"What do we need to do now?" Captain America asked Monica, the current S.H.I.E.L.D. Commander.
After the last schism, Nick Fury had relinquished his authority, handing over the reins of S.H.I.E.L.D. to Monica.
As for the presidency of the United States, due to the wartime status, Bruce's resignation allowed Carol, the former Vice President, to assume the position directly.
America simply couldn't afford the chaos that another large-scale election might bring.
After taking office, Carol unsurprisingly maintained the general direction of previous policies—almost everything continued just as it had under Bruce.
This ensured that the core foundation of the nation remained stable.
Even though the policies were left for Carol to execute, as long as Batman's face appeared on television, it was enough to calm the public.
Carol's goal was simple—prevent further unrest.
She also continued Bruce's policy of granting S.H.I.E.L.D. maximum operational authority.
Hearing Captain America's question, Monica knew full well that making a move now would only alert that guy, giving him a chance to flee or go into hiding again.
"Hold our ground. What we need now is for him to slip up," Monica said, taking a deep breath while staring at the screen before her.
"So, what did the Bat want from you?" Captain America was curious. It was practically unthinkable for Batman—known for being a lone wolf—to ask for help.
Getting others involved? That was unheard of.
Even though Captain America was someone who had only recently thawed from the ice, he still had some understanding of Batman from the comics.
In those stories, no one could interfere with Gotham—not on Batman's watch.
While the Batman in front of them hadn't reached that level, he was certainly on the verge of turning New York into his own turf.
He just hadn't gone so far as to completely bar other superheroes from stepping into his world.
Still, the fact that he'd asked Monica for help went beyond anything Captain America could've imagined.
"To help him deal with a lunatic. A lunatic who wants every abusive man in New York to die. Honestly, I kind of agree—but Batman doesn't see it the way I do," Monica shrugged. She was actually quite pleased with the guy's choice of targets.
The only issue was that the targets were often just homeless men.
The guy didn't have the guts to go after higher-profile offenders. But judging from the way things ended, he probably just didn't get the chance before Batman took him down.
When the topic turned to domestic abuse, everyone in the Ultimates probably thought of the same person—
The former Giant-Man, Hank Pym.
A textbook case of domestic abuse. Although Captain America had once given him a serious beatdown, no one really knew what their relationship was like now.
After all, that was their personal matter.
"He actually did a pretty good job," Captain America nodded, not thinking there was anything wrong with what he said.
"Yeah, not bad—until his deranged followers kidnapped children and stormed the NYPD. That's when I realized he was just a total maniac. Probably the reason Batman came to me," Monica said. If she could tolerate the guy's actions before, what he did afterward was completely unforgivable in her eyes.
Captain America said nothing, simply keeping his eyes on Monica.
Feeling his gaze, Monica turned and smiled at him. "A guy like that? He deserves to have a little fun."
"He's probably bungee jumping over the Atlantic right now."
Hearing that, Captain America nodded knowingly.
He wasn't wrong—Monica had sent S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to take the lunatic to the skies over the Atlantic Ocean, cuffed and shackled, for a round of bungee jumping without a cord.
Even under normal conditions, high-altitude diving carried a serious risk of death. What Hubble Fagan was going through now? That was a thousand-meter drop.
But everything happening here wasn't Bruce's concern—not while he was far away in Europe.
He had his own work to take care of.
He was trying to bring his designs fully into the real world.
Everything Bruce had done so far had pushed humanity's understanding of modern cities to a new level.
The city had never expected someone to cleanly solve all these problems.
But there was still one issue.
"You haven't solved the energy source for interstellar travel. We have more than enough raw power, but you can't condense that into a tiny wristband," the City said seriously to Bruce.
It knew better than anyone how massive the energy requirements were for traveling across the universe—and how intense that energy needed to be.
Such energy couldn't possibly be miniaturized, even by this era-defining supercivilization-level city.
It just wasn't feasible.
Bruce remained focused on his work.
But he still answered the City's concern.
"You'll see it soon. But for now, don't interrupt me," Bruce said, still fully immersed in his task. Yet at the same time, he was also undertaking a second task.
He had reentered the prison of his mind.
And was now standing in front of a cell.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Before Bruce could say a word, the prisoner inside started clapping.
"You're finally back." A red figure suddenly darted up to the bars. If not for the door between them, he might've slammed right into Bruce.
His hatred for Bruce was second only to his hatred for himself.
"So what is it this time? Planning to make me your puppet again? Or maybe you want to have a chat with the guy living in my head?" Red Death pointed at his skull as he addressed Bruce.
It was painfully clear that his mental state was in shambles.
He lacked the cold composure a proper Batman should have.
And for a Batman, there was probably nothing more infuriating than being played—by another Batman.
Moreover, the Red Death was never truly a normal kind of bat to begin with.
Very few bats would be willing to kill the Flash just to obtain the Speed Force—simply to end all crime a little earlier.
"You're no longer the Bat," Bruce said coldly to the current Red Death. "I'm not here to talk to you. Let Barry speak with me."
"No. You won't be seeing Barry," Red Death sneered.
"He's been completely suppressed by me. There's no chance he'll be able to speak with you."
