Issue #20: Portality

There are few things a metahuman can enjoy with their powers and fewer more if their secret identity is checkered at best. As such, it was, is, and will be integral for a promising young man such as myself to enjoy the sanctity and privateness of the cavern I currently am.

"Fuck yeah!" I shout in excitement as the watermelon is split into half the moment it passes through the Katana Dick holds.

Ever since Dick found me in the cave, it had been a tradition of ours to destroy a few rotting fruits through teleportation. We've tried dropping them into a pit of acid, rolling them under a giant nickel, and, with the consent of Alfred, we used Mad Hatter's incendiary card to throw at a stationary cantaloupe.

If not for Dick's tendency to shout like a frat boy, I bet Bruce would have let us use Mr. Freeze's old Ice Gun or, hell, just a plain old gun is good enough.

Dick's very own watch suddenly beeps, annoying the kid as he blows raspberries. "Oh, man. I gotta go. Bruce is taking me to a party!"

"That's cool. Take care." I say before I eye a metal pole with a spiked end resting on a weapon rack. "Wait. Watch this first."

I grab a large pear and chuck it at the main portal before it falls down the secondary portal and spears itself upon the spike with its velocity.

Our fervor and glee at doing something so dumb causes the portals to fizzle slightly, reminding me of how shallow my control and understanding of its mechanism truly is.

I snap my fingers and close the portals, having been taught by Bruce that using a mnemonic device to control the activation of my powers would help me in the beginner stages. He was right, of course, but I don't think that guy needs external validation. He probably already figured out I'm grateful to him.

"Hey, Dick." I call out to him as he pats the dust off his shirt. "What happened to Samantha?"

"Farris? She quit her job, man. First thing she did." Dick chuckles. "Leaked a few hundred documents of Windcell Labs. Embezzlement, bribery, buying land in Puerto Rico to dump chemicals, and ordering hits on whistleblowers. It was wild, man."

"And where is she?" Worry creeps into my voice and, given that I risked my life for her, it's predictable that I would worry that she will get herself killed again.

Dick shrugs his shoulders as he replies, "Somewhere in Canada, I think. Bruce set her up with a new identity. She'll have to come back, though, because he's going to be a material witness in the case."

"Hope she survives it." I mutter as I walk towards the highly elaborate camera system Bruce has set-up to track my energy output and the portal's intake.

"See you, Edmund." I wave absentmindedly, munching on my snacks while I press the device to review the tapes and read the energy level read-outs.

The machinery simplifies and codifies the arbitrary energy costs of active portals, or portals that are open and can be used to pass through objects or entities. 

The activation and maintenance of the primary portal costs about seven-to-eleven percent of my total energy per ten seconds. No matter how fast I close it or how short the portal is activated, so long as it is activated, then my energy is spent.

And from what I'm reading, the energy going out of me does not correspond to the energy being emitted by the portals, which means that I need to control my output and input. Not only will it reduce the costs of initial and subsequent activation, maintaining the portal would also be easier and significantly reduce that fluctuation that keeps happening whenever I do something awesome with my powers.

"Oh, my god. Is this what being smart feels like?" I shudder at my greatness, not at all contemplative at how arrogant I had become.

The rest of my day continues on like this one. Generating portals, experimenting with distance and energy, reading and reviewing what I did, figuring out anything that I did wrong, and going to and from the kitchen so that I could refill my snacks and drink continues on until the soft silvery warmth of the moonlight bathes me in its aura.

I don't even notice that the time had passed me by until Alfred calls upon me because my ride is here and waiting. I look down upon the masterpiece I have written on my notepad and am immediately in awe.

…

Portal Generation Breakdown:

•••

Primary/Main Portal:..

Initial Creation (Black Line):...

Maintenance (Black Line):... 

Initial Widening (Active Eye): 4% with a standard deviation of ±2-3%. Further and more in-depth analysis is required. Too dependent on energy control.

Maintenance (Active Eye): 5% with a standard deviation of ±2% per 75 to 131 seconds.

•••

Secondary/Second Portal:...

Initial Creation (Black Line):...

Maintenance (Black Line):...

Initial Widening (Active Eye): 5% with a standard deviation of ±3-5%. Main portal calculations included in.

