Chapter 3: We’ll Stay With You Till the End

Dawn lingered on the windowsill, but the early autumn wind was far less gentle...

Loose pages covered in notes sprawled across the wide desk were tossed about by the breeze until someone pulled the half-open window shut, forcing the wind to retreat in frustration.

The curtains were drawn, scattering fragments of sunlight across the floor beside the bed.

"Master?"

An elderly man stood quietly by the bedside, his voice calm and measured.

After a moment, a muscular arm emerged from beneath the sheets. A bare-chested young man rubbed his eyes and slowly sat up.

He stood well over six feet tall, his frame solid and powerfully built, "Hm? Alfred..."

The old butler dressed in a simple suit set the tray he was carrying onto the desk, "You're injured again? Here's your breakfast."

As he spoke, he pulled open the wardrobe beside the bed and selected a black suit with practiced ease.

The young man frowned slightly, massaging the bruises on his shoulder as he thanked the butler and took the offered clothes.

However, the elderly man retrieved an unfamiliar tubular device from his coat and began carefully scanning the bruises on the young man's shoulders and back.

All of this would have seemed bizarre in the year 1938, but neither the young man nor the old butler batted an eye, as if this were routine...

Bruce (or rather, Bruce Li now) sat on the bed clutching the suit as his gaze fixed absently on the window across from him. His thoughts were elsewhere.

Ten years. A full decade had passed since that strange orb of light had struck him and sent him to this world.

Even now, he remembered the shock and absurdity he felt upon arriving in this world (a man who had already given up on life) only to be presented with what the orb called a 'gift'.

[Hybrid Growth Template Generated...]

[Template One: Batman]

[Template Two: Unknown...]

[Tutorial implanted... Current primary world data backed up...]

[Auxiliary system initializing…]

[Dream Engine energy insufficient!]

[Entering hibernation mode...]

In the darkness, the orb that called itself the 'Dream Engine' left only these fragmented words before vanishing into Bruce's body.

Lost and confused, Bruce had no choice but to follow an old man who emerged from a projected virtual door (a man who introduced himself as the 'Auxiliary System') into this unfamiliar world.

Though the orb never reappeared, a peculiar 'space' had taken root in his mind...

Every night since, he had been forcibly pulled into this space where a silent figure drilled him in martial arts and basic firearms training during sleep.

Whether by fortune or misfortune, Bruce's age had regressed by ten years upon arriving in this world, reverting him to his ten-year-old self.

Growing up again, adapting, attending school, meeting people from foreign lands, experiencing new cultures, and enduring what could only be called torturous training every night.

Thus, Bruce's ten years passed... full yet uneventful...

And this 'Auxiliary System' with the face of an old man had now become something like a true guardian to Bruce... this 'Auxiliary System' which was so full of humanity had treated him with the same patience and warmth that Alfred Pennyworth showed Batman...

At the very least, he had given this orphan a semblance of 'family' once more...

So Bruce had grown accustomed to calling him 'Alfred'... Not only because he had inherited the growth template of the 'Dark Knight', but because Bruce was also grateful...

After finishing his scan, Alfred stowed the tubular device and spoke gently, "The injuries aren't severe. With your regenerative abilities, they should heal completely in a day or two, Master."

Bruce rubbed his head and smiled, "Thanks."

He was already used to the pain and to the strange ability within his body that accelerated healing.

Alfred took a step back, checked his wristwatch, and continued, "It's getting late, Master. Sarah's funeral is at ten. It's eight now... you should start preparing."

Bruce's expression froze. His relaxed brow slowly furrowed again, and his fingers tightened around the suit in his arms, betraying his darkening mood.

"I... I know. I remember, Alf." He said.

Alfred studied him for a moment but said nothing further. He turned quietly and headed for the door, pausing just before he left.

When Bruce didn't hear Alfred's footsteps descending the stairs, he asked absently, "Hm? Something else, Alf?"

Alfred finally spoke, "Don't grieve too much, Master. Life and death are natural. There was nothing any of us could have done for Sarah."

Bruce ran a hand over the black suit and sighed, "I know. It's just... I just... I wanted to save her. We can cure tuberculosis. In the future–"

Alfred interjected, "In the 21st century, Yes... But now, it's incurable."

