Ch: 11 & 12 [Joe & Thorne]

AN: 2 more chs left.

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After spending some time with Alfred, Bruce gradually began the process of getting back on his feet. The initial days were challenging as his body struggled to readjust to the physical demands of movement after a decade of inactivity. Physical therapy sessions were a regular part of his routine, and under the guidance of expert therapists, he pushed himself to regain his strength, balance, and mobility.

Each day, he would work on simple exercises to rebuild his muscle tone, improve his coordination, and increase his endurance. These exercises started from basic movements like stretching and range of motion exercises, eventually progressing to more complex routines involving light weights and resistance bands.

He persevered through the muscle soreness and fatigue, keeping his eyes set on the goal of regaining his full physical potential. The pain was a reminder of the progress he was making, motivating him to push harder during each session.

As the weeks passed, Bruce's dedication began to pay off. His body gradually grew stronger, and his movements became more fluid. He was able to stand on his own, take a few steps, and eventually walk short distances with the support of a cane. It was a slow and steady process, but he embraced the journey, knowing that patience and persistence would lead him to success.

Outside of his physical therapy, he also engaged in mental exercises. He read extensively, catching up on the years he had missed, familiarizing himself with the advancements in various fields. He spend his time reading newspaper, and magazines and watching TV to get overall info about the changes.

One evening, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the front garden of Wayne Manor, Bruce received a surprise from his father. With a gentle smile, Thomas beckoned him outside, and Bruce, intrigued, followed his father's lead.

As they stepped into the cool evening air, Bruce noticed the big garden lights were on and something remarkable parked in the driveway—a sleek, black vehicle that looked like a work of art and engineering brilliance combined.

"No way!" His eyes widened with awe.

"How is it?" Thomas asked with a warm, satisfied smile, noticing his son's surprised face. "It took me quite a while to build this."

Bruce approached the vehicle and ran his fingers along its smooth surface, admiring the beautiful details and craftsmanship. It was a sleek design, unlike anything he had seen before, with an aerodynamic shape that hinted at incredible speed and handling capabilities.

He looked at his father with excitement, eager for a closer look inside. His father nodded, gesturing for him to go ahead.

As Bruce opened the door and slid into the driver's seat, he felt like he was entering another world. Everything was state-of-the-art and futuristic, from the luxurious interior to the cutting-edge technology that filled every inch of space.

It was clear that Thomas had poured countless hours and resources into designing this vehicle, creating a masterpiece that was truly one of a kind. Bruce admired his father's passion and ingenuity, feeling fortunate to be able to experience such a unique creation. Although he wanted to create this Batmobile himself, he decided not to dwell on this thought and just enjoy the moment.

He checked every nook and cranny of the Batmobile, taking note of all the features and functions. It was exactly how he had drawn it in his sketchbook all those years ago—except better. As Bruce settled in behind the wheel, he couldn't help but grin like a kid on Christmas morning.

"So, what do you think?" Thomas asked, leaning against the side of the Batmobile, a proud smile on his face.

"Awesome," He slipped out of the driver's seat and turned his attention toward the engine compartment, eager to see the powerhouse hidden underneath. He lifted the hood and peered inside, marveling at the intricate system of components that came together to form such a potent driving force.

Bruce was captivated by the Batmobile's engine, a marvel of engineering that was both powerful and efficient. Although it's not as advanced as the ones from the Marvel Universe, it's advanced enough to give all the other cars in this reality a run for money. He ran his fingers over the finely tuned components, marveling at the craftsmanship that had gone into its creation.

"Wow, Dad, this engine is incredible," He exclaimed, his eyes filled with admiration. "I can't believe you built this."

Thomas smiled modestly, enjoying his son's amazement, "Well, I had a lot of help from Lucius Fox, a close friend of mine."

'Lucius Fox, huh? It would seem that my meddling with the timeline has started to take effect already,' Bruce mused to himself.

Although he had yet to meet Lucius Fox in this timeline, Bruce knew the man would play an important role in shaping his future. Fox was a brilliant scientist and engineer who would go on to become Wayne Enterprises' Chief Technical Officer and the primary supplier of Batman's equipment.

Bruce closed the hood and turned to his father, his mind racing with possibilities, "So, what else can this thing do? Don't tell me you added all those weapons too."

Thomas chuckled at his son's enthusiasm, "What do you think?"

"You got to be kidding me," Bruce grinned from ear to ear.

