Chapter 46: Propaganda (Patreon)

Bruce Wayne held Sebastian’s gaze for a long moment, then let his eyes drift toward the pale child resting in his arms. In the end, he exhaled lightly and said, “I don’t appreciate your sense of humor.”

Sebastian’s smile did not falter. He stepped closer, tone casual. “You don’t need to. Do you mind if we sit? Snowflame can catch up with the cat lady while we discuss… other matters.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly, already aware of the attention gathering around them. Guests had begun whispering, glancing in their direction with poorly concealed curiosity. Before Bruce could answer, Sebastian had already taken the seat beside him, moving with quiet certainty. On the opposite side, Snowflame slid into a chair next to Selina.

Jimmy remained standing for a moment, clearly unsure, while Gordon and Barbara lingered nearby, watching the unfolding scene.

Sebastian glanced at them. 

“Commissioner,” he said, “Mr. Wayne and I have some things to discuss. No need to worry, I won’t start shooting people or ask about his taste in women again.”

The surrounding murmurs grew louder.

Gordon studied him, he had a bad feeling about this.

Bruce spoke. “Commissioner, it’s fine. Let’s not create more of a scene than he already has.”

Barbara leaned closer to her father, her voice low. “It’s better to keep our distance. Nothing is happening… yet.”

After a brief hesitation, Gordon nodded. The two stepped back, though neither of them stopped watching from a distance.

Jimmy finally sat down beside Sebastian, his discomfort evident. Across the table, Snowflame had already begun speaking with Selina, casually drifting into a discussion that sounded suspiciously like drug distribution logistics.

Bruce ignored that for the moment. He turned slightly toward Sebastian, lowering his voice so only those at the table could hear. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked. “What do you want?”

“A few days ago,” Sebastian began, “I had three visitors from parallel worlds. Batmen. They spoke about a demon god and a god of hope. Ever heard of that?”

Bruce’s expression did not change. “Is this another one of your jokes?”

“No,” Sebastian replied simply. “They were real. You can confirm it with the Penguin and his merry staff if you wish.”

“I see. And what do you want now?” Bruce said.

Sebastian continued. “I’m spreading rumors across the multiverse. Specifically, that our world’s Batman is… unique. The Batman who snorts. One of the strongest Batmen in existence, fueled entirely by cocaine. A tragic figure, extremely powerful, but enslaved to his own urges, a man trapped in the shame of the crash that follows.”

Bruce went still.

“All worlds will eventually hear of your… condition,” Sebastian continued. “I thought it would be polite to inform you.”

For a moment, Bruce simply stared at him. There was a pause, a brief and rare break in his mental rhythm, as he tried to process Sebastian’s words.

He didn’t know if this multiverse was real, but he was inclined to believe so and this person sitting next to him was deliberately constructing a reputation for him across realities. He was attempting to distort his reputation and badmouth him on a scale Bruce had not thought of before.

“Why?” Bruce asked at last.

Sebastian’s expression became serious.

“Because I saw them and what they can do,” he said. “Three Batmen. Each mastered ancient Tibetan monk techniques. One generated fire. One controlled electricity. The third wielded something akin to a golden kinetic force. According to them, every Batman across the multiverse possesses something. Astral projection. Enhanced strength. Various abilities.”

He paused.

“Bruce, what do you have?”

Bruce did not answer.

He had trained. He had learned from the ancient Tibetan monks, but nothing like what Sebastian described. The memory of the Penguin’s butler flickered in his mind, along with the unnatural techniques he had seen.

Sebastian continued, tone matter-of-fact. “I’ll be frank with you. You appear to be the least impressive variant. No techniques or special abilities. Just… a man in a suit. The Lame Batman”

Bruce’s silence remained unchanged, but his eyes hardened slightly.

“That’s unacceptable” Sebastian went on. “It reflects poorly on our world. A weak Batman invites attention, particularly from more aggressive variants. If they see this place as lacking, they may come here to impose their version of justice.”

He leaned slightly closer.

“Our world might not lose out to other worlds, but I fear our Batman being so underwhelming will attract idiots with too much ego.”

Bruce’s mind moved rapidly, dissecting the logic. It was absurd, every part of it, yet if the premise of the multiverse is true and those Batmen exist, then Sebastian’s words have logic behind it.

Sebastian smiled again, as if concluding a simple explanation. “So I started a propaganda on your behalf. You’re not weak or the lame Batman. You’re the most special one. You lack techniques because you rely on something else, cocaine-induced enhancement.”

Bruce stared at him, genuinely at a loss for a response that matched the level of nonsense presented.

“It sounds like nonsense,” Sebastian added. “But when they look at the bigger picture where there is a cocaine religion fueling people with super powers, it becomes believable. And you become a true legend.”

Sebastian looked at Batman intently. “When I saw you now, I had an even better idea, you could just join the religion for real. It would simplify things considerably.”

