Wayne, Bruce Wayne ( BATMAN-DCAU AU)

by gameboy5432

Bruce had not been born with the wisdom and knowledge he had now, but even so he regretted his youthful folly as when he was 16 after he left Zatara and Zatanna for Japan but before studying there he decided to invest on his future public persona as a useless trust fund brat by producing, financing and starring in an ego trip of a movie that had all the makings of a colossal disast

16. Chapter 16

...Births Monsters

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Zeus sat in his throne atop Olympus, staring down through the clouds at the mortal realm below. His stormy eyes crackled with tension. Even as the faint resonance of Bruce Wayne's technological intrusion began to dissipate from the Astral Plane, Zeus could feel the mortal's presence lingering—a mind so sharp it felt like the cut of a blade, even from this great distance.

Beside him, Hera was more focused than ever, her own mind spinning in the wake of Morpheus' warning. They had underestimated Bruce Wayne. Now, they faced something far more dangerous than technology or tactics: his dreams.

"Morpheus has interfered long enough," Zeus rumbled, his voice as deep as thunder rolling across the skies. "Let us see if Wayne can withstand the full weight of his own fears. The Furies will not be turned aside so easily."

Without waiting for approval, Zeus summoned the god of dreams.

Morpheus appeared in the throne room of Olympus, stepping from the shadows as if he had always been there, his pale face impassive, his cloak billowing like a void around him. The king of the gods glared at him, his form crackling with power, but Dream merely stood, unmoved, knowing well that his domain lay elsewhere.

"Lord Morpheus," Zeus began, his voice measured but laced with irritation, "you have kept the mortal safe within your realm. This... Bruce Wayne... has defied the natural order, and now his dreams serve as weapons."

Morpheus regarded Zeus with calm indifference. "He has mastered his mind. And in dreams, one's mind can become more powerful than any weapon. You may break his body, but his mind will not shatter easily."

Hera leaned forward. "Then let us see how his mind handles true nightmares."

A pause followed, thick with tension, before Zeus continued, his eyes narrowing. "Let his dreams turn to nightmares. If you will not break him, we shall."

Morpheus gazed at the gods before him, eyes unblinking. "You know not what you do," he whispered, though the warning went unheeded. With a slight nod of his head, Dream faded back into his realm.

Xxxxxthe Dreamingxxx

The peaceful, orderly dreamscape that had been Bruce Wayne's mind began to distort, shadows lengthening, reality twisting at the edges. Bruce, still unconscious in the Batcave, felt the shift—his analytical mind immediately sensing the change.

The Furies, summoned by Zeus and Hera, had descended into his dreams. Their forms were monstrous, their wings twisted and sharp, their cries echoing with the promises of pain and terror. They sought to break him by summoning his greatest fears—failures, losses, moments of weakness. Visions of a broken Gotham, of dead allies and loved ones, of his parents bleeding out in the alley, all played out before him like cruel theater.

The dream shifted, plunging into deeper and darker realms of horror. But instead of falling into despair, Bruce Wayne stood amidst the nightmare, his figure shadowed and growing darker with every wave of fear they conjured.

"You think this is new to me?" Bruce's voice cut through the chaos, low and unwavering. His dark silhouette, larger than life, loomed over the battlefield of his mind. "I was born in darkness. I've seen horrors you can't even imagine. And I've survived them all."

The Furies faltered for a moment, their confidence waning as they summoned more horrors—more grotesque monsters, more twisted realities. But Bruce only seemed to grow stronger. His eyes, once clear, now glowed red, a sign of the internal transformation. He fed off the fear, not as a victim, but as a master of it.

"You think this will break me?" Bruce growled, his form towering above the Furies. "Fear isn't my weakness. It's my weapon."

As the nightmare deepened, Bruce used his analytical mind as a shield, deciphering each horror like a puzzle to be solved. Every vision the Furies created, he dissected with cold precision. He could see the cracks in the illusion, the manufactured terror behind it, and with each calculated move, he dismantled their attempts to unnerve him.

The Furies, enraged, summoned more terror, reaching into the darkest corners of the Dreaming, but nothing could shake Bruce's growing strength. In the heart of the nightmare, he had become more than a man—his form growing monstrous, his face darkened by shadow, with glowing red eyes piercing through the blackness. He was becoming the very thing the Furies sought to create: a creature of pure fear.

Realizing their efforts were backfiring, the Furies' screeches grew desperate. As they conjured more horrors, they noticed something terrifying: Bruce Wayne wanted the nightmare. He welcomed it, embraced the darkness they threw at him, and each time they tried to push him deeper, he emerged stronger. His towering form, wreathed in shadows, now stalked them, feeding off the fear they themselves had created.

"We cannot break him," one of the Furies whispered in terror, backing away from the ever-growing figure of the dark knight.

"You've made a mistake," Bruce said coldly, his voice rumbling through the nightmare like a distant growl of thunder. "You don't understand fear the way I do."

With a sudden surge, Bruce lunged forward, his shadowy form enveloping the Furies. The winged spirits, once agents of divine retribution, shrieked in terror as they fled from his dream, their wings tearing at the night sky, their forms scattering into nothingness as they abandoned their task.

XxxxxOlympusxxxxx

Hera and Zeus had been watching, their forms hovering over the realm of dreams. As the Furies fled, Hera's face grew pale. They had underestimated Bruce Wayne in a way they could not have anticipated.

"He feeds on it," Hera whispered, her voice filled with disbelief. "He draws strength from the fear. We've only made him more dangerous."

Zeus sat back in his throne, the realization dawning on him as well. "Morpheus was right," he muttered, his thunderous voice now quieter, laced with a rare sense of unease.

Morpheus appeared beside them, his expression as calm as ever. "Fear is not a weakness to everyone. Bruce Wayne is not like other mortals. He has faced nightmares far worse than anything the Furies can conjure."

Zeus turned to Morpheus, his stormy eyes burning with a mixture of anger and grudging respect. "What is he, then?"

Morpheus' pale lips curved into the faintest of smiles. "He is the Bat. And in dreams, even gods should be cautious."

With that, Morpheus turned and walked into the shadows, leaving the gods of Olympus to contemplate the warning that had come too late.

The nightmare had not broken Bruce Wayne. It had only made him stronger.