DC: All for One Chapter 35 — The Beginning after the End (Patreon)

"Good evening, Gotham, and welcome to a very special edition of Gotham Tonight. I'm Janet Calloway, and tonight we mark an occasion that, one year ago, many of us weren't sure we'd live to see past."

"One year ago today, in the plaza outside Wayne Tower, Gotham's very own Boy Wonder, did what many believed was impossible."

"He defeated All for One."

"The man who had killed Superman."

"The man who had beaten the Justice League."

"The man who had held an entire city hostage"

"Defeated not by an alien, not by someone with powers that matched his own, but by a young person from Gotham who refused to give up."

"In the twelve months since that night, the changes to our city have been remarkable. The Narrows, which was levelled during the battle between All for One and Superman and subsequently turned into a forest by the villain Poison Ivy, has been almost entirely cleared."

"The root systems that had grown through the foundations of the old buildings were removed over a period of eight months by a joint effort between the Army Corps of Engineers and a team of specialists from STAR Labs, and the reconstruction of the residential areas is now sixty percent complete with the first families having moved into new housing three months ago."

"The Gotham City Police Department, which lost its headquarters and nearly a third of its officers during All for One's reign, has been rebuilt under the continued leadership of Commissioner James Gordon, who was freed from captivity along with Detective Renee Montoya and others in the days following the battle. The department has recruited heavily from the veteran community, many of whom were former Saviours who turned against All for One during the final confrontation, and crime rates in the city are now at the lowest levels in recorded history."

"Of course not everyone was so lucky, I am of course talking about Superman, Green Lantern as well as many others gave their lives in the fight against All for One, and their sacrifices have been honoured with memorials in every major city in the world. The Superman memorial in Metropolis was unveiled six months ago and has become one of the most visited sites in the country. The Hal Jordan memorial at Coast City will be completed next month."

"Of course, the question that dominated the headlines for months after the battle, and that continues to generate discussion to this day, was the identity of the man behind the mask. It was only a year ago that the world watched in collective shock as the young philanthropist Ethan Kane who had been celebrated on talk shows and magazine covers was revealed to be one of the most terrifying villains this world has ever seen."

"Ethan Kane had been a fixture of Gotham's public life for over a year before the truth came out. The Future Foundation, his company, had provided food banks, medical centres, free phones, and employment services to tens of thousands of people across the city. He was beloved. He was trusted. And the revelation that every act of charity, every smile for the cameras, had been a lie, that revelation shook this city and this country to its core."

"Speaking of the Future Foundation, the company itself has survived, though under dramatically different leadership. The new CEO, who took over in the months following Kane's defeat, has worked aggressively to distance the organisation from its founder's legacy. We have a statement from her that was released earlier today."

The screen cut to a pre-recorded segment. 

Sofia Falcone sat in a modern office with the Future Foundation logo visible on the wall behind her, dressed in a tailored charcoal suit with her dark hair pulled back from her face.

"I want to address the people of Gotham directly," Sofia said. "Like many of you, I was completely unaware of Ethan Kane's true identity. I knew him only as the philanthropist that the rest of the world knew him as, a brilliant young man who seemed genuinely committed to making this city a better place. When I joined the Future Foundation I did so because I believed in the mission he had articulated publicly, the mission to provide services and opportunities to the communities that needed them most. I had no knowledge of his activities as All for One, no knowledge of the Saviours' criminal operations, and no involvement in any of the events that took place during his reign."

She folded her hands on the desk in front of her.

"What I can tell you is that the Future Foundation's mission has not changed. The work we do, the food banks, the medical centres, the employment programmes, the affordable technology, all of it continues, and all of it will continue for as long as this city needs it. We have conducted a complete internal review of every programme and every product line to ensure that nothing from Kane's era remains that could pose a risk to our customers or our community. The phones have been redesigned from the ground up with full independent security audits. The emitter components that were hidden in the original hardware have been removed and the new devices have been certified safe by three separate government agencies."

She looked into the camera.

"Ethan Kane does not define the Future Foundation. The people who work here every day, who show up and do the work because they believe in helping their neighbours, they define this Foundation. And we will continue to honour that definition for as long as we exist. Thank you."

The broadcast cut back to the studio.

