After Christmas, the temperature warmed up again. But for Gotham, this was no good thing. The snow that should have quietly arrived turned into a cold rain overnight, bleakly ravaging the dark city. The streets were empty. Suddenly, two dazzling beams appeared at the end of the street. The Batmobile crossed the bridge between the two towers, heading out of the city.
In the equally pitch-black graveyard, only the small chapel in the center flickered with a hint of light. Raindrops fell onto the distant sea, raising mist that surged toward the shore, as if to swallow everything here completely. The graves were never so suffused with dense death. Bruce, clad in the Hell Bat Armor, stepped in and felt only overwhelming sadness and heaviness.
A grave had been disturbed. Bruce knew it was Damian's grave. He seemed not to intend to cover it up or to use such traces blatantly to tell Batman he was the one resurrected. His revival had nothing to do with Batman. He crawled out of the grave by himself, defeating the God of Death as he always did, returning from Hell.
Bruce looked toward the chapel. He took steps toward it. As soon as he walked onto the steps, he saw under the faint candlelight a small figure standing in front of the Cross, Jesus' face completely hidden in shadow, showing a few hints of sorrow.
"Damian." The name was almost squeezed from his throat, the vocal cords unfamiliar with it, so the pronunciation came with some dryness.
"I thought you didn't dare to come." The boy's voice was very clear. Damian's voice change came very late; Bruce even once thought he wouldn't have the same deep voice as he did.
Damian turned around. Bruce saw his face clearly, still so young and vibrant, somewhat resembling himself. He was still wearing the Robin uniform, which Bruce had dressed him in when he was buried. He used the best fabric, so even after many years had passed, it was still bright as new.
"Why don't you speak? Don't know how to face me?"
"No," Bruce replied, "I'm just thinking about what happened and how you actually came back."
"Is that important?" Damian walked over. He circled Batman once, as if clicking his tongue in wonder, "This armor is really awesome, is it newly made by you?"
"No," Bruce said again, "Who resurrected you?"
"I don't know," Damian said, "I just suddenly woke up, found myself lying in a coffin. I opened the coffin lid and climbed out, then called home."
Bruce did not expose him. He merely said: "What are you planning to do next?"
"What?"
"Do you have any plans?"
"Come on, you're my dad, also my legal guardian. Now you're asking me what to do?"
Bruce shook his head and said, "Sorry. But Damian Wayne is dead. The death report is in the drawer of the study. Your social identity and school registration have been canceled. The law won't acknowledge the resurrection. So you can't go back as Damian Wayne."
"God! You're Wayne! Is it so hard to get me a new identity?"
"That's not difficult, but it can't be Damian Wayne. Because although I'm Wayne, the current president is Clark Kent."
"What?"
"That's Superman. Maybe you haven't heard of him, nor his secretary Shiller. I'm very sure that I have no way to do anything under their noses. So you can stay as my adopted son, or you can leave."
"Bruce, why don't you welcome my return? So you hold no regret for my death back then?" Damian asked, looking into his eyes, "It was all your fault."
"I admit it." Bruce nodded and said, "If it weren't for me being overwhelmed by anger at the time, wanting to push the Joker down, he wouldn't have let go and allowed you to fall."
"Don't you feel guilty?"
"Once, but now there's no room for that." Bruce said, "Before your return, this world has revived too, sprouting new buds from a pile of bones. And we, who walk ahead, must do everything we can to protect the new sparks, grasp this possibly singular opportunity."
"For this, all our past, those worthy of hesitation, sighs, shame, and mortification, can only stay in the past. We have far too many important things to do, without that much time to sigh heavily."
"I welcome you back. You can contribute to this world and cosmos in your own way. But if you're just here to talk about the past, then forgive me for not having the time to accompany you."
"Damian, I always thought you are much more mature than your peers, always had your own opinions. The biggest mistake I made back then was getting us trapped in Gotham. It was to avoid repeating mistakes that I accepted your departure. Because now there's a bigger stage, it's the right time to show what you're capable of. I know you're looking forward to it as well, aren't you?"
Damian seemed somewhat confused, but quickly he shook his head and said, "No, I won't leave. I'm going to find that bastard for revenge; I'm going to kill the Joker!"
After saying that, he stared at Bruce, apparently trying to see his reaction. But the face guard of the Hell Bat Armor was very tight, and no one could see Bruce's expression.
