The Future Doomsday

Jorno Jovanna, get it? I finally found the Jo in Jorno and with that, "JoJo" is born.

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The living room of Wayne Manor was as grand as the rest of the estate—opulent in design, with high ceilings, lavish furnishings, and an air of sophistication that contrasted sharply with the dark thoughts occupying Bruce Wayne's mind.

He sat in a leather chair across from Jorno, the boy's thin frame perched on the edge of a couch, surrounded by a world far removed from the streets he had known. On the surface, it was an ordinary tutoring session. But to Bruce, it was much more than that.

"No, not exactly," Bruce explained, his tone calm but focused. "Air itself has no mass, but the gases it carries give it weight." He observed Jorno, who dutifully scribbled notes in his notebook, his brow furrowed in concentration.

It had been nine days since Bruce had taken Jorno in, and the boy had yet to truly open up to him. That wasn't unexpected. Trust took time, especially for a child like Jorno—someone who had learned early on to keep walls around his heart. But what continued to gnaw at Bruce wasn't just Jorno's silence; it was that Jorno didn't exist. He hadn't registered in any known records—no birth certificate, no hospital records, no school enrollment. A ghost, like so many children in Gotham, born from the shadows of the city's darkest corners.

Most kids in Gotham either came from brothels or were the result of unrecorded, tragic nights, their births unsanctioned by any hospital. Bruce knew this too well. Another invisible life, discarded and forgotten—yet Jorno wasn't like the others. His abilities, still only partially understood, set him apart.

"Air can be felt when it moves quickly," Bruce continued, pulling himself back to the lesson. "And though it seems intangible, it can be compressed." He watched as Jorno hurriedly wrote down the information, his mind working fast. The kid had potential—Bruce couldn't deny that.

But was taking on a child the best option here?

The thought weighed heavily on Bruce's mind. He knew why he had brought Jorno into his home. And it wasn't just out of charity. He needed him. It was shameful, dark even, to think of a child—especially one as young and broken as Jorno—as a weapon. But Bruce had learned long ago that he couldn't afford the luxury of idealism. Not when the world was on the brink of something far worse.

His mind drifted, not for the first time, to the journal he had found months ago. Lex Luthor's journal—a cryptic, terrifying document filled with references to a "burning planet" and an apocalypse that was coming. And then there were Lex's last words before being sent to prison:

"Ding dong, God is dead."

It was a sick joke about Superman, who had died a year ago, leaving Earth vulnerable. And now, the threat Luthor had warned about—the aliens who would come to finish what Doomsday had started—was looming. Bruce had dubbed them simply The Enemy, a force far beyond anything he or the world could handle alone. The Apokolips were coming. And for once, Batman was outmatched.

No tech, no gadget, no amount of training could prepare him for an entire planet of hostile invaders. He needed help. And as much as it twisted his conscience, he knew Jorno might be part of that help.

"Mr. Wayne?" Jorno's tentative voice snapped Bruce out of his thoughts.

Bruce blinked, refocusing on the boy. "Ah, sorry," he muttered. "Compressed air… When compressed, it becomes more flammable. Which is why it's never to be used indoors."

Jorno nodded, scribbling the last of the notes down before glancing up cautiously. The boy's deference was something Bruce couldn't ignore. He called him "sir" instead of using his name, a habit that suggested Jorno had been raised—or more likely, trained—to be polite, maybe even out of fear.

Is he afraid of me? Bruce wondered. Or was it something else?

"Treat this place as your own," Bruce added after a pause. "You don't need to hold back. Eat freely, move freely." But the words felt hollow, and both he and Jorno knew it. Trust—that was the real issue. And trust was not so easily earned.

Later in the Batcave

A few hours later, after their study session had ended and Jorno had gone to bed, Bruce descended into the Batcave. The darkness here felt more familiar—safer, even. Alfred was waiting, his face lit by the glow of the monitors as Bruce approached.

"You see?" Alfred said, a rare glimmer of excitement in his voice. "I told you, Master Bruce. You've bonded with him. It's not so difficult after all."

Bruce gave a noncommittal grunt, removing his gloves as he approached the workstation. Bonding? That wasn't how Bruce would describe it. Jorno was still an enigma, and more importantly, a necessary piece in a much larger puzzle. The time for bonding would come later—if at all.

"Enough of that," Bruce muttered. "You've found him?"

Alfred, ever the professional, handed Bruce a file. "Yes, sir. We've tracked him down."

Bruce opened the file, scanning the name at the top. Victor Stone.

A flicker of recognition crossed his face. Victor Stone—the man who had become a Cyborg after a tragic accident. Bruce had been looking for him, knowing that Victor's connection to Apokolips technology could be the key to understanding the greater threat.

"Good," Bruce said quietly. "We'll need him. And soon."

Alfred, sensing the gravity of the situation, studied Bruce carefully. "Master Bruce," he began cautiously, "I know you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. But Jorno... he's still just a child. Don't think of him as a mere tool in this fight. That would be unfair."

Bruce didn't respond right away, his eyes still focused on the monitor, but Alfred's words echoed in the back of his mind. He knew Alfred was right—Jorno wasn't just another weapon to wield. But the war coming to Earth would require every advantage they could muster. And if Jorno could help them survive, Bruce would have no choice but to use him.

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[Auther: I'm not sugarcoating stuff here,that's why this novel is 18+]