"Sofia Falcone was found not guilty of being an accomplice to Kane's crimes in a trial that concluded four months ago. The verdict was controversial, with several legal analysts and former prosecutors questioning the proceedings, and there have been persistent rumours of irregularities involving the presiding judge, but as of today the matter is legally closed."

"One year ago, this city was on its knees. One year ago, most of us had given up hope that things would ever get better. And one year ago, a young hero proved that hope is not something that dies when the world gets dark."

"On behalf of everyone at Gotham Tonight and everyone in this city, we want to say thank you. To Robin and to every person who fought to give us our city back. 

"We will never forget what you did for us."

"Good night, Gotham."

_____________________________________

The television that had been playing the broadcast was a forty-two inch flatscreen that had been sitting in the window display of an electronics store on the corner of Broad and Ninth, and it was now being carried at a full sprint down the sidewalk by a man in a ski mask who was running so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet twice.

He ducked into an alley and pressed himself against the wall with the television clutched to his chest while he peered back around the corner to check if anyone was following him. The street behind him was empty and quiet and he let out a breath and grinned behind the mask and started walking deeper into the alley.

A batarang hit the television.

The projectile embedded itself in the side of the screen with a thunk and the man yelped and dropped the whole thing on the ground where it landed on the corner and the glass cracked across the front.

"Oh come on," the man said, looking down at the ruined television. "I just stole that."

Robin dropped from the fire escape above and landed in a crouch between the man and the mouth of the alley. "That's kind of the problem," he said, straightening up.

The man backed up two steps and reached behind his back and pulled out a small pistol and pointed it at Robin with both hands shaking. "Stay back, man, I'm serious, I'll shoot, I swear to God I'll—"

A boot connected with the back of his head from above and the man went face first into the pavement and the gun clattered away into the dark and Batgirl landed on her feet beside his unconscious body and brushed her hair out of her face.

"I had that," Robin said, looking at her.

Batgirl shrugged as she knelt beside the man and started zip-tying his wrists behind his back. "It's a slow night," she said.

Robin chuckled and walked over and picked up the gun and ejected the magazine and racked the slide to clear the chamber. "Tell me about it."

"How's your patrol been?" Batgirl asked as she finished the restraints and stood up and dusted her knees off.

"Boring," Robin said. "Unbelievably boring. Two attempted muggings, a noise complaint, and now this genius. Especially with Batman back it seems like crime is even lower than it was before."

"So now we only get the occasional idiot," Batgirl said, nudging the unconscious man with her foot.

"Now we only get the occasional idiot," Robin confirmed.

Batgirl called it in to the GCPD dispatch and they left the tied-up man for the patrol car that was three minutes out and grappled up to the rooftop of the building above the alley. Robin settled onto the ledge with his legs hanging over the side and Batgirl sat beside him and they looked out across the city together in the quiet.

The skyline looked different now. 

The gap where the Narrows had been levelled was partially filled with new construction and because of Bruce they were a lot better than before. 

Wayne Tower was still standing, cleaned up and returned to Wayne Enterprises, and the plaza in front of it had been repaved and a small memorial garden had been planted where the final crater had been.

Robin pulled a protein bar from his belt and split it in half and offered one half to Batgirl which she took.

They sat and ate in silence for a while, watching the city lights below, and it was Batgirl who eventually spoke first.

"Does it still feel weird to you?" she asked.

Robin looked at her. "Does what feel weird."

"This. All of it. Being out on patrol, doing normal stuff, chasing guys who steal televisions." She gestured at the city around them. "Like, a year ago we were hiding in a warehouse eating out of garbage cans and trying to figure out how to survive against the most powerful person on the planet, and now we're just... I don't know...."

Robin was quiet for a moment. "Yeah it does," he said. "I keep waiting for something to happen. I keep expecting to turn a corner and see the mask and hear his voice."

"Me too," Batgirl said. "I had a dream last night that I was back in the Task force base when he broke through the ceiling... when I woke up and my hands were shaking so bad I couldn't hold a glass of water for twenty minutes." She looked at her hands now. 

Robin finished his half of the bar and folded the wrapper into a small square and put it back in his belt. "I don't think it's the kind of thing that just goes away," he said. "I think it's the kind of thing you carry. Like a scar. It heals but the mark stays and you learn to live with it being there and eventually it just becomes part of you."