"If that's your goal in returning, I can understand and won't stop you. But I thought you would be more ambitious."
Bruce's tone contained a hint of disappointment. Damian showed a bewildered expression again. Seeing Bruce retreat, he quickly caught up and said, "Wait! I..."
Damian wanted to say something but seemed unsure what to say. He just watched Bruce's figure disappear into the darkness, rain wetting the cloak, while he tightly clenched his fists.
Seeing Bruce walking back into Wayne Manor, Shiller was a bit surprised and said, "You're back so soon? Where's your son?"
"He didn't come back with me." Bruce said, "He said he wants revenge, probably won't take long before he goes after Joker."
"You don't seem worried."
"Because he won't find him."
"Where did you put him?"
"Joker no longer exists." Bruce said, "When I gave up being Batman, he stopped being Joker."
Bruce spoke somewhat ambiguously. Shiller speculated that Bruce might have given up dealing with Joker using Batman's methods and instead directly used Wayne's heavy hand.
After all, he gave up his Batman identity and was no longer a superhero. Then the only way he could deal with Joker was with Cash Strength. Joker liked Batman, not a rich guy who only talked money, so he naturally disappeared.
But Shiller felt it wasn't that simple. It's not easy to unbind from Joker. After all, Bruce from that arrogant universe also stopped being Batman, yet Joker remained; Jack didn't obsess over Bruce playing games, yet he still stayed Joker and didn't abandon the identity.
So, it's worth exploring what made Joker in this universe give up his identity. But Shiller actually didn't care. Since Bruce said it was fine, it probably was really fine.
"I've spent so much effort reshaping the current social structure just to outrun this mysterious Dark Power." Bruce said, sitting on the sofa, "The darkness from the future isn't as frightening as that from the past. I must give everyone an excuse to let them put down old shadows and avoid being lost in those dark memories. Only this way can disasters be kept outside the door."
"It's a good plan." Shiller said, "What are you going to do next?"
"I need to figure out the source of this Dark Power." Bruce pursed his lips, "Currently, these lone data copies show nothing. I need to collect enough strength samples. Of course, you'll have to keep an eye on them for me."
"Watch who?"
"Of course, the Justice League. If there's no accident, they'll all be sought by this power. If they delay too long, find a way to remind them."
"No problem." Shiller nodded and said, "I also want to see, if the plan to resurrect the dead isn't successful, what tricks he might try next."
In the east of Mars City, in a seemingly ordinary dwelling, Martian Manhunter Ron stood dumbfounded at the door, while his wife and daughter stood inside the house looking at him.
"Oh my God." Ron said, "Am I seeing an illusion?"
"Dad!" his daughter shouted, dashing into his arms. His wife stood there smiling at him as if none of the disasters he remembered ever happened. It was just an ordinary working day afternoon; he had come home early, getting a warm welcome from his family.
Feeling the warm touch of his daughter in his arms, Ron looked down incredulously. He knelt down, looked at his daughter and asked, "I can feel your brainwaves, is that you?"
"Yeah, I wanted to find you, so I followed the old communication channel to reach out. Dad, where have you been? Why haven't you been back for so long?"
Ron opened his mouth, his daughter pulling him into the house. He somewhat wanted to retreat but couldn't shake off that soft, warm little hand, walking step by step to the dining table.
"Don't worry, Mom's already making dinner." His daughter smiled and said, "We haven't had a meal together in a long time."
"How… how did you come back?"
"Don't know, we just woke up in the cemetery. I thought you'd abandoned me, Mom told us we might have been resurrected…"
"Then do you remember…"
"Ron!" His wife's voice came from the kitchen, "Come and help out!"
Ron seemed to awaken suddenly, rushing over. Their kitchen wasn't large, with both of them inside it was a bit cramped. Seeing his wife's close face, Ron fell into a state of confusion.
"Don't talk about those things with her." His wife said somewhat reproachfully, "The process of death is terrifying. It's good if she's lost those memories, isn't it?"
"I just… I just don't know why you're back… it's too unbelievable…"
And his wife took his hand and said, "That doesn't matter, what matters is that we're together again, right?"
Ron wanted to say something else, but his wife said again, "We're still young, I can still bear children. Maybe one day, Martian civilization will have a revival?"
Ron was completely speechless. He hugged his wife, as if not wanting this beautiful dream to slip away. He gently caressed her back, then said, "Thank you. I love you all forever."