Earth Two (Db)
Over the next few hours, Goku painstakingly recounted the events that had transpired. Shock was etched across everyone's faces. "So, you're not our Goku?" Chi-Chi's voice was barely audible. Goku shook his head, unable to find the words.
Gohan stepped closer, curiosity and hope mingling in his eyes. He poked Goku, as if to verify his presence, then leaned in to smell him. Finally, he wrapped his arms around Goku in a tight embrace. "You feel like my dad to me," Gohan whispered, as if confirming the bond that transcended time and space.
Goku's return was met with a whirlwind of questions from his friends, their eyes reflecting a mix of disbelief and hope. As the days unfolded, the air cleared, and the bonds of friendship, once strained by uncertainty, now embraced Goku with renewed strength.
A week had passed since that reunion, and Goku found himself in the comforting embrace of home. The laughter of his family filled the air, a soothing balm to the scars of battle. Training remained a constant in his life, a discipline that now included Gohan occasionally. Surprisingly Chi-Chi wasn't as opposed as Goku feared.
One tranquil morning, as the sun cast its golden hues upon the land, Goku approached Gohan with a solemn promise of growth. "Gohan, the time has come to explore the depths of your power," he said with a gentle firmness. "Transform into a Super Saiyan." With a deep breath, Gohan summoned the fiery aura of the Super Saiyan, his hair igniting with the iconic golden blaze.
"Now, close your eyes," Goku continued, his voice a guiding light in the stillness. "Remember the void that gripped your heart when you thought I was lost to you." A single tear traced Gohan's cheek, a silent testament to the pain of the past. "And now, think of the moment when saving Piccolo was beyond your reach." The air around them vibrated with the rising tide of Gohan's power, the earth itself resonating with his strength.
"Embrace those feelings, Gohan," Goku urged. "Let them fuel your transformation." As Gohan's inner turmoil gave way to a fierce determination, his power soared to new heights, a storm of energy that danced around father and son.
"Well done, Gohan," Goku praised, pride swelling in his chest. Goku's words hung in the air "Imagine the consequences if you were unable to save your mother, or any of our friends," he said, his tone conveying the weight of their responsibility. Gohan's reaction was immediate and intense; a primal scream tore from his throat as his power surged to unprecedented levels, his aura blazing with the fierce light of a Super Saiyan. The sheer magnitude of his energy was enough to push Goku back, a testament to the untapped potential within his son.
However, the pinnacle of Gohan's power was fleeting. As quickly as it had exploded, it dissipated, leaving him drained. He collapsed to his knees, his breaths coming in heavy gasps, the toll of his exertion evident in every line of his body.
"That was amazing," Goku said, his voice filled with pride and admiration. "You've done well, Gohan, now let's return to your mother; she's likely to be anxious about our absence." They set off on the journey back, opting for the scenic route that meandered through the lush landscape. The tranquillity of nature was a balm to their spirits, and Goku found himself savouring the simple joy of the walk. It was a moment of peace, a rare gift that he cherished deeply, having missed such experiences during the tumultuous years of his youth.
That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the small house on Mount Paozu, Chi-Chi sat Goku down. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and nervousness. 'Goku,' she began, 'I have something important to tell you.'
Goku, ever the carefree spirit, grinned. He had a pretty good idea of what was coming. 'What is it, Chi-Chi?' he asked, feigning innocence.
'I'm pregnant,' she blurted out, unable to contain her joy any longer. Goku's grin widened. He already knew, Goten he thought. He had also sensed the change in her ki, the subtle shift that spoke of new life.
That night, as he lay in bed, the soft rustle of leaves outside the window, Goku's thoughts were full of contentment. His old world, the battles, the endless training, seemed to fall away. Now, it was about family, about the tiny life growing within Chi-Chi.
The next month was bliss. Goku spent lazy afternoons with Gohan, teaching him the art of fishing, sharing stories of his adventures. Worries vanished like morning mist, leaving behind a sense of peace. The void that had once consumed him was now filled with love and anticipation.
His bond with Gohan deepened. They trained together, not out of necessity to save the world, but simply because they enjoyed it. Gohan's laughter echoed through the forest as they sparred, the danger of imminent threats replaced by the thrill of friendly competition.
