Chapter 6: Barrett Wayne as.. Wayne
Chapter 6: Barrett Wayne as.. Wayne
Barrett sat cross-legged on the bed, the soft sunlight streaming in through the ornate windows of the lavish hospital room. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was in a pivotal moment, one where the curtains would finally part, revealing the answers he craved. The memory of ROB and the spinning wheels lingered in his mind, as did the mysterious powers and abilities he'd gained.
His hand moved instinctively, and suddenly, as if by muscle memory, a glowing blue interface materialized before his eyes.
STATUS
• Name: Barrett Wayne
• Race: Human (Race Card)
• Gacha Tickets: 3 (Free Gacha Tickets Available)
• Cards in Ascension Deck:
o Diamond Card: 1
o Platinum Card: 1
o Gold Card: 1
• Memory Shard: 1
The name at the top made his heart skip a beat: Barrett Wayne.
Barrett froze, his gray eyes locked on the glowing letters. "Wayne? As in... Bruce Wayne? Batman?" His voice was a hushed whisper, tinged with disbelief and shock.
The pieces of the puzzle began clicking together. The enormous wealth, the extravagant hospital room, the subtle but familiar air of tragedy and responsibility—it all pointed to the legendary billionaire vigilante from the DC universe. And yet, it wasn't Bruce Wayne listed on his status screen. It was him: Barrett Wayne.
"Alternate world…" Barrett muttered. His thoughts raced as he pieced things together. ROB had said this would be a fusion of Harry Potter and DC, but he hadn't mentioned anything about Barrett replacing Bruce Wayne.
He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. The screen still glowed before him, and one item caught his attention: the Memory Shard.
"What's a Memory Shard?" he asked himself, before realizing there was only one way to find out. With a flick of his hand, he selected it. The interface responded instantly, the shard vanishing from the inventory as the room around him dimmed. The sunlight faded, the furniture blurred, and he was suddenly surrounded by swirling shadows and light.
A wave of nausea hit him as the world shifted, pulling him into what felt like a dreamscape. The shadows coalesced into images, and Barrett found himself watching someone else's memories—his memories now. He was standing on a cobblestone street, holding the hands of two tall figures. A man and a woman, dressed in fine evening wear, walked beside him, their faces radiating love and warmth.
"Thomas and Martha Wayne," Barrett whispered, his voice trembling. He recognized them instantly.
In the memory, the three of them were walking out of a theater, the bright marquee overhead glowing with the words The Mark of Zorro. The younger version of himself, no older than seven, was smiling, holding a toy sword in his free hand.
The scene played out with eerie familiarity, almost identical to the tragic tale of Bruce Wayne. The three of them walked into a dark alleyway, and Barrett felt his stomach churn.
"No, don't go in there," he muttered, knowing what was about to happen.
But the memory moved forward, unstoppable. A shadowy figure emerged from the darkness—a man with a scruffy beard, wearing a tattered coat. A gun gleamed in his hand as he stepped forward, demanding their valuables.
Barrett's parents moved protectively in front of him, their voices calm and soothing as they tried to de-escalate the situation. But the man, trembling with desperation, pulled the trigger. Two deafening gunshots rang out, and Thomas and Martha Wayne crumpled to the ground. Blood pooled beneath them as young Barrett fell to his knees, his screams echoing into the night.
Barrett clutched his chest, feeling the boy's pain as if it were his own. Tears streamed down his face as the memory unfolded further. The man—the infamous Joe Chill—grabbed the pearls from Martha's neck before fleeing into the shadows. Young Barrett sat there, trembling, his hands stained with his parents' blood.
The memory shifted again, fast-forwarding through the aftermath: the police arriving, the funeral, the cold, empty halls of Wayne Manor. Barrett saw himself wandering those halls, lost and broken, before collapsing on the floor of his room. It was then that something strange happened. The air around him shimmered, and a faint glow enveloped his small body.
"This is new," Barrett muttered, watching closely.
In the memory, young Barrett's gray eyes began to shine with an otherworldly light. The Fallen Angel bloodline he'd inherited awakened in that moment, responding to his overwhelming grief and anger. Feathers of dark silver sprouted briefly from his back before vanishing, leaving only a faint trace of his power.
The memory paused, and a voice echoed in Barrett's mind—his own voice, but filled with sorrow and determination. "I will never be weak again. I will protect what I love. No one else will die because of me."
Barrett stepped back, reeling from what he'd seen. The memory shard had revealed not just the tragedy of his parents' death, but also the awakening of his powers. It was clear now: this world wasn't the exact DC universe he knew. It was an alternate version, one where Bruce Wayne didn't exist—where he had taken Bruce's place as Barrett Wayne.
And yet, there was a nagging detail he couldn't ignore. In the original DC story, Joe Chill had acted out of desperation, a common thug driven by poverty. But in this memory, there was something more. Barrett could feel it in the way Chill had moved, the precision of the shots, the cold, calculated look in his eyes.
"This wasn't random," Barrett muttered. "It was planned."
He thought back to the DC stories he'd read, the countless iterations of Batman's origin. In some versions, Joe Chill had been manipulated, a pawn in a larger conspiracy. Barrett's gut told him this was no different. Someone had orchestrated his parents' deaths, and Joe Chill was just the trigger man.
The memory shard's vision faded, and Barrett found himself back in the hospital room. His breathing was heavy, his mind racing with questions. Who had wanted the Waynes dead? And why?
Barrett clenched his fists, a spark of determination lighting up his gray eyes. Whoever was behind this, they would pay. But first, he needed to understand his powers, his new reality, and the tools at his disposal.
"This world may be different," he said quietly, "but the game hasn't changed. I'll uncover the truth, and I'll make them pay for what they did."
As he gazed out the window, the sun began to set, casting the room in a warm golden glow. Barrett knew the road ahead would be difficult, but he welcomed the challenge. He wasn't just Barrett Walker anymore. He was Barrett Wayne, and his journey had only just begun.