Authors notes:
Thanks to AdalynHazel, The Orion Pax and c.kirksey1993 for the new follows.
The story is really starting to take shape, and things are start to fit together.
Goku's heart raced as he touched down near the alien base. He had about 30 seconds until Zod, arrived.
Reverting to his base form, Goku suppressed his energy, hoping to blend in with the surroundings. He closed his eyes, extending his senses to feel the life forces around him. There it was—an alien ship, parked just ahead, but only a few aliens inside, perfect he thought.
As he floated silently toward the entrance, Goku wondered what secrets lay within.
The ship was oddly designed, its white interior contrasted sharply with the black, glossy floor. Each step echoed, in the silence.
Goku's heart pounded as he sensed Zod's furious arrival. The alien ship was a labyrinth of unfamiliar corridors, and Goku relied on his heightened senses to navigate without detection. In one room after another, he moved silently, avoiding the other inhabitants—aliens conversing in an incomprehensible language.
As two aliens approached, Goku pressed himself against the wall, barely breathing. Their voices echoed, their intentions unknown. When they passed, he exhaled, grateful for the close call. But there was no time to rest. He pressed onward, guided by instinct toward what he believed was the control room.
Then, a seismic shift—a surge of energy. Zod and a legion of aliens were converging on his location.
How had they discovered him? Goku urgently needed to find something important and escape, if he could just find something that Bulma could use to gain information it would be a tremendous help.
Then his senses suddenly went dark, leaving him blind to any presences other that the few aliens on the ship—no Clark, Bulma, or Bruce. The situation mirrored his time stranded on Earth, but that was due to D...
Suddenly, Goku sensed Zod and 40 aliens seemingly materialize out of thin air. One moment nothing the next there they where. It was as soon as they entered the ship that he could sense them, something was blocking everything outside.
They knew his exact location and were closing in on him.
Goku acted on instinct, releasing his suppressed energy and ascending to Super Saiyan 2. The ship quaked as waves of air and power emanated from him, briefly connecting him to something beyond its confines. "That's interesting" he thought. With a magnificent surge, Goku fully powered up, unleashing powerful waves that blew open the control room doors as he maximized his current form. And there, outside the ship, he sensed Clark. Brief but undeniable.
Then Zod and the 40 aliens entered.
Zod's command echoed through the chaos: "Sease him!" The 40 aliens surged forward, their powers wildly varying. Some were nearly on par with Zod, while others seemed no match for his Krilln. This intrigued Goku but he had no time to think, Goku deftly ducked and parried their attacks. But their sheer numbers overwhelmed him—a relentless tide of extraterrestrial fury.
They finally pinned him down, then it happened—the cold, metallic bite of handcuffs encircled Goku's wrists, pinning his hands behind his back. Another pair secured his ankles. Only one alien remained, standing watch. It helped Goku to his feet, its eyes inscrutable.
Goku strained against the restraints, gauging their strength. They didn't break, but he sensed a subtle flex. His could transform again if needed. But this was an opportunity—an unexpected chance to gather intelligence. Zod, imposing and unyielding, stepped closer.
"You're going to regret facing us," Zod declared, his voice dripping with menace.
Goku stumbled as they guided him away from the ship. His senses snapped back into focus, momentarily disorienting him. Deeper into the camp they led him, until they reached a massive vessel. As they stepped inside, his senses plunged into darkness once more.
"So," Goku mused silently, "these ships interfere with my ability to sense anything. And this situation—it's eerily reminiscent of what Dr. Gero orchestrated. He's behind all of this." The pieces were falling into place, and Goku's determination grew stronger.
After navigating numerous corridors and turns, they led Goku to an unmistakable cell. They pushed him inside and sealed the door.
As Goku stood in the cell, the energy permeated the shimmering walls and ceiling. It hummed like a suppressed storm, vibrating through the very floor beneath his feet. Zod, with a determined glare, leaned against the bars. "We'll extract every secret we desire," he declared, "and then you'll meet your end."
Goku's grin widened. "Give my regards to Dr. Gero," he quipped.
Zod's face twitched, his voice sharp. "Emperor Gero!" he corrected. "He has no time for an insignificant ant like you."
I've been called worse," Goku retorted, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. Memories flashed before him—the faces of fallen friends, the weight of their deaths. And then there was Gero, the mastermind behind it all. Anger simmered, threatening to erupt.
"This ant has disrupted Gero's plans plenty of times before," Goku thought, clenching his fists. The ship trembled, responding to the storm brewing within him.
Zod's sneer widened. "Is that the best you can do?" he scoffed. "This cell is built to contain even those stronger than you. You have no chance."
But Goku wasn't defeated. He forced himself to calm down, drawing on his inner resolve. Reverting to his base form, he met Zod's gaze squarely.
