It was always raining in Gotham City.
The rain fell endlessly, washing over dark alleys and towering skyscrapers, blurring neon lights into pools of gray reflection. High above the streets, perched silently atop a stone gargoyle, Batman stood unmoving, his cape merging with the night.
This was routine.
Three hundred and sixty days a year, Gotham slept under his watch. Crime never rested, and neither did he. From this vantage point, he could see everything—corruption crawling through the streets, desperation clinging to every shadow, and fear breathing quietly beneath the rain.
But tonight, something was wrong.
Without warning, the world collapsed inward.
The rain froze midair.
The gargoyle vanished.
And Batman's vision shattered into a spinning storm of images.
---
Faces flashed before him like broken memories forced into motion.
Catwoman, smirking under moonlight.
Harley Quinn, laughing as chaos burned.
Zatanna, whispering spells in the dark.
Wonder Woman, standing firm amid war.
Talia al Ghul, eyes filled with both love and danger.
Moments… nights… choices he rarely allowed himself to remember.
Then the city itself peeled apart.
Judges accepting bribes behind closed doors.
Doctors silencing truth for money.
Police officers burying reports.
Officials shaking hands with criminals in dim offices.
And always—always—the villains.
Joker, smiling as the world burned.
Two-Face, flipping fate with a scarred coin.
Penguin, ruling crime from the shadows.
Scarecrow, harvesting fear.
An endless cycle—crime, capture, escape. Over and over again.
Batman's mind reeled, but his body remained rigid. Instinctively, he raised his mental defenses.
Then the world shifted again.
---
He stood in a cramped, aging apartment.
A frail old man faced him, his voice stern yet filled with conviction.
> "If you have the power to help others, then you have the responsibility to do so.
This isn't a choice—it's a duty."
Batman felt the weight of the words sink deep.
> "With great power comes great responsibility."
A gunshot thundered.
Blood spread across the floor.
The old man collapsed, trembling fingers gripping Batman's hand as life faded from his eyes.
> "Peter…"
> "Peter!"
---
The shout yanked him back into reality.
Batman's eyes snapped open.
Bright lights flooded his vision.
The smell of disinfectant replaced rain and stone.
A middle-aged man in a white lab coat stood before him, his face etched with concern.
> "Peter Parker, are you alright?"
Batman froze.
Peter Parker?
He examined the man quickly, eyes darting to the name badge clipped to his coat.
Otto Gunther Octavius.
His heart skipped a beat.
Looking down, Batman realized something was terribly wrong.
No armor.
No utility belt.
No Kevlar, no titanium.
Only a simple plaid shirt clinging to an unfamiliar body.
This wasn't Gotham.
This wasn't even outdoors.
They were inside a bright, modern laboratory.
---
Batman's mind raced.
Fear toxin?
Hypnosis?
Reality distortion?
He didn't panic.
Panic was useless.
Instead, he observed.
The lab was pristine. Clean floors. Organized equipment. Portraits of famous scientists lined the walls.
Albert Einstein.
Isaac Newton.
And others he had never seen before.
Bruce Banner.
Hank Pym.
Batman's suspicion deepened.
At the center of the lab stood a massive device—metal arms spread outward like an inverted octopus. A whiteboard nearby was filled with complex equations.
"Nuclear fusion…" Batman muttered internally.
Wayne Enterprises had explored similar projects back in Gotham. He knew these formulas well.
And as his eyes scanned the calculations, his conclusion stunned him.
They were real.
Apart from a minor parameter error, the equations were flawless.
No illusion could fabricate knowledge beyond its creator.
This was real.
---
"Peter," Dr. Octavius said gently, "you don't look well. I suggest you go home and rest."
Batman didn't respond.
Then—
A sharp sting pierced the back of his neck.
Cold flooded his spine like liquid ice.
The world slowed.
Every sound amplified—the hum of machines, the rustle of cloth, even his heartbeat thundered in his ears.
His instincts screamed danger.
His gaze snapped toward the fusion device.
Red warning lights flared.
An alarm blared.
Dr. Octavius rushed to the control panel, hands flying across switches. Within minutes, the lab stabilized. Silence returned.
"My experiment still needs refinement," Otto said calmly, unfazed by failure.
Batman stared at him.
"That sensation," he said slowly, "felt like a warning."
Then he added, "Doctor, may I use your computer?"
Otto nodded without hesitation.
---
Batman moved instantly.
He accessed the system. Then the city network. Then law enforcement databases.
Within seconds, the truth unfolded.
Peter Parker.
Age: 21.
Student at Empire State University, New York.
Orphan. Raised by Uncle Ben's family.
Batman erased all traces of his access and stood.
After thanking Dr. Octavius, he left.
---
The walk to the apartment took nearly an hour.
Crowds. Noise. Life.
This world felt real.
Inside the apartment, Batman locked the door and drew the curtains.
He sat cross-legged on the floor and closed his eyes.
Meditation.
Zatanna had taught him this—to resist mental attacks, to expose illusions.
Three hours passed.
Nothing changed.
When his eyes opened, the truth was undeniable.
"This isn't an illusion."
He exhaled slowly.
"But it may be the result of a temporal disruption… possibly involving Barry Allen."
His consciousness now inhabited the body of a young man named Peter Parker.
Different universe.
Different rules.
Different city.
New York.
Batman clenched his fists.
"I will find out how this happened."
"And I will return to Gotham."
But until then…
This city had no idea who was watching it.