Maintenance (Active Eye): 5% with a standard deviation of ±1% per 52 to 74 minutes.

Other Remarks: Name superpower ASAP. Tell Dick to wear deodorant after practice. Include a way to rapidly re-designate and lock secondary portal for maximum fun. Name moves and invent special moves. Determine if closing a portal on flesh could burn/cauterize or slice it.

•••

I close what happens to be two weeks of straight experimentation on my newfound powers and begin cleaning my mess with an exasperated sigh. Silently cursing past myself for having too much fun.

Sweat has dampened my shirt as I clean up the various fruits and vegetables that littered the area of the manor. It Took me half an hour to bag the trash and move the device inside of the manor that, by the time I finished, my driver was sitting and conversing with Alfred amidst a sea of tea and cookies.

It's actually the same guy we had as a bodyguard for our trip at Gotham Fair. I was wondering where he went during that accident.

'What's his name again? Max… Mark? Damnit, I forgot.'

"Enjoying yourself?" I remark with a light chuckle. "Grab what you can and meet me in the car. Sir Alfred, thank you for your hospitality."

Alfred nods and says, "It's a pity you missed Master Bruce and Young Master Richard before they went to the gala."

"Still grounded, I'm afraid." I reply with a shrug of my shoulders. "Though I don't think I'll like it there. Training my abilities goes first. C'mon… you, let's go home."

The driver–Ryan?–takes out a lunch box and puts half of the left-over cookies on it before nodding his head and running towards the entrance. I follow soon after, accompanied by Alfred, as we discuss the current news regarding the serial-killing vigilante, Reaper.

"How many have been killed?" I ask.

Alfred breathes out, "I'm afraid far too much, young master Edmund. That's actually why Master Bruce is attending the gala right now. The mayor is about to announce a task force to capture the Reaper and, believe it or not, Batman."

An understandable decision from the mayor. From a political perspective, calming down the already scared citizens of Gotham would prevent riots and further unrest, increase his trustworthiness with his constituents, and boost his ratings in the next re-election year, which is two years from now. Including Batman, however, despite being the next logical step because of his unsanctioned crusade, is the mayor's biggest mistake.

That will just help the Reaper be more effective in his deadly crusade against criminals. Dividing the already incompetent GCPD between getting Batman or the Reaper will result in more people getting killed.

"He was, like, the killer version of Batman, right? Like, 20 years ago?" I ask Alfred as he was apparently working for Thomas Wayne during that era.

Alfred nods. "Basically. Master Thomas was quite adamant about his capture, but his crusade went on for almost two years. Fortunately for us, The Green Lantern came out of retirement and tried to capture him. Unfortunately, the Reaper was only heavily wounded before leaving Gotham for good."

"Until a few weeks ago." I mutter with a gleam in my eye. I turn towards Alfred, "Please tell Mr. Wayne to be careful in his travel–"

The sounds of glass breaking startles me. My arms immediately rise up to my chest and so does my guard, ears tingling to pinpoint where the sound came from.

"Kitchen." Alfred answers my unheard question.

I stick my back to the wall, nodding to Alfred as we glide silently towards the kitchen. Alfred diverts for a moment, leaving me alone as I traverse the halls before returning with a shotgun.

The smile on my face widens as he allows me my weapon, a fire poker and a butter knife. I notice the door to the kitchen is ajar, and I can hear muted, panicking noises coming from inside. Then, I hear a series of cluttering sounds made of metal and plastic.

I count down silently, setting the fire poker beside me while I was ready to throw my butter knife.

'3…2…1…'

"...Say hello to my little friend!" I shout as I shoulder open the door with a BANG! and throw the butter knife.

A black appears a meter away from me before opening up into a inky black void of an eye which the knife passes through like a hot knife on melted butter. A secondary portal opens up atop the head of the largest target–who is wearing an all-black outfit and cape–from which the butter knife emerges as it increases in velocity and tries to hit the unknowing Batman–

'–Wait, Batman?'

Batman lets the blade ricochets off his cowl and drop to the ground without much fanfare. He sighs, looking at me with a mixture of disappointment, approval, embarrassment, and frustration; and does it well enough to convey it even with a bloodied mouth and broken front cowl.