Then pain from an energy jolt seared through him, threatening to send him into spasms.
Over the next few days, Zod returned, relentless in his questioning. Each jolt pushed Goku to the brink, but he endured. He had to. Somewhere in this cell lay the key—a secret that could change everything.
Fortunately, they were feeding Goku and had freed his hands. Without food, he would have needed to escape earlier; the lack of sustenance would have been worse than any form of torture. Goku had just finished his meal when Zod once again entered the room, this time accompanied by three other aliens.
"You'll be pleased to know that today is your last day in this cell. You're going to die," Zod declared, laughing and clearly enjoying the moment, hoping to see fear in Goku's eyes.
Goku looked up from the floor. "So, are you off to conquer the world, then?"
"Not yet, but soon," replied Zod. Goku felt a surge of pain, Zod having clearly used the unknown device again. Energy coursed through his body, but Goku noticed the pain was less than before. His Saiyan body seemed to be adapting to it, the discomfort diminishing each time. An idea struck him: could he manipulate the energy? Before he could try, the flow stopped.
Zod spoke once more. "By the way, Emperor Gero says hi, and he wants you to know that after we conquer this planet, he'll make it his mission to kill every version of you and your friends."
Goku finally had some useful information, and he'd had enough of the charade. His friends and the refugees would have had plenty of time to escape as well.
Goku's grin widened as he transformed into a Super Saiyan. Immediately, the familiar pain surged through him, but this time, his form made it substantially less agonizing. Fighting through the discomfort, he transformed again, and the pain reduced to a mere itch. Goku could feel the energy flowing through his body, and he concentrated, beginning to manipulate it.
Zod barked, "Increase power to maximum!" The lights dimmed as the energy levels spiked, the pain returning to Goku. Undeterred, he focused even more, manipulating the energy until he had it circulating around his body without direct contact. A wide grin formed on his face as he stood up. Due to the power drain on the ship, he could sense Clark nearby.
"Send my regards to Dr. Gero," said Goku. He manipulated the energy even more, directing it right at its source. Upon contact, an explosion occurred, plunging the room into darkness, with Goku's glow as the sole illumination. He fired a blast of energy straight upward, creating a massive hole, and then took off. As he reached the sky, he aimed for the previous ship and flew directly through the wall into the control room. With a powerful punch, he shattered the control panel and ripped it out before making his exit. Finally, placing two fingers to his forehead, he vanished.
2 days earlier:
The refugees, Bulma, Clark, and Bruce finally arrived in Gotham. Clark had previously brought the elderly and infirm. Leading the way, Clark's fatigue was evident, even with the sun's regenerative powers, but the refugees looked especially worn out.
Bruce, lost in thought, took in the sights. This Gotham looked strikingly similar to his own, but why? Had his years as Batman been utterly pointless?
His reverie was interrupted when the group came to a halt. Bruce froze; directly in front of him stood the gates of Wayne Manor.
Clark approached the gates and pressed the intercom. After a moment, it crackled to life. "Hello, Wayne residents. How may I help you?" came an all-too-familiar voice. "Alfred," whispered Bruce.
"Hi, Alfred. I'm here with the rest of the refugees," Clark replied.
"Master Kent, so good to hear your voice. Come straight through; we have supplies ready for you."
The gates creaked and slowly opened. As they approached the house, the main door swung open, revealing Alfred. "This way, Clark," he said, leading the refugees through the courtyard. Inside, there were countless tents, awnings, cooking areas, and even showers and toilets.
"Wow," Bulma exclaimed, "this must have cost a fortune."
"The Waynes are very generous," Alfred replied. "Clark, could you take your friends and update them on what's happening? I'll handle things here and look after everyone."
Clark nodded, thanked Alfred, and turned away. "This way."
Bruce noticed Alfred staring at him, wearing an expression Bruce didn't recognize. "This is so strange," thought Bruce. And what did Alfred mean by 'the Waynes are very generous'? It's only me—well, me from this universe.
Bruce noticed he had been left behind and quickly caught up with Bulma and Clark. They headed to a secluded part of the mansion—a side entrance that Bruce knew well: the secret passage to the Batcave. Good, he thought, maybe that means I've have made a differenceto Gotham after all. It wasn't long before they reached the steps leading down to the Batcave. Near the bottom, Clark stopped.
"Bulma, can you go ahead? I need to talk to Bruce for a moment. Someone is waiting down there to fill you in," Clark said. Bulma nodded and continued on her way.
Clark turned to Bruce. "It's okay; I know there's another me here. That's who you've been friends with, the one who's been helping you out."
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Not quite. Let me explain."
36 years ago:
Clark seethed with anger. Violet was injured, and restlessness gnawed at him. He took to the streets of Gotham, seeking trouble. It didn't take long for him to spot a gang on a street corner, clearly peddling drugs. He walked straight up to them.