"When did you get so philosophical," Batgirl said.

"I've always been philosophical."

Batgirl laughed and punched him in the shoulder making him smile. 

They sat together on the ledge and watched the city for a while longer.

"Do you think he's really dead?" Batgirl asked eventually.

Robin was quiet for a long time. He looked down at the street below, at the patrol car pulling up to the alley where their television thief was waiting.

"I think so," he said. "The explosion was... there was nothing left, no body, no residue, no trace. Bruce said the energy had to go somewhere and the most likely explanation is that it went through him. Victor's scans of the site didn't find any biological material at all." He paused. "But I guess we'll never know for sure."

They sat with that for a moment.

"But do you know what?" Robin said.

"What."

"I think it doesn't matter. Whether he's dead or whether he's alive somewhere, it doesn't change what we do. We're still here. We still protect the city. And if he ever comes back, we'll deal with it then. But I'm not going to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for a ghost."

Batgirl nodded slowly. "That's probably healthier than what I've been doing."

"What have you been doing?"

"Looking over my shoulder for a ghost."

She bumped her shoulder against his and he bumped back and they sat there together and for a few minutes neither of them said anything.

Their comms crackled.

"Robin. Batgirl." Batman called out to them. "You're needed at the Watchtower. Now."

Robin pressed his finger to his ear. "On our way. What's the situation?"

"Thalia," Batman said and didn't elaborate.

Robin and Batgirl exchanged a look and then they were moving, swinging down off the rooftop and through the streets toward one of the new teleporter pads that had been installed across the city in the months since the reconstruction began. The Justice League had set up six of them at strategic points around Gotham, small enclosed booths disguised as utility stations that could beam someone up to the Watchtower in seconds.

They reached the nearest one in four minutes and stepped inside together and the light took them and when it faded they were standing in the Watchtower's main corridor, three hundred miles above the Earth.

A desk came flying through the air in front of them.

It sailed past their faces close enough that Batgirl felt the wind of it and smashed into the corridor wall and exploded into splinters and the monitor that had been sitting on top of it shattered across the floor.

"I DON'T CARE!" a voice screamed from the common room ahead of them. "I DON'T CARE, I DON'T CARE, I DON'T CARE, YOU PROMISED ME, YOU PROMISED AND NOW YOU'RE TAKING IT BACK, IT'S NOT FAIR!"

Robin and Batgirl stepped over the remains of the desk and walked into the common room.

The room was in a state that could generously be described as a mess and more accurately described as a disaster. Two more desks had been overturned. A couch had been shoved across the floor and was wedged against the far wall at an angle. Several ceiling panels were hanging from their brackets where something had hit them from below, and the observation window on the east side of the room had a crack running across it that had definitely not been there that morning.

In the centre of all this stood Thalia.

She was sixteen years old in appearance though she had been alive for only a few months, having been grown in the artificial womb Ethan had built and brought to full maturity through accelerated development. She had been recovered from Wayne tower from Ethan's lab after the fact and it was decided not to terminate her and allow her to grow to full maturity. 

She was tall for her age with dark hair that fell past her shoulders and eyes that were a pale blue that were very similar to a certain person. Her features were Diana's in the structure of the cheekbones and the jaw, but there was something else in the line of her nose and the set of her brow that came from somewhere else entirely, from the man who had engineered her, and anyone who had known Ethan would have seen the resemblance immediately.

Right now she was standing in the middle of the destroyed common room with tears streaming down her face and her fists clenched at her sides and her feet hovering three inches off the floor.

Trying to reason with her, and failing badly, were Martian Manhunter and Cyborg.

Cyborg looked more or less the same as he had before the battle, which was a small miracle given that Ethan had torn him apart piece by piece at the power station. The reason he had survived was that Ethan, in his arrogance and his amusement, had left the head intact, and the redundant systems that were built into Cyborg's core processor had kept him alive in a low-power state until the rescue teams had found him among the wreckage. It had taken three months to rebuild his body and another two to restore full functionality, but Victor Stone was nothing if not hard to kill.