When he returned here, Red Death hadn't held back in punishing the one who'd dragged him down. He knew all too well that, in Barry's eyes—as the Flash—the cruelest punishment was being forced to watch someone else act in his place, completely powerless to stop them.
Bruce simply stared silently at Red Death.
"You acted out of fear. It was fear that drove you to take Barry's Speed Force," Bruce said, completely unfazed by Red Death's words. His tone remained calm. "Because of your fear, you began executing every criminal with the Speed Force."
"Because of your fear, you turned your world into a wasteland."
"You know nothing!!!!" That sentence clearly hit a nerve. Red Death screamed hysterically as the black bats around him spiraled into a chaotic frenzy.
Red Death zipped around the cell at lightning speed, though to Bruce, it was as if he hadn't moved at all.
He kept trying to make the black bats behind him charge out of the cell and strike the man spewing harsh truths—Bruce. Even though he knew it was pointless.
The cell would never allow his bats to break free.
To attack Bruce, who had come all the way here.
But he tried anyway.
"I lost everything! Everything I had was ripped away from me—I have nothing left!!!"
Red Death now stood in front of Bruce again. He didn't remove his helmet, just howled at this foolish Bat who knew nothing of what he'd been through.
"Do you understand? Have you ever truly lost something?"
"Do you know the helplessness of believing you finally had the power to protect them—only to watch your loved ones die in front of you?"
Red Death roared, still haunted by the memory of those who died before his eyes—people who meant everything to him.
He knew that the man standing before him could never understand. Someone without close family would never grasp the depth of his despair.
To Red Death, this Bat from another universe had never experienced anything real.
"I only wanted to change it all… to stop it all. To prevent everything. To punish every criminal before the crime even began—to sentence them to death!"
"I'd do anything to stop those people."
Red Death glared at Bruce with fierce intensity.
But Bruce remained unmoved.
He simply watched Red Death rage and scream.
His eyes calmly focused on Red Death's own.
"You just couldn't accept what happened. It deepened your fear. Made you even more stubborn. More extreme."
At this point, the original Batman, who had been silently listening, finally spoke.
He could more or less understand what Red Death had gone through—but he didn't agree with his choices.
Red Death turned his gaze to the Batman who had spoken, but said nothing.
Earlier, LEGO Batman had spoken with this "True Bat." They'd all gotten a sense of what this Batman had experienced.
As the True Bat had said, they were all trapped in cages of their own making.
Extreme. Obstinate. Ruthless.
Those words could describe who they were back then.
But the True Bat had been lucky—he had changed. He realized his mistakes.
Red Death, however, had not.
It was then that Bruce finally spoke to Red Death again.
"When we set foot on this path, we already knew our fate. We've always been alone. We've always been prepared for those around us to leave us."
"Crime can never be completely stopped—not even with the Speed Force."
"What you've done is nothing more than self-soothing."
"You were never prepared for the consequences."
To Red Death, Bruce's words pierced straight into his heart like a dagger. He wanted to say something, but found himself speechless in front of Bruce.
Bruce spoke with steady calm, looking straight at him.
"Because of one reckless choice, you turned your world into a ruin."
To Red Death, those words felt like a complete denial of everything he had done. But he still remembered what that person had told him before.
"No! No!! No!!! It's not like that!"
"All of this—it was all because of that damned Upper World! We were just fodder for those people!!!"
"Their happiness was built on our sacrifices!"
"That should never have happened to us!"
Red Death blamed everything that had happened in his world on that so-called Upper World—that peaceful and harmonious realm.
Even with so-called supervillains, nothing ever truly threatened that world.
It was all because those people from the Upper World were leeching off their own universe for sustenance!
"Maybe," Bruce said, his eyes fixed on Red Death's, "if you hadn't killed Barry, none of this would've happened."
In Red Death's eyes earlier, Bruce had seen a flash of Barry's golden glow.
He knew he hadn't been mistaken—and now he continued pushing.
Red Death's mind was never stable to begin with.
Otherwise, as a Bat, how could he have gone so far as to kill Barry, then crazily fuse Barry's Speed Force into himself?
Red Death shook his head violently. He didn't think this was his fault.
That person had clearly told him: it was those in the Upper World who were harvesting stability from their world so they could live comfortably.
And yet…
Red Death knew deep down—Bruce might be right.
If he hadn't taken Barry's Speed Force, would any of this have happened?
Would his world still be intact?
The moment that thought took root, his will began to waver.
The golden light of Barry's essence began to shine faintly in Red Death's eyes.
"No, no, no!!! You're just letting that guy—" Red Death couldn't even finish his sentence before falling silent.
The black bats that once surrounded him transformed into golden Speed Force lightning. His red armor turned into radiant gold.
"Looks like I can finally come out and breathe some fresh air," Barry said as he stretched, moving around inside the cell. "Though this place still stinks of that scent."
"So, what did you bring me out here for?"
Barry knew his old friend all too well.
For him to go to such lengths to give Barry back control of this body—there had to be a reason.
He wanted something.
And it required Barry Allen—the Flash—and the Speed Force.
"Maybe… I'll need you to save the world someday."
(End of Chapter)
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