"Go ahead, check it out," Thomas encouraged, stepping aside to give his son access to the Batmobile's arsenal of gadgets and weapons.

Bruce climbed back into the driver's seat and activated the controls, revealing a hidden panel of buttons and switches. He eagerly pressed each button, triggering a series of mechanisms that unfolded from various parts of the Batmobile's exterior.

The first weapon revealed itself as a pair of retractable blades that extended from the front bumper, perfect for slicing through obstacles or enemies. Next, two grappling hooks emerged from the sides, ready to be fired at targets for quick escapes or strategic maneuvers. Finally, two small guns appeared from the front fenders, providing additional firepower when needed.

Bruce was amazed by the Batmobile's diverse arsenal, impressed by his father's creativity and ingenuity. It was clear that Thomas had spared no expense in ensuring that the Batmobile was equipped with the most advanced and effective tools possible, demonstrating his commitment to excellence.

"Wait! Is this...?" His eyes fell on the red flip switch near the gearbox, "You added tracking missiles?!" He asked excitedly.

Thomas nodded with a smirk, "And smoke bombs, plus a couple of things here and there."

Bruce couldn't contain his excitement, "This car is freaking awesome, Dad!"

Thomas watched his son's giddy expression with amusement, glad to see that he still retained his boyish enthusiasm. He placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder, giving it a fond squeeze, "Glad you like it, champ. So, you better get healthy fast and I will teach you how to drive. Then we can take this beauty for a ride."

Bruce grinned widely, his eyes shining with excitement, "Yes, sir."

"Now, let's head inside. It's getting late, and I don't want to get yelled at by your mother again," Thomas patted his son's back affectionately as they made their way back inside the manor.

Bruce paused in his tracks, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Hey, Dad, how fast does this baby go?"

"Well, that's for you to find out when you learn how to drive it," Thomas replied mysteriously, leaving Bruce to wonder just how fast the Batmobile could actually go.

'Hmmm, this is nice. With this ver. 1.0, I will have a general idea of how far technology has progressed in this reality,' He thought to himself as he walked alongside his father, 'Well, not that I need a driving lesson, oh well...'

[Dinner table]

Bruce and Thomas returned to the dining room and found Martha waiting for them, her lips curving into a tender smile as she observed her husband and son approaching the dinner table.

"What are you guys up to?" Martha inquired curiously, noticing their wide smiles.

"Oh, nothing much," Thomas gave her a wink as he pulled out her chair for her, "Just showing Bruce the latest project I've been working on."

She raised an eyebrow, "The Batmobile?"

"Yep," Bruce chimed in enthusiastically, "It's amazing, Mom!"

"Hmm, is that so?" She smirked, shaking her head fondly.

"It sure is," Thomas laughed as he took his seat across from his wife, "You should have seen his face when he saw it!"

Bruce rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance, "C'mon, Dad, I was just surprised, that's all."

Martha chuckled at their exchange, reaching across the table to take her husband's hand in hers. Her eyes shone with adoration as she gazed at the two most important people in her life, "Well, as long as you boys are having fun, that's all that matters to me."

'Ah, this is nice,' Bruce thought to himself, observing his parents' loving interactions.

He never expected to be part of such a warm and loving family after being stuck in another universe, but he was grateful to be given the chance to experience it.

Thomas cleared his throat, turning his attention to the food on the table, "Let's eat before this delicious food gets cold."

Everyone eagerly dug into the meal, enjoying each other's company as they savored the delicious flavors and aromas. It was a simple moment, but it filled Bruce's heart with happiness, reminding him of the value of family and togetherness.

[Meanwhile in Arkham Asylum]

In the dark and grim confines of Arkham Asylum, Joe Chill and Rupert Thorne were subjected to the relentless torment of their fellow inmates. The twisted and sadistic individuals that inhabited the asylum saw the two men as easy prey, and they took every opportunity to make their lives a living hell.

As the inmates gathered around, a sinister excitement filled the air. They had forced Joe Chill and Rupert Thorne into a makeshift arena, a dimly lit cell where the cold, damp walls bore witness to countless acts of violence and cruelty.

Chill and Thorne, both battered and broken from years of suffering, stood at opposite ends of the arena. Their faces were swollen, their bodies bruised, and their spirits shattered. They knew that there was no escape from this nightmarish ordeal.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" The chant of the inmates echoed through the cell, a chilling chorus that served as a cruel reminder of their audience's sadistic pleasure.