"Thalia," Martian Manhunter said in the calm tone. "Nobody is cancelling anything. We are simply asking you to be patient while we—"

"YOU SAID I COULD GO DOWN!" Thalia screamed. "YOU SAID NEXT MONTH! YOU SAID NEXT MONTH THREE MONTHS AGO AND THEN YOU SAID IT AGAIN LAST MONTH AND NOW YOU'RE SAYING IT AGAIN AND IT'S NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN BECAUSE YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO LET ME LEAVE!"

"Thalia, please," Cyborg said, ducking under a chair that went sailing over his head. "We're not saying never, we're saying postpone, there's a difference, we just need a little more time to—"

"MORE TIME FOR WHAT? FOR YOU TO KEEP ME LOCKED UP HERE LIKE A PRISONER? I JUST WANT TO SEE THE EARTH, I JUST WANT TO FEEL WHAT GRASS FEELS LIKE AND SMELL WHAT RAIN SMELLS LIKE AND—"

"Hey," Batgirl said. "Thalia. What's going on?"

Thalia's head whipped around and the moment she saw Batgirl her whole demeanour changed, the rage crumbling away and the tears coming harder and she flew across the room and wrapped her arms around Batgirl and pressed her face into her shoulder and started sobbing.

Batgirl put her arms around the girl and held her and looked at Cyborg and Manhunter over her head with a question on her face.

"They said I could go down to Earth next week," Thalia sobbed into Batgirl's shoulder. "They said I was ready. J'onn did the psychological assessment himself and said I had enough control over my abilities to handle a supervised visit. And then today they told me it was postponed again and I know it's because of her, I know it's because Diana told them to stop it because she doesn't want me down there."

"Is that true?" Batgirl asked, looking at Manhunter.

Manhunter's expression was uncomfortable in a way that was rare for someone whose face was usually unreadable. "Wonder Woman has expressed concerns," he said carefully. "About Thalia's readiness. She is worried that Thalia might have difficulty controlling certain aspects of her abilities in an uncontrolled environment, and she has asked that we delay the visit until she is more confident in Thalia's emotional regulation."

"I CAN CONTROL THEM!" Thalia pulled back from Batgirl's shoulder, her eyes glowing red. "I can, I've been practising every single day for months, I haven't broken anything on purpose in three weeks—"

"The desk," Cyborg said, pointing at the splinters.

"That doesn't count!" She snapped. 

Batgirl smoothed Thalia's hair and guided her gently back down to the floor where her feet touched the ground. "Somebody needs to talk to Diana," Batgirl said, looking at the others.

Robin stepped forward. "Where's Bruce?"

"Command centre," Cyborg said. 

"I'll go talk to him," Robin said. "He can talk to Diana. She listens to Bruce more than she listens to any of us. If anyone can get through to her about Thalia it's him."

He turned to leave and then stopped and looked back at Thalia, who was wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffling, and something softened in his face that hadn't been there a year ago.

"For what it's worth," he said, "I think you should get to see the grass."

Thalia looked at him and managed a small smile.

Batgirl put her arm around Thalia's shoulders. "Hey. I have an idea. How about you and I go to the cafeteria and get some ice cream while Robin sorts things out."

Thalia brightened slightly. "Can we watch a movie too?" she asked. "And just, like, hang out? I read about hanging out in a book and it sounds really nice but nobody ever does it with me up here," she said as she looked at the floor.

"Of course we can," Batgirl said. "Movie, ice cream and hanging out, the whole package."

They walked together down the corridor toward the cafeteria, Batgirl's arm still around Thalia's shoulders, and after a minute of walking in silence Thalia turned her head and looked at Batgirl sideways.

"Can I ask you something?" she said.

"Sure."

"Can you tell me about my father?"

Batgirl's step faltered. Just slightly, just enough that someone with normal perception wouldn't have noticed, but Thalia's perception was not normal and she noticed immediately and looked at Batgirl with questioning eyes.

"It's," Batgirl started, and then stopped. "That's complicated, Thalia."

"I know it's complicated," Thalia said. "That's all anyone ever says when I ask about it. Like I'm a child who can't handle complicated things even though I read through the entire Watchtower library in six weeks."

Batgirl took a breath. "You know that you weren't born like most people," she said.

"Yes," Thalia said, nodding along. "I know I'm the combination of lots of different people's DNA. I know Diana is my genetic mother through the eggs that were used and I know I have Superman's and Aquaman's DNA."

