BBS - Chapter 3 : Let the Bat Rest... (Patreon)

The Bat, The Billionaire & The Shenanigans [3]

Disclaimer - I don’t own anything. Disney does, Warner Bro does, and Rowling does.

London

–Bruce Wayne–

At ten and change, Bruce was quite certain that this world was quite different from his previous world. The added freedom, along with access to newspapers and more, without supervision meant that he was free to do his investigation work. 

It had taken some talking to, but his parents had finally accepted that their son was just slightly different from the rest of them, and was not hampered in any manner. Then, it was only a matter of time before he had access to every single book he asked for, on top of any tutor that money could buy. 

Even so, after months of constant research, of nights spent trying to make sense of all the news he could find in the newspaper as well as on the TV, he could conclude that either this world was entirely normal, without any hint of the supernatural, or they were far too limited in number and, as such, they were quite adept at hiding everything from the mundane eyes. 

His existence made him wonder if his parents had some flavour of the supernatural on them or not, because from his research back in Gotham, it was possible for kids to inherit the powers of their parents. But even after a thorough scan of both his parents, as well as multiple trips to their work, where he inspected everything thoroughly to see if any of it was fake or true, it all seemed to be true.

Also, as a natural consequence of time, he had begun referring to them as his parents in his head. It was just something he found himself doing one day, and for the entire day, his mind had basically focused on that one fact and one fact alone. He was….unused to that. Having a family, people he could call mom and dad, and laugh with, even if rarely. To have people waiting for him at home, or to have a full dining table.

It was….different, from what he was used to. One would think that after spending a decade plus like this, he would get used to it, but it didn’t really work like that. Even now, he found himself waking up with nightmares of that night and fearing a repeat of the same, to the point that he had figured out how to create a medium range sensory net.

It took some time, but desperation was quite the fuel. He now had an always-on sensory net around him. Combining his enhanced hearing along with his telekinesis allowed him to track anything in that range, as long as it was as large as a normal pen. It was his crown achievement, he would say. Of course, the sensory net would only be useful if he could do something about it.

And yes, he could. Right now, if he so wished, he could make walls shake and rattle with a single thought, and if pushed, could probably bring their house down, though at the cost of a dizzy head and a nosebleed. The force he could exert with his mind was his primary weapon.

It certainly came in handy when he could lift entire cars with his mind, and being able to exert similar levels of force for a much smaller area meant that most humans were no longer any threat to him, or his parents.

He couldn't have a repeat of that day, ever, and as such, even when he reached a level where he couldn’t really be threatened, he continued training. After all, if he could reach such a level even before puberty, how far could he go with puberty? As far as his research back in Gotham was concerned, powers were really like a muscle, at least the ones that were given naturally, and as such, when somebody went through puberty and experienced a growth spurt, it was likely that the same happened with their powers as well.

If he could have a sensory range large enough to cover two blocks at such a young age, what level might he reach once he got older?

Either way, it did not change his immediate plan. It was to work on his powers, work on his body, study a lot, and make his parents happy. It felt like a betrayal to all that he represented in his past life, but he would like to…not be the Batman anymore.

He had a family here and a happy one at that. They were comfortable, and content with their lives. If he was a one off anomaly with no other supernatural power in the world, then maybe, just this once, he would like to be selfish enough to enjoy it. He would like to use his powers to protect and save what is his, instead of going out in the night and beating up people. He was not the darkness anymore. 

This place was different from Gotham. The darkness was not nearly as dark here, and the threats even less so. It was all so…mundane. This world didn’t really need Batman. They had regular police officers for regular crimes. 

……Maybe he should let Batman rest, after all.

____xx____

The car door was opened by Micky, their driver, as he walked into the house. Before even turning around the corner, he knew whatever was happening inside the house. More times than he could count, that had come back to bite him, as he had sensed things he shouldn’t have sensed, but he bore through all that to make sure that his parents were safe.

It was how he knew that Micky was carrying a gun and there were higher calibre weapons in the trunk of the car. Why? He had no idea. As far as he could tell, the gun in the trunk hadn’t even been touched in months. There were no other guns in the house, or in the houses surrounding them.

But in all three cars that his family owned, there were high calibre automatic rifles inside the trunks. Micky was always carrying as well. The gun laws in the country were quite restrictive compared to Gotham as well, so he had to wonder if there really was some threat to his parents. It had kept him up at night many times, but over the years, as nothing happened and the high calibre gun was only moved in a couple of months, likely to be cleaned and inspected, he had relaxed just a tiny bit.