And then, two months after arriving in this dimension, Gohan achieved something extraordinary. His power surged, eclipsing everyone on Earth except for Goku himself. He ascended to a Super Saiyan form that radiated raw energy. Goku watched with pride as his son's hair turned golden, the air crackling around him.
Life had changed. The battles were different now, fought not just for survival but for the promise of a better future. Goku knew that this newfound bliss was fragile, that danger would return. But for now, he revelled in the warmth of family, in the knowledge that he was part of something greater than himself.
Earth One (Dc)
Clark had dedicated himself to rigorous training over the past month, striving to harness his extraordinary abilities. Yet, despite his efforts, Bruce remained unyielding in his assessment. It seemed that Bruce would never be satisfied with Clark's progress.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the dimly lit training room, Bruce approached Clark. His stern expression softened slightly, and he said, "Clark, you've come a long way. Tonight, we take the next step."
Clark arched an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean, Bruce?"
Bruce motioned for Clark to follow him. They ascended a narrow staircase, emerging into a secluded chamber. The room hummed with anticipation, its walls adorned with sleek, high-tech suits—each a testament to Bruce's relentless pursuit of justice.
"Clark," Bruce began, his voice low and deliberate, "I've designed a suit for you."
Clark's eyes widened. He hadn't expected this. "A suit? But why?"
Bruce's gaze bore into Clark's. "We're not just crimefighters," he explained. "We're symbols. Symbols that strike fear into the hearts of criminals. And with your powers, we can take that fear to a whole new level."
He pressed a concealed button, and a hidden compartment slid open, revealing the suit. It was reminiscent of Bruce's own attire—dark, imposing, and devoid of any insignia. The headpiece covered Clark's eyes and nose, leaving only a small opening for his mouth.
Clark studied the suit. "Why make me look like you?"
Bruce's lips curved into a half-smile. "Because, my friend, fear transcends physical form. When people see this costume, they won't just see a man—they'll see an enigma. A force beyond comprehension. They'll wonder if it harbours mystical powers, capabilities more potent than anything they've ever encountered."
Clark hesitated. "But why not inspire hope instead?"
Bruce's eyes gleamed. "Hope is fleeting," he said. "Fear endures. It's the primal instinct that keeps us alive. And sometimes, to protect this city, we must wield fear like a weapon."
As Clark donned the suit, he felt its weight settle on his shoulders. The fabric clung to his skin, and he wondered what kind of hero he would become. Would he be a beacon of hope or a harbinger of dread?
Bruce clasped his shoulder. "Remember, Clark," he said, "we're not just men. We're legends. And legends are born from darkness."
"You will need use your x-ray vision to be able to see, but it will further add to the mysticism of the Batman." Continued Bruce. The very notion of using his x-ray vision to peer through the mask heightening the mystique of Batman. As Clark nodded, he understood the unquestionable intelligence of Bruce.
That evening, they left the bat cave together: Bruce in the Batmobile, and Clark running just behind. They were heading to the docks because Bruce had intel about some trafficking activity. Stopping half a mile away, they walked the rest of the way, not wanting to give away their positions to anyone.
Bruce and Clark, their identities concealed by shadows, approached the dock with a shared purpose. Bruce's Batmobile remained parked nearby, while Clark, relying on his superhuman speed, kept pace with Bruce.
Upon reaching the dock, Bruce instructed Clark: "Stay in the shadows. Use your speed to disorient them, make them question their senses." His lips curved into a sly grin. Bruce then deployed his grappler, propelling himself atop a nearby shipping container.
Through their earpieces, Bruce relayed crucial information to Clark. "I see 8 guards," he crackled. Clark, utilizing his X-ray vision, scanned the containers. "The 3rd and 4th containers along the water's edge hold 16 and 18 people, tightly huddled together," Clark reported. But there was more: "The 7th container harbours 4 armed individuals and a large, machine."
Bruce's response was swift: "That's unexpected, well, the armed men, not the people. Can you zoom in, jam the door with the armed guards inside, and get out without being seen?"
Clark nodded, then realized Bruce could see him. "Yeah, no problem," he replied. In an instant, Clark vanished and reappeared, leaving only a creaking noise at the container—a testament to his stealthy manoeuvre.