"What do you want?" one of the gang members challenged. "You lot need to get lost and stop being a plague on these streets," contempt lacing Clark's voice.
The gang members stood at attention—three pulling out knives, and two brandishing guns.
"Last chance. Scram before I lose my cool!" Clark warned.
One of the members lunged forward, knife in hand. Clark deftly twisted the man's wrist mid-swing, and a sickening snap echoed as the knife dropped to the ground.
His scream pierced the night air as he held his injured wrist, Clark backed off, but one of the thugs fired a gun. Moments later, the remaining four assailants lay unconscious on the ground—bloodied and bruised. Clark cleared them of drugs and weapons, piling them up before vaporizing the evidence with his heat vision.
The last disoriented thug squealed and turned to run.
Guilt surged through Clark's veins as he sprinted at superspeed, desperate to evade the consequences of his anger. Losing control was unthinkable to him.
Voices echoed in his ears: "Hand it over now!" "Please, don't hurt us; take our money!" "Give me the pearls!" A child's cry pierced the chaos: "Mom, Dad!"
Clark just wanted to go off and hide, and wallow in guilt, but instead he raced toward the scene unable to not intervene. There, he witnessed a gun aimed at a terrified family. The gunshot rang out—time seemed to freeze, and this newfound level of superspeed exhilarated him. He effortlessly intercepted the bullet, marveling at its near-motionless trajectory, the air around it rippling in silent protest.
Clark deftly caught the bullet, allowing the world to resume its normal pace. Gasps hung in the air as he dropped the bullet and disarmed the would-be killer before it hit the ground.
The man stumbled backward in fear. Sirens wailed in the background, signaling the arrival of the police. Clark turned to the family, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay?" he asked. The man nodded, his voice trembling. "T-thank you," he stammered.
"I've got to go—the police will be here soon." Clark began to move away, but the man stopped him. "Wait," he said urgently. "I understand you don't want to be involved, but please come to my house. I have so many questions. I'll keep your secret; I won't tell the police anything."
"I don't know," Clark replied, his hesitation palpable. The man extended a card, and Clark reluctantly accepted it. As he glanced at the name, a sense of shock settled over him: Thomas Alan Wayne, M.D. It seemed inevitable that he would pay Dr. Wayne a visit.
Present Day:
Bruce locked eyes with Clark, his gaze intense. "You saved my dad, my mom?" The question hung in the air, heavy with hope and fear.
Clark's response was simple—a nod. But that nod carried immense weight. Bruce's heart raced, threatening to burst from his chest. Sweat formed on his brow, and the stairway felt unnaturally warm.
"Are they still alive?" Bruce blurted out, unable to contain himself. Clark nodded again, and Bruce's eyes lost focus. Memories flooded his mind—the comforting embrace of his parents, the sound of their laughter, the warmth of their love. It was as if time folded in on itself, merging past and present.
In that moment, Bruce Wayne—the boy who lost everything—felt a glimmer of hope. Alfred words came to his mind. "HOPE"
"They are waiting to see you," Clark's words took a moment to register with Bruce. Then, suddenly, he snapped out of his thoughts. Pushing past Clark, he entered the Batcave. There, alongside Bulma, stood an older man and woman, both in their late 60s, smiling. They were unmistakably his parents. Bruce took a step closer, then another, until he was running toward them, and they embraced. Tears streamed down all their faces.
But after several moments, Bruce noticed something odd. Why were they crying?
As the tears subsided and they began to talk, it became clear that something had happened to their Bruce. Yet, Bruce didn't need to ask now. No, at this moment, he could simply revel in the joy of being reunited with his family. Family—a strange concept for him, but one that now held immense meaning.
In the days that followed, Bruce spent time with his family, learning about what had happened and what they had been through. Goku had not yet returned, and Clark was out searching for him. Meanwhile, Bulma was in the Batcave, diligently setting up her equipment to locate Goku. Bruce knew he should have been helping, but his mind was scattered.
As Clark descended to land, Bruce approached him. "Any luck?" he asked. Clark shook his head, sadness evident in his expression. They walked together toward the dining area, drawn by the enticing aroma of food. Bruce paused and turned to Clark. "Clark," he said, "thank you for saving my parents." Clark placed a reassuring hand on Bruce's shoulder and smiled.
Suddenly, Goku appeared before them. "What's up, guys?" he greeted with a cheeky grin. "Oh, that food smells amazing—I'm starving!"
Author's Notes:
I really like this chapter. I had the idea about Bruce meeting his parents about 6 chapters ago, and am looking forward to taking that arch further.
I'm still a bit stuck on some of the finer details, and large parts of the story are still very fluid. I'm open to any suggestions , feel free to leave a comment.
See you next chapter.