This was actually quite true, as Goth's Kitchen was an urban wasteland that required constant upkeep and maintenance. Where the others of this world expressed a desire to save the world, the Blind Bat was ironically tunnel visioned. His mission was to his city. Upon hearing the sound of metal tearing from a mile away, the Bat held out his cane, and fired a grappling hook off into the night. With a running start, the Blind Bat leapt off the chapel and swung into action, as his mission tonight began.

A not so brief history on the Blind Bat's crusade: Goth's Kitchen was home to multiple different factions and crime families. Rife with corruption in the police and local government, it was a perfect home for the superstitious and cowardly lot of criminals to reside. It used to be under the control of his true archnemesis; Wilson Bane, the Kingpain. Bane once held an entire crime empire under his massive thumb. He controlled nearly residentiary area and held a stranglehold on most businesses. Bane was a venom on Goth's Kitchen, he clashed with Blind Bat criminally and physically. For eight years, the Bat would battle to banish Bane behind bars. And just seven months ago, right before the League of Marvelous Individual's clash against Ghanoseid, he had succeeded. After exposing Bane's extensive criminal activity to the public, he was remanded to the Asylum as well for his psychopathic tendencies. It also hadn't hurt that the Blind Bat had beat Wilson half to death that same night. That was a very good day for the Blind Bat.

Since Bane's fall, Goth's Kitchen has been quieter. Crime was at an all-time low with the watchful ear of the Blind Bat uninhibited. Bane divided the area up amongst his lieutenants, but they lacked the gravitas to do anything overtly sinister. His accountant Leland Cobblepot, the Kiwi, opened a nightclub and went legitimate. His attorney and assistant, E. Wesley Nygma went underground to operate his territory from the shadows. Bane's enforcer Lawrence Crane, a chemist who called himself Mr. Scary was the Blind Bat's most recent capture, sending the mad doctor to Ryker's Asylum. Goth's Kitchen was slowly being reclaimed by its good citizenry, and it was all because of the Blind Bat's unwavering dedication to them.

Despite the quiet, the Blind Bat remained vigilant of his city. Even without the main offenders, crime persisted, but on a smaller scale. A mugging here, a drug deal gone wrong there, the occasional C-List masked crook trying to fill the gaps there, but it wasn't anything that the Blind Bat or any of his other local allies couldn't handle. He had been fighting this mission for just about 20 years at this point, and despite everything, he displayed no signs of hanging the mantle up.

Under the cape and cowl, the Blind Bat was Matthew Wayne, a well renown attorney who defend those who could not defend themselves. The irony of being a lawyer and a vigilante was not lost on him, nor the fact he was a lawyer and Catholic. Matt was the head partner of the law firm Wayne and Grayson. Wayne would defend poorer clients pro-bono, garnering considerable goodwill from the people of Goth's Kitchen. Meanwhile his partner, and first "Pupil", Franklin "Foggy" Grayson would take on higher profile cases to bring in the needed funding to build their practice and various philanthropic efforts. His enhanced hearing had also benefitted Wayne's legal practice. He became a human lie detector through listening to his client's heartbeats. Wayne's knack for always knowing the truth made him quite terrifying in the courtroom. Matthew Wayne would use the law defend the people when society failed them, and then the Blind Bat would be there when the law failed them.

Wayne was no billionaire; he had no advanced gadgets aside from the grapple in his baton. All his wealth went to the people of Goth's Kitchen. Unfortunately, it never seemed like enough.

There was a need to balance both sides of himself, an obsession to do everything at once. The Blind Bat had an infallible dedication to justice, and a desire to control every facet of that crusade. Despite having friends in high places with the League of Marvelous Individuals, he asserted that he protected his city without them. It wasn't that Wayne didn't trust the members of the League, he did, at least to a point. Wayne simply had his own people, the "Knights of Goth's Kitchen", he called them which he could better corral and lead than the legion of Gods he somehow stood amongst. In fact, he was patrolling through the city with one of them now.

Swinging through the urban jungle on a grappling hook beside the Blind Bat was a boy around eighteen, clad in red and black tights, yellow belts strapped to his chest adorned with pouches, jet black hair, and most distinctively: a gold visor with a glowing red strip where the eyes would be. This was Wayne's third Pupil, Tim Summers. He had been aiding the Bat Without Fear for around four years at this point, and he was instrumental in the fall of Wilson Bane with his diligent detective work.

"Where are we going, Blind Bat? What's going on?" Summers asked curiously as the duo landed atop a rooftop overlooking the cultural district of Goth's Kitchen.