It went against practically everything he had learned in his past life, but that was his past life. He had to work within the constraints, and as such, he couldn't just confront his parents and ask them about the Guns. Even Micky kept his gun secured and hidden. It was not like any of them appeared tense or showed any signs of being in active danger.

Which is why he had just assumed that this was standard protection protocol for a well-to-do family, even if the school he was going to was an expensive private school.

Shaking his head, he pushed the door open and straightaway headed to his room. No one was home, aside from the househelp, and she was aware that he did not like to be helped with basic tasks. He had always been independent, so his parents didn’t mind. 

After freshening up, he got to work on his homework, which was laughably easy, even after he had skipped the maximum number of grades that his parents and the school would allow him to skip. Apparently, just graduating immediately was not an option; neither was jumping straight to higher classes, as the school was worried about his overall personality development.

A rational and well thought decision.

Unfortunately for him, it was not in his favour, so he had to make do with going to the school for half of the day, take advanced lectures, complete his assignments, and then spend the rest of his time split between the library and the martial arts classes he was taking.

His parents were overjoyed to know that their only son was a martial arts prodigy. He supposed that even in a different world, learning what he already knew beforehand would be easy and quick.

Settling into his favourite reading spot, he began reading the book he had been reading previously. This was the second time he was reading it, not the first time. He did not want to appear any more of an anomaly than he already was. If his parents figured out that he could read a book a day, and recall everything with perfect clarity, then they might get even more worried. Hence, he only pretended to read this when, in reality, he was training.

Training his information processing abilities. This particular spot in the library meant that at the very edge of his sensory net was a road with high peak time traffic. Cars, buses, and people continued to enter and exit his sensory net at a blistering pace. It was a nice mental exercise to catalogue all the data he was getting from objects moving about his sensory net at vastly different speeds.

It was an addictive feeling to have such a level of control over such long distances. If he so wished, he could stop the pickpocket and inflict the beating he would have given a robber back in Gotham, with just a thought, over such distances that it would be impossible to pin it all on him. 

And yet, he stayed his hand, or mind. Sure, he might be able to stop someone from getting robbed, but he would also create an event, a data point that could be used to track down his location. After all, if he was going to interfere once, what’s to say that he won’t interfere again?

Sure, murder attempts were stopped, always, but not in a direct manner. He made sure that the one with the gun missed, stumbled, slipped, or even stabbed the victim, but in a non fatal manner. After that, it was only a matter of time before the medics reached the victim. It was not fair, but that was all he could do right now. If he wanted to remain hidden and not create a trail that could be used to track him down, then this was all he was going to do.

Aside from that, there were other issues he had to resolve sometimes as well. A kidnapping attempt, because why else would a group of four people be carrying a woman inside the trunk who was all tied up and unconscious, had to be foiled, which was easy enough to do. Multiple times, too. A steering nudge here, a stray stone hitting the windshield, a tire burst, the trunk opening on its own when a cop car was behind them.

It was shocking how many crimes he could sense and had to intervene in such a short distance. And that made him stop entirely as well.

It was starting to create a different kind of trail, so he just focused on the data and tried to increase his range of operation. If he was going to intervene, even in the most heinous of crimes, he had to do so in a way that could not be tracked down to even his general location. He did not want to worry his parents in any way.

Nowadays, he is more focused on going as micro as possible. Macro applications of his telekinesis were quite easy, even at full tilt, but affecting a hundred smaller objects at the same time? That was something he struggled with.

Even beyond that, his major goal was to get better at information processing. Whatever that energy was, it was capable of a variety of things. Beyond making his body far tougher than it should be, it also affected his brain to the point that eidetic memory and instant recall, along with heavy multitasking, were not the highlights of his brain.

He could parse through and retain information at such rates that if his range were ever to cover the entirety of London, a tall order, no doubt, then he might just be able to become the city’s police.

Just one guy, staying in one place, concentrating on the entire city and stopping any crimes before they could be committed. Beyond that, he might just grow to be able to do that unconsciously.

The limits were truly nowhere to be seen.

And yet, he wouldn't do it. It was something that he would have abhorred back home. It infringed on people’s liberties, and he was not about to play God, not in his past life and certainly not here.

Here, the stakes were even higher. In Gotham, if his self control slipped for a second, he had the absolute bone chilling fear that he might become a tyrant, but a human tyrant nonetheless. Resourceful, and yet not all encompassing.

But here? If he slipped here and lost his self control, the damage done here would be far higher. Incalculable, really.

Back in Gotham, he had many trusted people who would stop him or, failing that, actually end him, if he went too far.

In this world? As far as he could tell, there was no one else who could. It was a daunting task not to fall into the temptation of trying to solve everything.

Humanity was not something to be solved. It couldn't be solved

He had learned that the hard way.