Bruce’s expression hardened. “You want me to become an addict?”

“Devotee,” Sebastian corrected calmly. “We do not use derogatory terms such as ‘addict.’ Fear not, we are a relaxed religion with very few rules. You get to remain constantly high and happy, with enhanced abilities to assist you. You would become far more efficient at crime fighting.”

By now, Selina and Snowflame had both gone quiet as they listened in. Jimmy sat rigidly, eyes moving between the two men, unsure whether to speak or disappear.

“I won’t join whatever this is,” Bruce said flatly.

“I expected as much,” Sebastian replied. “You are too rigid to recognize the greatness being offered.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned forward. “Then consider this, carry blessed cocaine. You don’t need to use it regularly. Think of it as a contingency plan. If you encounter an outsider… another Batman… you use it in front of them. Gain the power, beat them, and establish your dominance over the rest of your counterparts. That will secure your mythos across the multiverse.”

Selina cut in immediately. “Bruce is not going to walk around carrying cocaine. This entire conversation is ridiculous." She shot Sebastian a look. “You’re worse than Snowflame when he’s high.”

Snowflame raised a hand slightly. “I am sitting right here,” he said, mildly offended. Then he smiled. “But I will let it pass. I am too good-natured.”

“I decline,” Bruce said, his voice colder now. “And you will stop spreading these rumors.”

Sebastian replied unfazed. “If you want me to stop, go out there and learn something worth respecting. Preferably an ancient Tibetan monk technique. Something that doesn’t make you look like the weakest version of yourself.” He paused. “Until then, the propaganda continues.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

From the side, Jimmy’s hesitant voice broke in. “Uh… is it okay that I’m sitting here listening?”

Both Sebastian and Bruce turned to look at him.

Sebastian blinked. 

“I forgot you were there.” He waved a hand dismissively. “If you’re short on money, feel free to sell Bruce’s secret back to him. I’m sure he’ll pay generously. Think of it as a subscription service.”

Bruce’s expression dropped several degrees as his gaze shifted from Sebastian to Jimmy.

Jimmy immediately shrank back. “I-I have nothing to do with this, sir! I wouldn’t tell anyone! I swear!!”

“Don’t scare him,” Sebastian said casually. “Look at him. He’s malnourished. You glare any harder and you might break your no-kill rule.”

Before Bruce could respond, a sharp gunshot echoed from the ballroom entrance.

Every head turned.

At the far end of the room, chaos erupted as Two-Face strode in with his gang.

Sebastian sighed. “Again? Can’t we at least get a different villain?”

Snowflame laughed. “This must be the curse you mentioned. That redhead truly is cursed.”

Jimmy spoke urgently. “Sebastian, you can teleport! Get us out of here!”

Sebastian ignored him and instead looked at Bruce. “So, what’s the plan? You slip away, change outfits, and come back dramatically?”

Bruce didn’t answer immediately, his eyes already scanning exits.

Sebastian exhaled. “You know what, never mind. This is a good opportunity to demonstrate the benefits of cocaine. Might convince you to change your heretic ways.”

Bruce turned his head toward him sharply.

“Snowflame,” Sebastian said, “would you like to handle this, or should I?”

Snowflame stood up slowly. 

“Allow me,” he said. “I would very much like to get high.”

In full view of the table, he pulled out a small wrapped ball, brought it to his nose, and inhaled sharply. His body stiffened, his eyes rolling back.

The next moment, his suit tore apart as if unable to contain what surged beneath. A red costume emerged, and white flames erupted around him, licking upward in violent arcs.

Snowflame grinned, wide and unhinged. “Every cell in my being burns with ecstasy,” he declared. “My lord and savior, let me be your instrument in punishing these heretics.”

In Sebastian’s arms, Coca clapped happily, laughing.

“Don’t kill them,” Sebastian said.

Snowflame was already gone.

He shot forward in a blur of red and white, crashing into the entrance where Two-Face’s gang had just begun to advance. His voice echoed through the hall, manic and loud.

“Feel the heat of my touch! Experience the high of cocaine! I shall relish in your futile resistance heretics as you learn what it means to die in bliss!! COCAINE PUNCH!!”

Sebastian watched, tilting his head slightly. “I don’t think he heard me.”

Coca in Sebastian’s hand was laughing and clapping harder now.

Gunfire erupted. Guests screamed and scattered as flames roared and bodies were thrown aside. Snowflame tore through the gang like a living white inferno.

Sebastian glanced back at Bruce. 

“See?” he said calmly. “That hot white fire. That’s what attracted your new girlfriend back in the day. That’s what makes a drug lord's presence on par with a heroic philanthropist rich vigilante working in the night.”

He paused, smile widening.

“Imagine the power. The presence. The… aesthetic. All you have to do is take one sniff.”

Bruce and Selina stared at Sebastian silently unable to respond.

Jimmy said “I want a sniff, please!!”