Thorne, desperate to avoid further punishment, made the first move. He lunged at Joe Chill with a wild, uncoordinated swing. Chill, though weakened, managed to sidestep the attack, causing Thorne to stumble and crash into the cell's grimy wall.

The inmates erupted in laughter, their cruel taunts filling the air. They reveled in the sight of two former criminals now reduced to pitiful shadows of their former selves.

Chill seized the opportunity to strike back, landing a feeble punch on Thorne's ribs. It was a weak blow, lacking the strength and precision of his earlier years as a thug. Thorne grunted in pain but retaliated with a clumsy kick that barely made contact.

The fight continued in this pitiful fashion, a stark contrast to the once-mighty individuals who had terrorized Gotham City. Each punch, kick, and stumble served as a grim reminder of the consequences of their actions and the depths to which they had fallen.

The inmates watched with sadistic glee, placing bets on which of the two would be the first to collapse from exhaustion or sustain a serious injury. It was a grotesque spectacle, a reflection of the darkness that permeated the walls of Arkham Asylum.

In the midst of the chaos, a deranged inmate shouted, "Kill each other! Show us some real blood!" His words were met with cheers and jeers from the others, their thirst for violence insatiable.

Joe Chill and Rupert Thorne, once adversaries in the criminal underworld, now found themselves bound by a horrific fate. They had become victims of the very madness and brutality they had once perpetuated.

As the brutal fight raged on, the inmates' chants grew louder, drowning out the anguished cries of the two men who had fallen so far from their former lives of crime and power. In the heart of Arkham Asylum, where madness reigned supreme, their suffering was just another chapter in the twisted tale of Gotham City's underworld.

[2 days later]

"How long do we have to endure this hell hole? It's been ten freaking years. You told me, someone is going to get us out of here in a few days. Where the hell is that fucker?" Joe Chill spat at Thorne in rage. "You weren't joking when you said you still have a way to contact outside, were you?

Thorne glanced around the cell, ensuring no one was eavesdropping before he continued, "His name is Victor Fries. He's a genius scientist who used to work for Wayne Enterprises."

Chill furrowed his brow, trying to recall the name, "Fries... Who the fuck is that?"

Thorne explained, "He was fired by Thomas Wayne himself for using Wayne Enterprises' resources to fund his cryogenic experiments, all in an attempt to revive his wife who's in a cryogenic coma. Fries was driven to madness by the loss of his wife and became obsessed with cryonics."

Understanding dawned on Chill's face, "And how is he going to break us out?"

Thorne leaned even closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, "Fries believes that I have access to some equipment that he needs for his experiments. He's been trying to recreate the technology he was working on at Wayne Enterprises, and I've promised him access to that equipment in exchange for our freedom."

"So, we are counting on a lunatic to break us out? Do you even have that equipment? And how the hell did you contact him? I am here with you all the time, I never saw you talking to anyone other than when they call to fuck us over," Chill asked raising his brows.

Thorne smirked, revealing a hidden sense of confidence, "Oh, I have my ways. Wayne thinks he is the only one who has connections. As for the equipment... Do you think I have anything left after Wayne fucked everyone over to the other side?"

"Then?" Joe narrowed his eyebrows.

Thorne leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with a cunning glint, "You see, Chill, it's all about playing the game. Fries may be a genius, but he's also a broken man driven by obsession. I've managed to manipulate him by offering the promise of access to equipment he believes is crucial for his experiments. He's so consumed by his quest to revive his wife that he'll do anything to obtain what he needs."

Chill listened intently, starting to grasp the plan, "So, we make Fries believe that Wayne has everything he needs, and he'll confront Wayne to get it. In the chaos that follows, we slip away unnoticed."

Thorne nodded, a sly smile forming on his lips, "Exactly. Wayne and Fries will be too preoccupied with their own vendettas to notice us making our escape. And by the time they realize what's happened, we'll be long gone, far away from Gotham."

Chill smirked, beginning to see the potential of their scheme, "And where do we go once we're out of here?"

Thorne's eyes flickered with rage, "Anywhere but here, Chill. Gotham has become a twisted nightmare, and I have no intention of returning to a city that has brought us nothing but suffering. We'll disappear, start anew, then when we have enough power..."

He punched hard on the cell wall, "We will come back for the Waynes... And we will pay him the ten years of torments with interest."

[Wayne Manor] [Hidden Cave]

Alfred closed the computer and made his way toward the lift.