*Beep!*

A car horn sounded outside...

Alfred checked his watch again, "That must be Old Barnes and his family. You need to hurry, Master." With that, Alfred left.

Bruce sat still for a moment longer before finally putting on the dark suit, freshening up in the upstairs bathroom, and then grabbed a glass of milk and a sandwich before heading downstairs...

...

A tall young man with slicked-back hair and a dark suit stood at the door. His features bore distinct Eastern European traits, handsome and strong.

He raised a fist, "Hey Bruce."

"Hey Bucky." Bruce bumped fists with him, then quickly finished his sandwich and milk.

"We stopped by Steve's place first, but he wasn't home." The young man called 'Bucky' looked haggard, his face lined with worry as he rubbed his forehead.

Bruce paused mid-wipe, "Steve's not home?"

"No. We looked around the neighborhood, but we couldn't find him..."

Frowning, Bruce strode out the door and called back to Alfred, "Alf, you go ahead to the cemetery. Bucky and I will find Steve. We'll meet you there."

Outside, a car idled by the curb. A broad-shouldered man with features resembling Bucky's leaned out the window, concern etched on his face, "Bruce–"

"Don't worry, Old Barnes. We'll find Steve. You go ahead." With that, Bruce shot Bucky a look, and the two broke into a jog toward the direction he had in mind.

---

Twenty minutes later, Bruce led a panting Bucky to a secluded lakeside in a small park.

"Bruce, how... how did you know Steve would be here?"

Bruce scanned the area, then answered uncertainly, "I wasn't sure. But... this is where Sarah used to bring Steve and me when we were kids."

His eyes suddenly brightened as he moved toward a thicket nearly swallowed by undergrowth.

Bucky, still catching his breath, watched in confusion, all he saw was a tangle of bushes...

But Bruce saw something else: a small, thin figure curled up among the branches, hiding.

"We've been looking everywhere for you, Steve. Good thing Bruce knew where you'd be." Bucky kept his voice low as they walked behind the silent, withdrawn young man ahead of them.

A sigh came from the small figure. "Why do you always find me, Bruce? I just... wanted to be alone for a while..."

Bruce studied the stubborn back of his longtime friend and shrugged, forcing a lighter tone, "Because you always pick the worst hiding spots. Saw you right away."

Bucky scratched his head, suddenly doubting his own eyesight, 'Was it really that obvious?'

"My parents wanted to drive you to the cemetery, Steve. Or you could ride with Alfred and Bruce–"

"I know Bucky, Bruce... I'm sorry. I just... wanted to go alone." Steve said.

Bucky hesitated before changing the subject, "How was the funeral?"

"It was fine. Mom... she's with dad now..."

Seeing Bucky flounder, Bruce stepped in, "Hey Steve–"

"I know what you're going to say Bruce... Bucky..." Steve's voice was distant as he absently patted his coat pockets. His already weary face grew more troubled.

They reached the second floor.

Bucky instinctively took a step back and scanned the floor until he spotted a familiar key.

He picked it up and held it out to Steve who was growing increasingly frantic, "Guess today it's my turn to find your key. Here."

Bruce chuckled softly at Bucky's teasing...

Steve managed a faint smile as he took the key, some of the gloom lifting, "Thanks Bucky, Bruce. But I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

Bruce watched his friend's stubbornness and suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

In a way, he had been unlucky, yet also lucky.

He never knew his birth parents. But because of that, he never had to suffer the pain of being separated from them across worlds.

But Steve... losing both parents, one after the other. If it were him, how would he bear it? To be left alone in this world, without family...

Lost in thought, Bruce glanced at Steve, and the loneliness in his eyes struck him like a knife.

"You don't have to go through this alone, Steve." Bucky suddenly reached out, gripping Steve's shoulder the way he always did when the three of them roughhoused.

Following his lead, Bruce placed a hand on Steve's other shoulder and spoke slowly but firmly, "We'll stay with you till the end, pal."

Steve stared at them blinking. The sorrow in his eyes softened... He lowered his head, and then finally, just like old times, he gave a small, genuine smile:

"Thanks Bruce, Bucky..."