"History museum. I heard the sound of ripping metal," the Bat explained before flinching, sensing something else coming from the museum. "And the sound of broken glass. The robber is sloppy, but strong. Can't be Selina, she's too careful. Pupil, have there been any new artifacts added to the museum in the past few weeks," the Bat asked further as he aimed his grapple again to fire down to the museum roof.

Pupil simply pulled out his phone and started searching up any news about the museum. The Blind Bat was obviously blind, so despite his radar sense, any device with a screen was essentially useless to him. Tim Summers had no such disability, though his visor made everything appear red to him. "Nope, nothing that valuable. There was that chunk of Vibranium, but that's been sent back to Wakatlantis."

The Blind Bat pondered the nature of this break-in as he fired off his grapple. The hook latched onto the ledge of a wall and the line went taught. "I guess we'll just have to find out," the Bat proposed, fixing the cable to a pole atop the roof they stood on. He then took his baton and glided down the cable like a zipline.

Pupil pulled a collapsible staff from his utility belt and slid down on the cable to land at the front of the museum. Rather than any fancy entrance, the dynamic duo went into the museum through the front door. Strangely, there weren't any alarms going off. Though perhaps that was a blessing since the blaring loud sirens would be enough to overwhelm the Blind Bat's enhanced senses.

The museum was dark, the only light was the glowing red strip coming from the Pupil's visor. It had been like the whole museum had been hit by an electromagnetic pulse. The Blind Bat was quiet, concentrating on the inner workings of the building now that he was inside it. "There's two people here. One heartbeat is fast, erratic, the other is slowed. The intruder's knocked out the security guard. Let's go," The Blind Bat deduced and ordered with urgency, breaking off into a sprint through the halls of the museum with Pupil in tow.

Past the various exhibits throughout the museum, the two heroes arrived in a wing of the building dedicated to the Marvelous Society of America. Paintings and dioramas dramatizing the exploits of their heroism. Wax statues of the heroes of the Golden Age circled the center of the main hall. Each statue was surrounded by memorabilia in glass cases emblematic of each member. And at the center of the room, a life size bronze statue atop a marble pedestal of the Fatal Compass.

After the death of Erik Nelson, the world mourned him as the greatest hero the world would ever know. The museum, curated by one Logan Hall, had the statue built in the sorcerer's honor. The statue was mainly monochromatic, the body and costume were a pristine metallic brass. But distinctly, the helmet of the statue was a much better quality. The helmet was ruby red with a gold trim. The open faceplate was shaped like the Egyptian ankh of Fate. It sparkled from the skylight. Compared to the immaculately designed helmet, the rest of the statue looked cheap. Perhaps the helmet sitting atop this statue was the real thing. No, that would be hopelessly reckless. An artifact of such mystical power wouldn't be so recklessly placed in a normal museum.

Then one realizes that this museum was owned and operated by Logan Hall, the immortal once member of the MSA, Wolfhawk. The member in question was the epitome of reckless action, and he was known for many sentimental, but poorly thought-out gestures. There was a non-zero possibility that the helmet on that statue was the real thing, and any thief worth their salt could easily steal and gain godlike power.

Said thief worth their salt was the current threat the Blind Bat and Pupil were facing. The burglar was a woman draped in a dark green cloak with a white mask covering the top half of her face. At first, they were knelt at the base of the statue in silent contemplation. As she heard the two arrive, she drew a katana from their cloak and turned to face them. "Blind Bat. I was wondering when I would have to face you," she greeted in a distinct Japanese accent. Her voice was wrapped in a cold self-assurance.

The Blind Bat readied a pair of batons from his belt, "You're not getting out of here with that helmet. We can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. It's in your hands." He propositioned in a calm, but firm voice. He'd prefer they not fight, but that rarely happens. There's always a fight for the Blind Bat.

The cloaked figure took an offensive stance with their weapon and beckoned the two to advance with their free hand. "I am only taking back what was wrongfully placed here, but if it is an honorable duel you desire, I shall indulge," she replied with almost a boredom. The mysterious figure seemed disinterested with this battle and was only doing so out of necessity to get the Bat off her back.

Pupil was cautious, he knew better than to charge in recklessly, "What's the plan, do we just stay where we are, Mexican Standoff style?" he asked the Bat unsure of what to do.

"You, no. There's a security guard somewhere in the wing. Heartbeat is slow, he's unconscious. He might need medical attention. Find and assist him. I'll handle her." The Bat ordered coolly.

"Fine, but the next fight's mine." Pupil urged before taking out his grappling hook and firing it off to search the upper floor of the wing. Perhaps a small level of annoyance came with being repeatedly sidelined in combat, but Summers knew his role and would fulfill it for the sake of the people.

