"Welcome, Batman."
The figure wearing Alex's face curled his lips into a smirk, his eyes locked firmly on the restrained Dark Knight.
"Or should I call you… Bruce Wayne."
Batman stared back coldly, offering no reply. Instead, he silently studied the man's posture and scanned the room with his peripheral vision.
Aside from the heap of mangled corpses, he noticed a man in a tattered red suit hanging by the wall. The man's costume was torn to shreds, his body covered in wounds, and both arms bent at grotesque angles—clearly broken.
Batman didn't recognize the red-suited man, but he did recognize the older man with the sharp mustache standing beside him—the one that young imposter had called "Father."
These were the two who had attacked the Batcave.
"They say the most dangerous place is the safest. Your friends would never guess we didn't move you far, but left you right here in Gotham—in the very Arkham Asylum you helped establish," the false Alex said, fingers interlocked as he smiled.
"Oh no, that was built by someone else," he added mockingly. "An older, more worn-down Batman. Originally, I meant to take that guy out—but I underestimated you all. Didn't expect you to react that fast."
"I didn't expect you to have such a death wish," Batman said evenly.
"What do you mean?" the imposter blinked in confusion.
Batman's eyes narrowed with disdain, as if looking at a clown. "The moment you used Alex's face, I wanted to say it—you're a joke. You even dare call yourself Alex. What do I call someone like that?"
The imposter's expression shifted briefly but was quickly masked with a smile and a shake of his head.
"And here I thought you were the world's greatest detective," he said. "I assumed you'd understand me best. But maybe you never really knew Alex at all. How do you know the one you knew was even the real Alex?"
Batman's gaze hardened. A flicker of unease crossed his mind—but he quickly buried it. Glancing at the throne the imposter sat on, Batman regained his composure.
"Your words mean nothing to me," he said coldly. "But you… you've already begun to feel the price of sitting in that chair, haven't you? The Mobius Chair—it's not something just anyone can use."
The imposter leaned forward slightly, directing the Mobius Chair to float closer to Batman.
"True. You've sat in it too. That's actually why I'm letting you live—for now."
"I should've realized it earlier," Batman muttered. "That mutated Parademon we encountered—the one corrupted by strange energy—that was no accident. It was your plant. I kept thinking its aura was eerily familiar... antimatter universe."
Batman was starting to see the picture now. The scale of the plan. The madness of it.
Back when he'd briefly sat on the Mobius Chair under Darkseid's control, he had received near-limitless knowledge—including a glimpse into the antimatter universe.
And what he saw there haunted him.
That place was chaos incarnate. Its oppressive nature unlike anything in the known cosmos. And terrifyingly close to their own universe.
"I know what you're trying to do," Batman said, voice like steel. "But no matter how far you've gotten, you won't succeed."
"Oh?" The imposter didn't look threatened. He simply stared back.
"And who's going to stop me? Your precious teammates? They're all busy fighting a much bigger crisis. Meanwhile, I've found the final piece of my puzzle."
As he spoke, the imposter extended a hand—and in the next instant, an invisible wave of energy swept out toward Batman.
A low, insidious whisper began to echo in his ears.
Batman's pupils contracted.
He knew exactly what this was.
It was the voice of the Anti-Life Equation.
Loneliness. Despair. Rejection. Fear. Mockery. Judgment. Misunderstanding. Guilt. Shame. Failure. Condemnation. Lies. Death...
One by one, the darkest aspects of humanity and life surged upward, like a flood of shadows rising from the abyss. The whispers—ancient and oppressive—invaded Batman's mind in an instant. Though he resisted with all his might, trying to block out the force storming through his consciousness, his efforts were barely effective.
"You… how can you possibly…"
Batman couldn't comprehend how this fake Alex could wield such a horrifying power.
"You still don't understand?" the imposter sneered, locking eyes with him. "The secret of this Earth, the key to this universe's collapse—it was never a normal reality to begin with. The Anti-Life Equation etched into this planet's surface… that's the core of everything."
The corruptive energy spread like wildfire. Every sentient being who even heard the equation would lose their identity—reduced to a puppet bound by the will of its wielder.
"This power… it's beautiful, isn't it?" the imposter said softly. "Even incomplete, it's enough to destroy a universe. It's enough to redefine reality."
Faint glimmers of molten starlight pulsed around the false Alex. The glow was subtle, but its effect devastating. Anyone who gazed into it would feel their sanity drain away, slowly drowning in madness.
"Don't you miss it?" he continued. "The feeling when you were under Darkseid's control? That surrender of your will? Let it go, Batman. You're a vital piece in my plan."
"Ghh—!"
Batman clenched his teeth hard, eyes shut tight, struggling to keep his unraveling sanity intact. But the Anti-Life Equation surged through his mind like a hurricane—relentless and deafening.
This was a past he never wanted to relive. A nightmare he swore never to endure again.
"Your knowledge… will help me unlock the gateway to the Anti-Matter Universe. I need your mind, Batman."
"Ahhh… aaAAAHH!"
The agony tore through him. Batman's head felt like it would split open. He wanted to clutch his skull, but his arms were bound tightly—no escape. Veins bulged under his skin, and every cell in his body screamed in resistance against the Equation's corruption.
But wave after wave of mental assault battered his defenses.
Then, just as the Anti-Life Equation reached its threshold, there was a silent snap—like a string inside his soul had broken.
Batman's mind went blank.
His body stiffened... then slumped forward, head hanging limply.