"Right," Batgirl said. 

"But their contributions are smaller, more like, they provided specific traits. Genetically they're more like grandparents than parents." Thalia added.

"Where did you hear about the grandparent comparison?" Batgirl asked.

Thalia looked slightly guilty. "My hearing's gotten really good lately," she said. "I overheard Victor explaining it to Barry when I was on the other side of the station."

"Another Kryptonian power," Batgirl said with a slight shake of her head. "You've nearly got the full set at this point."

"Don't change the subject," Thalia said firmly. "Tell me about my father. The one who provided the main source of DNA. The one who designed me."

Batgirl was quiet for a few steps and then sighed "Other than the people you already know about, there was one other person who contributed the primary genetic material. He's considered your genetic father. He's the one who designed the hybrid genome, who figured out how to make all the different DNA sources work together, who built the womb you grew in, and who created the blueprint for what you are."

She paused.

"I can't tell you much about him, but what I can tell you is that he was, in my experience, both the most brilliant person I have ever met and the most terrifying. He could do things that nobody else could do. He could think in ways that nobody else could think. And the things he chose to do with those gifts caused more pain than I can describe."

They reached the cafeteria and walked inside and Batgirl went to the freezer and started pulling out containers of ice cream while Thalia sat down at one of the tables and folded her hands in front of her.

"Is he still alive?" Thalia asked.

"I don't know," Batgirl said honestly. 

Thalia was quiet for a moment, watching Batgirl scoop ice cream into two bowls. "When I'm finally free of this place," she said, "I'm going to find him."

Batgirl set the bowls down on the table and sat across from her and looked at the girl's face, at the pale blue eyes that belonged to Ethan and she hoped to herself, for Thalia's sake, she never found him.

"Eat your ice cream," Batgirl said. 

Thalia picked up her spoon and started eating.

_____________________________________

A small boy ran through the streets of a slum barefoot, weaving between hanging laundry and stray dogs and old men sitting on plastic chairs, his feet slapping against the concrete as he sprinted uphill shouting the same word over and over.

"Doutor! Doutor! Doutor!"

He kept running, past the corner where the women sold fruit from wooden crates, past the building with the blue door where the old woman who told fortunes lived, up the narrow staircase that climbed between two houses and opened onto the next level of the hillside, he kept shouting and the people he passed looked up and pointed him further up the hill because they all knew where the doctor could be found.

He reached the top of the staircase and ran along a path that wound between houses until he arrived at a small shack at the end of a dead-end alley. 

Inside a figure was crouched beside a cot where an elderly woman lay on her back with her eyes closed and a blanket pulled up to her chin. 

The figure wore a long hooded coat despite the heat, the hood pulled forward to shadow his face, and his hands were placed against the old woman's stomach. A faint warm light was coming from beneath his palms, barely visible in the dark interior of the shack, and the woman's breathing, which had been shallow and laboured when the boy arrived was stabilising.

The figure lifted his hands and pulled them back and the light faded and the woman's eyes opened and she looked up at him and said something that the boy couldn't hear from the doorway.

The figure turned toward the boy and the shadows inside the hood shifted enough that the boy could see the lower half of a face, a mouth and a jaw and nothing else.

"O que foi, menino?" the figure asked. (What is it, boy?)

The boy was out of breath and he braced himself on the doorframe and gulped air before he got the words out. "Doutor, é minha irmã, ela está tendo o bebê agora, o bebê está vindo e algo está errado, ela está sangrando muito e minha mãe disse para correr e te buscar porque ninguém mais pode ajudar!" (Doctor, it's my sister, she's having the baby now, the baby is coming and something is wrong, she's bleeding a lot and my mother told me to run and get you because nobody else can help!)

The figure stood up from beside the cot and turned to the old woman. "Beba bastante água esta noite e descanse amanhã. Não levante coisas pesadas por uma semana. A infecção acabou mas seu corpo precisa de tempo para se recuperar." (Drink plenty of water tonight and rest tomorrow. Don't lift anything heavy for a week. The infection is gone but your body needs time to recover.)