Before the Blind Bat could say anything else to diffuse the situation, the cloaked woman charged in with her blade and sliced at the caped crusader. The Bat would parry with one baton and lunged the other towards her midsection. She would jump back and swing her blade to force distance between them. The two combatants would dance around the room, clashing weapons, and narrowly avoid potentially fatal strikes.

The Blind Bat fought back with a combination of his batons and his agility. He had the fury of a boxer with the finesse of an acrobat. His senses gave the Bat perfect awareness of where her sword was coming from and where to. Like a nimble devil, the Blind Bat dodged and weaved through the swordswoman's attacks. Amidst it all, he would retaliate with quick jabs with his fists, followed by whacks of his batons. Where that would otherwise fail, the museum exhibits and statues provided adequate cover. If need be, Wayne could pay for any damages. So any destruction wasn't a major concern for the Blind Bat.

By contrast, the woman was still skilled with her weapon, but lacked the polish of the Bat's technique. Her strikes barely grazed the Bat as he practically flew around her. But where she lacked in precision, she made up for in raw power. Despite a petite frame, the woman swung with great might. This was not a result of mere adrenaline or rage; this ferocity came from the weapon. It was almost as if the blade was guided by an outside force. But that surprising power was no match for the Blind Bat's skill. With a few quick blows to the arms, the Bat disarmed her and sent the sword flying into the wall, planting itself right between the statues of the Midnight Angel and the Spirit of 60 Minutes.

The Bat held a baton to the woman's face, "I don't want any more trouble out of you. Why are you even here?"

The woman didn't seem all that dismayed by losing the duel, "You are a worthy opponent." were the first words to exit her mouth, "This was an educating experience, but I'm taking the helmet, for it is my burden to bear." She continued with a determined expression. The woman called out her hand, and with a quiet "shing", the sword was plucked from the wall and flew back to her hand. She then smacked the flat of the blade across the side of the Blind Bat's face.

Blind Bat fell to the wayside as he rubbed the side of his face. The strike stung, but he was still taking in the surprise of what just happened. He then started to hear the grating noise that was tearing metal. It was coming from the statue. The woman sheathed her weapon and held out both of her hands. The brass of the statue was ripping apart like it was wet clay. This woman had the power of magnesis. The Blind Bat had only known this power from one other, the Fatal Compass.

The woman tore the statue limb from limb. The chunks of brass orbited around her like planets to the Sun, until the head of the statue became her Mercury. With a flick of her wrist, what used to be the arms of the statue flew towards the Blind Bat. The arms reshaped into shackles and pinned him to the ground. The Bat struggled against them, but to no avail. The woman stared at the head with a somber look on her face. Beyond the helmet lay an opening, presenting a visage of Erik Nelson's face. "He was a good man, was he not?" she had asked with a slight crack in her voice.

"I knew him personally; we had our disagreements, but I respected him deeply. Why do you want the helmet anyway? Who are you?" The Bat asked, still trying to break his way out from the steel restraints.

"My name is Lorna Toru, wielder of the Polar Blade, and I am here because I want to give my father a proper burial." the woman proclaimed. At this point, her voice was full of sorrow. "This helmet is all that's left of him. I'm taking it back to Kyoto, so he can finally be at rest."

The Blind Bat was baffled by the revelation. The Fatal Compass had two children to his knowledge. One of them was even on the League. But the fact that Erik Nelson was able to hide something so important as a secret child from his trusted allies for multiple decades was mind boggling. "The Fatal Compass received a hero's memorial. If you wish to see him, his ashes are held in the Valhalla Cemetery in Fawcett," he explained, trying to deescalate the situation while still trying to wrap his head around the secret kid thing.

Lorna scoffed at the Bat's response, "A hero's burial. Your creed's arrogance sickens me," she said through a scowl, "My father never wanted to be seen as some superhero. To lie among them would be an insult to his legacy. The other self-proclaimed heroes of this world are the writers of their own ballads. You disappear for months on end to battle a monster across the stars, while the sins of men decay this world from the inside. Had my father not been dragged along with the rest of you to liberate some planet lightyears away, he could have been there to protect my mother!"

The Blind Bat was put aback, but he kept his composure. He focused on Lorna, listening in on her inner workings. He knew she wasn't lying, every word she spoke came straight from a steady beating heart. "I believe you, and I'm sorry for your loss. I know how that pain feels." He answered with sympathy, "But Haloa needed us. Interplanetary wars could have started had we not intervened. I don't know why he never told us about you, but we can make things right. You have other family you have the right to meet." The Bat truly wanted to help her. Everything he did was to avenge his parents, that loss molded him into who he was today. He wanted to guide Lorna through her grief the way he wished someone did for him.