Bruce surveyed the eight men, two of whom had momentarily turned toward the noise but then resumed their business. "I'm going to sweep down and take out the two guards nearest me," Bruce informed Clark. "Can you disarm the other four without revealing yourself?"
Clark's confident reply came swiftly: "That will be easy."
"Excellent," Bruce acknowledged. "Wait until I land." With arms spread wide, he held onto his cape, which stiffened as he glided effortlessly downward. As he neared the assailants, Bruce released the cape, landing squarely on the chest of one and using the momentum to roll into the other, disarming them both.
Clark seized the moment. Pulling his mask down, he activated his X-ray vision, moved at superspeed, and swiftly removed the weapons from the remaining four assailants. Feeling mischievous, he shot behind one of them and whispered, "I see you." The startled assailant spun around, only to find Clark vanished.
Meanwhile, Bruce systematically incapacitated the remaining four assailants, one by one, while Clark observed. When only one adversary remained, Bruce seized him by the collar. His voice, darker than usual, cut through the tension: "Who's in charge?" The man remained silent.
Bruce fired his grappler once more, attaching it to the guy's leg. The man shot upward, screaming all the way. "Get ready to catch him," Bruce instructed Clark over their communication link. Without waiting for a reply, he fired a second grappler. In no time, he was beside the red-faced man, who dangled upside down, caught in their web of justice.
Bruce's voice was a low, menacing growl: "Who sent you?" The man's eyes widened in fear, and he attempted to speak, but only a feeble whisper escaped his trembling lips. Desperation etched across his face, he stammered, "I can't… they'll kill me."
Without hesitation, Bruce sliced through the rope binding the man. He plummeted, screaming all the way down. Just as he braced for impact, expecting the unforgiving ground, his eyes snapped open. Instead of the cold concrete, he found himself suspended in midair, held aloft by a mysterious figure.
The stranger, clad in black, lowered the man gently to the ground. Before the dazed captive could react, the enigmatic rescuer vanished into the shadows.
Stunned, the man stumbled backward, shuffling on his bruised behind until he collided with another presence. Batman materialized behind him, an imposing silhouette. "Okay," the captive squealed, panic in his voice. "I'll tell you anything you want to know."
As the man blubbered out crucial information to Bruce, Clark focused on the container nearby. His X-ray vision revealed huddled figures within, desperate and frightened. But before he could free them, a deafening bang echoed through the dock, shattering the night's fragile calm.
Clark's gaze shifted toward the container, its doors torn off as if by some unseen force. What could have wrought such destruction? His mind raced through possibilities. Then, like a tempest unleashed, four armed men burst forth—two veering left, two right. Their guns levelled at him, they opened fire.
In that split second, Clark entered a realm beyond mortal perception. Super speed enveloped him, and the world slowed to a crawl. Bullets hung suspended in midair, their deadly trajectories frozen. He darted forward, disarming all four assailants with precision. His eyes flickered to the bullets, ensuring they would avoid the containers where innocent lives huddled.
Confident in his plan, Clark returned to normal speed. Confusion etched across the men's faces as they grappled with the inexplicable. Then, in his most authoritative tone, Clark addressed them: "That's no way to treat someone."
All four pivoted to face him. The nearest assailant lunged, but Clark vanished once more, reappearing between the other two. Their flinches triggered instinctive punches, and the men collided, momentarily stunned.
Fear spread like wildfire among them—the black, faceless figure who materialized and vanished at will. Whispers echoed: "It's a ghost." And with that, all four fled, leaving behind a dock shrouded in mystery.
Clark's focus shifted back to the container, where desperate faces awaited liberation. He approached, effortlessly ripping the locks off, freeing the huddled people within. Before they could glimpse their mysterious saviour, he vanished—a fleeting guardian of the night.
Moments later, Clark rendezvoused with Bruce. "Did you obtain any useful information?" Clark inquired.
Bruce's response was grim. "Yes," he confirmed. "But there's more. That container held weaponry we use in our training—an advanced technology developed by a company I own. No one should have accessed it. No one. Yet there was a single clue inside, leading directly to LexCorp." The name hung in the air, ominous and foreboding.
Authors Note:
Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Another one or two chapters with Clark and Bruce then the meat of the story will really kick off.