The old woman nodded and closed her eyes again and the figure stepped over to the doorway and looked down at the boy. "Me leve até ela," he said. (Take me to her) 

The boy turned and ran and the figure followed him back down through the winding paths and the narrow alleys and the staircases, they descended three levels of the hillside before the boy ducked into the open doorway of a house where the sound of a woman screaming carried out into the street.

The inside of the house was small, hot and lit by a single bare bulb. There were five people in the room, the woman on a mattress on the floor with her legs bent and her face contorted in pain, an older woman kneeling beside her who was the mother, a man who was the husband standing against the wall looking terrified, and two children who had been pushed into the corner.

The figure came through the doorway and immediately crossed the room and knelt beside the woman on the mattress. He assessed the situation in seconds, his hands moving across her stomach and between her legs, and he spoke to the mother.

"O bebê está de lado, preciso virá-lo. Segure a mão dela e não a deixe se mover." (The baby is sideways, I need to turn it. Hold her hand and don't let her move.)

The mother grabbed her daughter's hand and the figure placed both hands on the woman's swollen belly and pushed, the woman screamed and the figure kept talking to her. "Respire. Respire comigo. Dentro e fora. Eu sei que dói, eu sei, mas o bebê precisa virar ou ambos vão ter problemas. Respire." (Breathe. Breathe with me. In and out. I know it hurts, I know, but the baby needs to turn or you're both going to be in trouble. Breathe.)

He worked for several minutes, his hands on her belly, guiding the baby, and when he felt it turn into the correct position he nodded and moved down, he then went on to deliver the baby which took the better part of an hour. 

The mother started sobbing and laughing at the same time and the husband slid down the wall and sat on the floor with his face in his hands and the two children in the corner pressed forward to see and the boy who had run for the doctor was grinning so wide it looked like his face might split.

The figure handed the baby to the mother and then turned his attention back to the woman on the mattress. She was still bleeding, more than she should have been, and her face was going pale and her breathing was getting shallow. The figure placed both hands on her abdomen and the warm light returned, glowing from beneath his palms, he held it there for a long time while the bleeding slowed and then stopped and the colour came back to her face and her breathing went back to normal.

When he pulled his hands away and the light faded the woman was asleep and the baby was nursing against her chest and the room was quiet.

The husband pushed himself up from the floor and reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled handful of bills and held them out to the figure with shaking hands. "Por favor, doutor, por tudo que você fez, leve isso, é tudo que temos mas você salvou minha esposa e meu filho—" (Please, doctor, for everything you did, take this, it's all we have but you saved my wife and my child—)

The figure looked at the money in the man's outstretched hand and then gently pushed it back toward him and closed the man's fingers around it.

"Eu não faço isso por dinheiro," (I don't do this for money) the figure said quietly.

He stood up and walked to the doorway and stepped out into the night air of the slum and started walking, back up the hillside, and when he had gone far enough that no one could see him he stopped in the shadow between two buildings and closed his eyes and the air around him shifted and he was gone.

He reappeared in a different shack on a different hillside on the other side of the city, a single room with a cot and a wooden table and a basin of water and nothing else. He stood in the centre of the room and breathed heavily for a moment, his hands bracing on the table, and then he straightened up and walked to the basin and turned on the tap and put his hands under the water and started washing them.

The water ran clear and then pink and then clear again as whatever residue had been on his skin washed away, he scrubbed his hands, working the soap between his fingers and under his nails, and when they were clean he turned off the tap and dried them on a cloth that hung on a nail beside the basin.

He reached up and pulled the hood back from his face.

The mirror above the basin was cracked and spotted with age but it was clear enough to show the face that looked back at him.

Ethan stared at his own reflection.

He was thinner than he had been. 

The angles of his jaw and his cheekbones were more pronounced, the skin drawn tighter across the bones, and there were dark circles under his eyes that hadn't been there before. A scar ran from his left temple down to his jaw and smaller scars were visible on his neck and his collarbones where the skin had been torn and had healed imperfectly.

He looked at his reflection for a long time.

Then he turned away from the mirror and walked to the cot and sat down on the edge of it and put his face in his hands. 

(AN: So here we go it has been revealed. Ethan is not dead he is in a slum somewhere acting as a doctor, but why is that? What happened over the past year that could've made that change. And what is the third arc really going to be about? Find out next time on—"