"He never told you about us because he didn't trust you," Lorna answered as she forced the restrained Bat off the wall and drifted him towards her. "My father wanted an escape from the fantasy world he was forced into. He wanted just one part of his life not tainted by it." She continued as he rotated the Bat upside down, humorously hanging like a bat.

"Even after my mother was killed by the yakuza, he didn't want to bring me around. That was because he knew that if you saw what I could do, you'd snatch me up and put me on the team like the Human Lantern and the Sergeant once did to him." Lorna further elaborated, "So he taught me to use my powers and had an acquaintance of his train me with the blade to defend myself. All he wanted was a peaceful life for us. Then the world took him away from me."

She then raised her arm and lifted the restrained Blind Bat into the air. The Bat groaned as the metal tube he was trapped in grew tighter. Lorna began rotating the steel restraints to give a panoramic view of all the statues of the members of the Marvelous Society of America. This wasn't exactly necessary, as the Bat's radar allowed perception of the whole room anyway. But it seemed the wielder of the Polar Blade had a penchant for pageantry. As she rose the Bat into the air, Lorna started to tear apart the statue of her father. The way they turned the man into a martyr disgusted her. With a flick of the wrist, the brass statue was torn apart like pieces of wet cardboard. The chunks of metal bent, twisted, and contorted into abstract shapes; a visualization of a racing mind fueled by a flurry of rage and grief. Lorna knew nothing she did would bring her father back, but she felt the need to send a message.

"The neglect had not even started with you marvelous League. The society had started this fanaticism with false gods. My father was a child when they found him. He was a prisoner of the camps whose prayers were, for once, answered by God. This helmet descended to him from the Divine, and it him with powers that helped him free those who suffered alongside him. He didn't know how much of a curse that power would be later in life. He was a scared, angry little boy who faced the worst tortures no person should ever suffer. All the society saw was a weapon they could use against Hydra." Lorna spat out with great contempt for everything that created her father.

"Every time I heard you all talk about him on the news after a mission, or read recounts of him in the history books, he was a "troubled loner" with an anger streak. He was someone you all subtly feared for his power. None of you knew the man under the helmet, not like you wanted to. My father was nothing but a weapon for you heroes."

"Fate was a friend, Lorna." Blind Bat asserted. "He grew more distant with time, he never told us about his secret family, but he was more than just a weapon. Fate had his principles, his dedication to Justice was what I most respected about it."

"Fate, fate, how reductive. His name was Erik!" Lorna shouted. As she spoke, she manipulated the head of the sculpture to move down to her eye level. She held the brass effigy of her father's face, with the helmet still on it. Oddly, the helmet itself wasn't magnetic. The faceplate of the helmet would mystically open and close depending on if it was in use. As she looked upon it, she sniffled. "I hardly got to see his face the last few months." The head within the helmet then imploded in on itself, a product of her anger. It fell to the side like a crumpled-up piece of paper.

Lorna scoffed, "His obsession to preserving "order and justice" was the helmet commanding him. As he got older, it grew stronger." Lorna explained, her voice starting to break again. "The man who raised me slowly eroded away, and by the time the League united. He was nearly overtaken by this helmet. Every time you all needed some magic to clean up one of your messes, a small piece of my father was gone. I had to watch my father lose himself, so he could "save the world". He died because you were all too weak to save the world yourselves!" Lorna exclaimed as she clenched her hand. The metal restraining the Bat grew tighter, causing him to groan in pain.

"I don't know how much I truly knew of my father, but nobody deserves to have their life consumed by the spirits within this helmet. That's why this helmet is going in the ground, where no man will be burdened by it ever again." Lorna proclaimed with gusto.

The Blind Bat was quiet, he pondered her words. This was a girl mourning the death of a father who knew her less and she knew him more. The mission had quite literally consumed the Fatal Compass, and it made him question how much it was consuming him. Goth's Kitchen was on the rise now, but how long would that peace last? How long could he keep protecting his city? And in turn, it made the Bat question how much good the League of Marvelous Individuals truly did for the world. Were they, and the other superheroes of this world, worthy of being its protectors?

Before the Bat could give a response, Pupil had returned from the south end of the museum. He had a geriatric security guard slumped over his shoulder, asleep. Lorna hadn't even gotten to him; the old man was just sleeping on the job. "Bats, I got the guy, how're you holding…up?" the boy asked looking up at his mentor suspended by what appeared to be a large brass candy wrapper.

Lorna and Pupil looked at each other for a few moments, "It's my turn to fight, and she's got powers. This means I don't have to hold back!" Pupil said giddily.