The imposter's twisted grin widened in satisfaction. Slowly, he turned toward the mustached man standing beside him.
"Nolan. Wake them up."
Nolan gave a slight nod, then stepped toward the red-clad man hanging motionless nearby. Without hesitation, he twisted the man's arm with a sharp crack.
"AAAHHHHH!!"
The man in red was yanked awake by a wave of blinding pain, his mouth opening wide to scream—only for Nolan to step forward and slap him across the face.
CRACK.
The sickening thud echoed in the chamber as the man's jaw split, his teeth flying from his mouth in a spray of blood. The scream died instantly.
Nolan then turned to Batman. Gripping his shoulder, he gave it a slight squeeze—SNAP—the sound of bone breaking rang out, sending a chill through the air.
Batman jolted awake with a shudder. But unlike the red-clad man, he made no sound—his eyes now calm, fixated on the figure seated atop the Mobius Chair: the impostor who looked exactly like Alex.
Seeing this, the false Alex finally gave a heavy nod.
"At last... even Batman kneels before me. Mark, release him. What comes next is the final piece."
"Understood," said the young man behind Batman. With a firm yank, he snapped the restraints free.
Batman staggered a bit, but then slowly stood. His gaze was distant, blank—and never left the impostor.
The false Alex guided the Mobius Chair to him.
"Batman, I need you to open the gateway to the Anti-Matter Universe."
"As you wish… my master."
Batman's face was vacant, his voice devoid of emotion. Despite the pain radiating from his shattered shoulder, he turned his gaze toward the struggling, bound Johnny Quick.
"My lord," Mark asked curiously, "why not open the Anti-Matter gate yourself? We already confirmed the Speed Force in Flash's body can act as the bridge between the two universes."
"Not everyone is fit to command this chair," the false Alex replied flatly, glancing at Mark.
"This chair gave me knowledge of eras I never imagined. But it also... limits me. Batman was right. The Mobius Chair is changing me. It's pulling me toward absolute logic… stripping away all humanity. As long as I resist its control, I can't spare the focus to open the gateway."
As the false Alex explained this to Mark and Nolan, Batman had already moved. He now stood before Johnny Quick, muttering something unintelligible—neither English nor any known language. It sounded more like song… or vibration. Notes no ordinary vocal cords were meant to produce.
And under that sound—Johnny reacted.
The speedster, collapsed on the floor, began twitching violently. He seemed to struggle against something inside him. Sparks of Speed Force lightning flared from his body, lashing out and scorching the walls in jagged bursts.
Alex, Nolan, and Mark instinctively stepped back. They could feel it now—a force slowly gathering before them.
An energy beyond words.
Even Nolan, battle-hardened and inhuman, felt a weight settle in his chest. His brow furrowed. Without hesitation, he stepped in front of Mark protectively, shielding his son, all while staring unblinkingly at Johnny Quick.
On the floor, Johnny convulsed amid the storm of Speed Force lightning. He seemed like he wanted to scream, to say something—but his mouth produced no sound. Not even a whimper.
Yet the expression on his face said everything. He was being crushed—from the inside out—by some unbearable force.
Under Batman's cryptic chanting, the Speed Force within Johnny Quick was forcefully awakened—wrenched from within him and connected to another realm.
Johnny's bloodshot eyes stared wide with panic and rage. His face was twisted with unwillingness, fear, and pain. He looked like a demon dragged from the depths of hell. The uncontrollable Speed Force yanked his body upward, lifting him into the air through a surge of eerie, alien energy.
"It's beginning…"
The fake Alex's eyes lit up, his voice trembling with anticipation. He could feel the dimensional rift forming.
And just as he had predicted, the Speed Force tore open a crimson portal from Johnny's body, twisting with violent lightning that erupted into a storm of raw energy and dazzling brilliance.
All around Arkham Asylum, the weather twisted into chaos. Thunder howled and clouds spiraled like a vortex. The building groaned and shook, as if in agony—its decayed structure screaming under the strain of something ancient awakening.
But the imposter only grinned wider, his smile warping into one of madness.
He felt it. That presence. That suffocating force pressing down from the other side of the veil. A power born from outside existence itself. A force vast enough to erase not just Earth, but the entire multiverse.
"Hahahahahaha!!"
The imposter threw his head back and laughed wildly, staring into the growing crimson void. He imagined the multiverse collapsing under a wave of anti-matter—realities crushed one by one like fragile glass.
"No one—no force in the universe can stop it! This power was born from reality itself. It is the end of all things… and the beginning of true freedom! All life shall be liberated beneath its touch!"
"…Descend!"
"The Anti-Monitor—!!"
As the imposter roared the name, a massive shadow began to form in the heart of the crimson vortex. Just its presence warped the air and struck fear into the hearts of all present. The pressure was suffocating, the silhouette larger than anything born of natural law.
And yet, the fake Alex stood enthralled, nearly trembling with awe. He leapt from the Mobius Chair, arms stretched wide as if welcoming a long-lost god.
"Break the cycle of eternal illusion! Tear apart this hollow reality! Death shall be the final gift I give to all life! I've seen our future!"
Then—his face froze.
The portal pulsed.
And the terrifying colossus inside… suddenly shrank. The overwhelming shadow compressed into the form of a man no taller than two meters.
From within the portal, a figure calmly stepped out.
He looked exactly like Alex.
The man's voice was quiet, emotionless, and heavy with certainty.
"What future did you see?"
...........
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