Barry tossed his backpack into the empty seat next to him and sank into it.
The carriage was filled with a strange smell of cheap leather mixed with sweat, and outside the window, the city lights rushed past, blurred into meaningless patches of light.
He had no interest in appreciating the night view; he simply pressed his head against the cold car window, feeling the rhythmic vibrations of the engine.
He barely slept during the several-hour journey.
Those search results kept replaying in my mind.
Victor's healthy limbs, Hal's destitute figure, and Bruce's black-and-white childhood portrait.
Every image was like a blunt knife, cutting back and forth on his nerves.
When we arrived in Gotham, it was just dawn.
This legendary city of sin is now shrouded in an eerie tranquility.
The streets were excessively clean, with almost no litter in sight. The buildings along the roadside were orderly, though old bullet holes and repaired cracks were still faintly visible on the walls.
There was no smell of gunpowder in the air, only the damp chill of an approaching downpour.
Barry, relying on his memory, boarded a bus heading to the suburbs.
He had been to the Wayne Manor countless times and knew its location by heart.
However, when he stood in front of that familiar carved iron gate, he was completely stunned.
The neatly trimmed lawn of my memory is now overgrown with weeds, almost knee-deep.
The fountain had long since dried up, and the bottom of the pool was covered with a thick layer of dead leaves and silt.
Several windows of the main building of the manor were broken and haphazardly nailed together with wooden boards. The whole building exuded an aura of death, as if it had been abandoned for many years, like a huge tomb.
Nobody lives here.
The thought sent a chill down Barry's spine.
Does Thomas Wayne not live here? Where could he possibly look for him?
Just as he was about to turn and leave, he caught a glimpse of something inconspicuous on the gatepost: a security camera.
The red indicator light flickered faintly in the morning light.
It's still working.
A glimmer of hope flickered in Barry's heart. He rushed to the door, practically pressing his face against the camera, and shouted with all his might, " Batman! I need your help! Bruce! Thomas! It's Barry Allen!"
He wasn't sure if this Batman was actually Thomas Wayne, so he just called out all the possible names.
"This world is about to be destroyed! Atlantis and Themyscira are at war! I need you! Please, come out and see me!"
His shouts echoed in front of the empty manor, sounding incredibly weak and ridiculous, and received no response except for the sound of the wind.
Barry persisted, continuing to shout until his voice became hoarse.
Just when he was about to despair, a dull metallic scraping sound came from behind him.
Squeak--Crunch--
The rusty iron gate slowly opened a crack.
It responded!
Barry was overjoyed and squeezed through the crack in the door without thinking.
The manor was even more dilapidated than the outside, with a strong smell of rotting plants wafting through the air.
He had just taken two steps when a dark figure suddenly darted out from the shadows on his left.
He didn't even see the other person's movements clearly; he only felt a gust of wind rush towards him.
The next second, a huge fist rapidly enlarged in front of him and slammed heavily onto his jaw.
A sharp pain shot through Barry, and everything went black. He was thrown backward, his consciousness fading into endless darkness the moment he hit the ground.
The cold, damp air and the smell of engine oil filled my nostrils.
When Barry regained consciousness, he found himself strapped to a hard chair.
The rough hemp rope cut deep into the flesh of their wrists and ankles, binding them tightly.
He struggled to lift his head and looked around.
Is this... Batcave?
Damp rock walls, upside-down bats, and in the distance, jagged armored vehicles.
Everything was similar to the Batcave in his memory, yet there were subtle differences.
Instead of those sophisticated high-tech computer arrays, there are rows of weapon racks filled with all kinds of firearms.
The air was not filled with the calm of scientific research, but with pure gunpowder and murderous intent.
A tall, burly figure stood with his back to him, wiping a pistol at a workbench.
He was wearing a Batsuit, but the bat emblem on his chest was scarlet, and the seams of the suit were full of scratches and wear.
The man turned around and took off his hood.
The face that Barry had seen in the interview photos was revealed.
With graying temples, a weathered face, and eyes as cold as the ice of Gotham winter, he was none other than Bruce Wayne's father, Thomas Wayne.
Thomas casually tossed the pistol onto the table, making a crisp "clang" sound.
He strolled up to Barry and looked down at him.