"Hold back what?" Lorna asked, getting into a defensive stance, not sure what to expect from fighting this teenager.

"This!" Pupil responded as he put his fingers to the side of his visor, and with the press of a button, the red strip of the visor opened. And out from the yellow eyepiece, was a red stream of pure concussive force coming from the eyes of Tim Summers. Summers was what this universe called a "Metamutant", the evolution of humanity with a gene which unlocked special abilities from person to person with it. Pupil's metamutant power was the ability to expel concussive force from his eyes. The exact mechanics of this ability are unclear, but the visor on young Tim Summer's face's purpose is to keep all that energy contained until needed.

Lorna reacted on instinct, the shards of metal surrounding her flew to her front, shielding her from the initial assault. The blast punched through the metal and knocked Lorna to the floor. This break in concentration caused her to drop the Blind Bat, leaving the man wrapped in metal clattering on the floor like a quarter. The impact alone knocked the Blind Bat unconscious. "Stay out of this, boy. I do not wish to harm a child, but I can, and I will if that is what is required," she warned grimly.

"Sorry miss, but I can't let you go. That helmet shouldn't have been here to begin with, and we can't let it fall into the wrong hands," Pupil replied with a boy scout like level of righteousness. The boy set aside the sleeping guard, propping him up against the wall. Pupil then withdrew his staff and charged at the wielder of the Polar Blade.

Lorna was growing quite impatient with the dynamic duo as she staggered back to her feet. As the Summers boy grew closer, she felt the magnetic field of his visor. For all she knew, the power of optic blasts came from the visor itself. So, removing it made the most sense. She held out her hand and flicked towards her to yank the golden visor off the Pupil's face. This had unintended consequences.

Without the visor, there was nothing holding back the full force of Pupil's optic blast. Like a garden hose on shower instead of flat, a burst of unfiltered concussive force blasted Lorna back. She was sent flying like a ragdoll into the wax statue shrouded in shadow. Whoever the likeness of whom she destroyed was is unimportant, at least for now.

After that sudden burst of force, Tim shut his eyes, and he managed to put his visor back on. He looked over at Lorna covered in white and green wax, hopefully the statue broke her fall. Afterward he surveyed the area, he found the Helm of Iscariot and put it under his arm, "I gotta get a better strap for this thing," he mused to himself as he tapped the side of his visor.

Pupil then ran over to the downed Blind Bat; he looked up and down the twisted strip of brass holding his mentor. Pupil then took a deep breath as he pondered his next move, "Alright Tim, you've got to be surgical with this. Just enough power to cut this apart." He focused in on a single part of the brass, around the Bat's armored chest, and slowly turned the dial on the side of his visor. Then, a very thin optic blast came from the center of the visor. With a careful cutting motion, Pupil cut apart the stretched brass.

After Pupil was able to free the Blind Bat from the remains of the Fatal Compass' statue, he heaved up the Bat and leaned him against the marble podium of the statue. The Bat's faithful sidekick then proceeded to pull off his glove, and slapped him across the face with it, repeatedly.

This went on about five times before the Bat came to and grabbed the glove mid-slap. He glared at Pupil, the red eyes of the cowl narrowing to slits. The scowl turned to a smirk as he held the back of his head, the pain still reeling from the fall, "Thanks for the wake-up, my good chum." He said placing a hand on Pupil's shoulder and getting back to his feet.

"Just glad you're alright Blind Bat. What do we do with the katana lady over th-okay what the hell?" Pupil asked before looking over at the remains of the insignificant wax statue, only to see that Lorna was gone.

Blind Bat sighed, "We still have the helmet, the nightguard's not hurt, although he's probably going to get a serious reprimand for sleeping on the job. And anything broken can be replaced. Let's just get out of here. I'll make sure the helmet is taken back to Fa…Erik's old tower tomorrow. I'll take care of her later."

Pupil looked somewhat confused, "There something I should know about all this? You don't usually just let the perp run off like this."

"She's not just a perp, Tim. I'll explain the rest later, call Alfred and ask him to leave some tea in the Batacombs. You can take point for the night. I'll trust you'll keep things in order tonight," the Blind Bat answered, being uncharacteristically lax. This single encounter had mentally wiped him out.

"Ending your patrol early, leaving me alone? How hard did you hit your head, Bats?" Tim asked almost concerned as they walked out of the museum.

"I'm fine, things have just been put into perspective," The Blind Bat said taking the helm for himself to bring back to the Batacombs. He ran his fingers over the detailed molding, there was a lot that he had to do. If he were to truly do justice for the Fatal Compass, the Blind Bat would have to take on…

The Burdens of Fate