This is a story based on a reality birthed from Dr. Fate's dreams. Within this dreamed cosmos, witness the journeys of a new Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent as they travel paths very different from those you know and have read of time and time again.
Wi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The tiresome drive was behind them and finally, they were at their destination, their safe haven( It was around 3 in the morning).
The Falcone estate:
Carmine parked the car right in front of the large bungalow. the engine was still running , his friend was still belted to his seat when he, holding Bruce, ran up the front stairs and shouldered the door open. They were finally safe. Here, unlike the Wayne property, was always heavily guarded, even more so than the Gotham mint.
After he had entrusted young Bruce to Miss Elsie (Who then examined him with a look of disappointment), the first maid who came running hearing the ruckus. Carmine then bolted upstairs, then straight into his bedroom.
His nerves were ringing, so he had a couple of drinks to pacify himself, but he still wasn't ready to reach back in memory and connect his present with what had just happened.
He had downed a few more when morning light came and all hopes of sleep were finally abandoned.
Sal came up to his room a while later with an invitation to his father's work-den. At this very day, Carmine had turned twenty, (the stray gaze that fell upon the hitherto meticulously marked calendar had reminded him) yet, the thought of celebration was the last thing on his mind.
His best friend was murdered just a few hours ago, right before his eyes. The way he avenged him, what felt righteous at the time, the killing of the killer, now lingered on his palms as a shiver of guilt.
His hands shivered so badly it was as if they wanted to say "Nevermore will we obey."
Carmine had made just one more drink before heading off to meet his father, Don Falcone. He downed it, combed his hair with his sweaty palms and was off.
Now, It seemed as though he had a few too many. He couldn't feel his legs, and felt as though they were carrying him while he himself applied no effort. Carmine stood in front of that room he had never been allowed to enter. He rammed at the double-door, palms spread and with all his might, but it only made a loud thud. Before he had given it another push, the double doors burst outward, startling him.
"My God...you look like hell. Come in here n' have a seat," said Vincent Falcone, his father.
With all his effort, Carmine managed a steady course to the row of 3 chairs neatly kept facing his father's desk. He settled in with difficulty on the one in the middle, attempting to be a bit sober with willpower. "SLAUGHTER AT WAYNE MANOR," he read (Alongside Kent Nelson) off the front page of The Gotham Gazette resting atop the heavy pink ivory desk in front of him while sitting arch-backed, restless and half-present.