"You have one minute," his voice was rough like sandpaper, "Tell me who you are and what you're doing here. If your answer doesn't satisfy me, I'll throw you into the pit to join the criminals of Gotham."
Barry swallowed hard; his jaw was still burning.
He dared not hide anything and quickly revealed everything. "My name is Barry Allen, I am the Flash, from another universe!"
In my world, your son Bruce didn't die; he's Batman, and he's my comrade!
I arrived here by accident. The Speed Force is gone, and now Themyscira and Atlantis are at war. The whole world is on the verge of destruction. I need Batman's help!
Thomas listened without any change in expression; his eyes held only a deathly indifference.
"What does the destruction of Earth have to do with me?" he said coldly, each word seemingly squeezed out from between clenched teeth. "And what did you say? In your universe, Bruce is Batman? He didn't die that night?!"
In the last few words, his emotions finally wavered slightly, revealing a suppressed rage.
"Yes!" Barry quickly replied, knowing this was crucial.
"In my world, on that rainy night, it was you and Martha who died in Crime Alley!"
Bruce survived. Seeking revenge, he traveled the world learning martial arts and detective skills before returning to Gotham to become the Dark Knight who would never kill! Together, we formed the Justice League to fight a global crisis!
A deathly silence fell over the cave.
Thomas stared intently at Barry, as if trying to see through him.
The murderous intent and scrutiny in his eyes made Barry hold his breath.
After an unknown amount of time, Thomas took a step back, his aggressive aura subsiding somewhat.
"You passed," he said calmly. "What you said to those two was pretty much the same."
He drew a dagger from his waist and, with a swift motion, cut the ropes binding Barry.
Barry rubbed his numb wrist and looked up blankly.
What, those two people?
There are other people like him who have come to this universe?!
He followed Thomas's gaze and looked deeper into the cave.
Two people slowly emerged from the shadows.
The man in the lead was tall and dressed casually, with a faint smile on his face. But the aura he exuded was even more chilling than Thomas's murderous intent.
Following behind him was a young woman in a long black dress. She had beautiful black curly hair and wore an antique Anka cross necklace. She had a gentle and serene demeanor, and just standing there quietly, she seemed to be isolated from the hustle and bustle of the world.
Barry was certain he had never seen either of them before.
The man looked at Barry, who was getting up from the ground, with great interest, and then spoke.
" Barry Allen," his voice was calm, yet possessed a penetrating insight, "Do you know that everything in this universe today is because you wanted to save your mother?"
One sentence exploded in Barry's mind like a thunderbolt.
He froze completely.
"... What do you mean?" he asked dryly.
"I saved my mother... which led to a new timeline, a new reality?"
Deep within his mind, a fragment of memory that had been buried for a long time suddenly surfaced.
That was a long time ago, when his mother Nora held him as a child and whispered those words gently in his ear.
" Barry, remember to accept the things you cannot change, have the courage to change the things you can, and have... the wisdom to distinguish between the two."
Accept the things you cannot change...
Change...
wisdom...
"No..." Barry staggered back a step, his legs gave way, and he collapsed to his knees on the cold, rocky ground.
He traveled through time and saved his mother from Reverse-Flash.
He thought he had simply corrected a mistake and made up for a regret from his childhood.
He never imagined that this selfish act would trigger such a terrible chain reaction.
Diana's brutality, Arthur's madness, Bruce's death, Thomas's twisted nature... the deaths of thousands upon thousands...
It's all because of him.
"How could this be... how could this happen..." He clutched his hair with both hands, letting out a low growl like Beast, but not a single tear came out.
Immense guilt and despair filled his chest like cement, almost suffocating him.
After standing there stunned for a long time, Barry suddenly raised his head, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the mysterious man, as if he had grasped at the last straw.
"Since you know all this, you must have a way, right? Please, there must be a way to fix everything!"
Thor nodded, his expression unchanged. "I can indeed help you. But you have to prove your worth, or rather, your abilities, are worthy of my help."
The light in Barry's eyes dimmed instantly, and he slumped down, looking at his empty hands.
"But... I've lost the Speed Force, I'm nothing now."
Unexpectedly, Thor simply smiled mysteriously.
Do you remember how you acquired this ability?