"Master Bruce!" Alfred rushes in and immediately goes to work, taking over for a clearly exhausted Robin.

Dick is still wearing his suit and tie whilst having a bandana around his face, a faux mask which he takes off when Alfred takes over for him. Chest heaving from the sheer exhaustion and panic, he crumples down to the floor and continues to wipe the sweat off his face.

I draw near him with a glass of cold water and place it in his hands. "Just breathe, man. Are you ok? Hurt anywhere?"

"I'm good," He huffs and puffs before downing the glass in one go, "Just had to carry Bruce for a mile."

I pat him on the back and slowly rub his stiff shoulders, placating his crazily beating heart before I hear Alfred groaning along with Batman.

"We'll be going downstairs," He says, placing Batman's arm around his shoulder and dragging him towards the door. "Young master Edmund, your driver is waiting for you and don't worry, we'll call you once we're settled here. In the meantime, your curfew is nearly up."

"I can call mother–"

"No." Batman says a little too loud, coughing up spurts of blood.

I did not argue further, knowing that they will only be resting and patching up the wounds on Bruce's body. If there is any information that I could get, I would get it on Monday.

With a sigh, I stand up and give Dick a pat on the shoulder. "Stay safe, guys."

I exit the manor and enter the car, thoughts swirling as I focus on the large gaping wound on Batman's chest. I reckon that the caped crusader will be out of order for a little while, which would only strengthen the Reaper's position within Gotham's citizens and criminality.

"Are we ready to go, sir?" The driver–Daniel?–asks with a mouth filled with crumbs.

"Take me home, please."

•••

It was supposed to be a safe event. In and out after an hour or two of mingling with politicians and socialites to cement my position as Wayne Industries hedonistic CEO, but also give a certain depth to my character as a generous and philanthropic soul, one who is able to empathize to an orphan of misfortune and gruesomeness.

This was also the venue to introduce Richard as my adopted child and, hopefully, give him leeway into creating his own separate identity during his tenure as this city's guardian.

'What a fool I was.'

I slump back down into the leather chair, hissing at the gaping, pulsating, undulating wounds the Reaper gave me. Blinking away the blur in my eyes to no avail, I slowly, but methodically, remove my pierced-through armor and fractured cowl.

I had been mere moments away from death as the Reaper pulled that gun on me and shot me in the head. Had it not been for Richard emerging from the shadows and allowing me to gain an upper hand in the fight, I would not have been able to escape without gaining another wound.

"Can you breathe, Master Bruce?" Alfred asks me as he pushes the cart full of medical paraphernalia.

I shake my head no. I can feel my airways collapsing in on itself due to the swelling in my chest muscles and the protrusion from my heavily broken ribs. Observing him work to gather enough anesthesia to dull my pain through my drug resistance, I control what part of my lungs that I could to save the last of my breaths.

I could still see Richard looking at me while the Reaper buried his scythe in my thighs. The pain in his eyes, the urge to mow down everyone who stood in his way and protect me.

'Maybe Superman was right… a team-up once in a while wouldn't hurt anyone.'

My chuckles surprises Alfred, who pushes back the cart and places ECG nodes into my chest before opening up a bottle of extra strong adhesives for my large wounds.

I see Richard in the corners of my blurry eyes, gazing at me with clenched fists. I'd like to apologize to him for failing him, for letting him see me like this.

I was supposed to be something he needed to aspire to be, a stepping stone to become a better person. Yet, here I am, being taken care of by a 70-year-old father figure who took care of me when I was but a child. 

A child who feared the darkness. A child who feared the bat that flitted past the manor, living along the edges of civilization and wilderness.

'Here I am, the same child in the care of my father…'

I pretend not to see the tears in his eyes, just like he pretends not to see the pain in mine whenever I come home full of wounds.

I pretend not to hear his heart break and he pretends not to hear my exhaustion whenever he brings me a cup of tea.

'It's the little things in life, huh?'

I slow down the beating of my heart, no longer needing the adrenaline it comes with, and give one last sigh before I welcome the darkness that I loathe.

"Wake me up when you're done… Alfred."