"Exactly — your instincts are as sharp as ever. Please come with me immediately. I cannot share a timeline with my past self."
The elderly Booster Gold's voice was urgent, almost desperate.
Thea processed the situation in an instant. This man knew her in the future — and by the look of it, they were on fairly good terms.
She thought for a moment. "I can't step into the timestream freely. If I bring my divine authority along, the whole universe goes haywire. I can only send a projection."
"Please hurry — I won't last more than a few seconds!"
No more words needed. Rippling like heat off pavement, a projection stepped out of Thea's body — carrying none of her New God power, only half her magical reserves.
Booster Gold pulled a two-meter sphere from his belt. He dove in, and in under a second, his form had already begun to blur at the edges.
Thea's projection slipped in right behind him. Booster activated the controls. The sphere erupted with incomprehensible energy, punching straight through time itself — and vanished from the roadside.
Sensing that the link between herself and her projection remained unbroken, Thea exhaled and turned for home.
Her projection and the future Booster Gold began the great mission of tracking down one wayward Bruce Wayne — lost somewhere in time.
Even with a Booster Gold from even further in the future offering his help, the search yielded nothing. An uncountable number of timeline junctions spread before them like an impenetrable web, silently mocking their efforts. Batman could be anywhere across thousands of time periods. Finding him was like searching for a single grain of sand in the ocean.
Three days later, Thea knew she couldn't keep this from everyone. She chose selectively — and told the Justice League members what had happened.
"Batman coming back would destroy the world?" Hal Jordan, Green Lantern, asked, disbelief written across his face.
Thea rubbed her temples. Sending a projection into the timestream still took a toll on her body. Her mental reserves, already at less than half, had been draining steadily since.
"That's what Highfather told me. I trust his word."
Silence fell over the room.
The same question hung in the air for everyone: sacrifice a friend, or sacrifice the world? Several of the heroes stared at the floor. Bruce could be insufferable on his best day, but the idea of him simply being gone — it sat wrong with all of them.
There wasn't much anyone could do. Barry offered to help, and Thea immediately pulled him back. You stay home and worry about your wedding, please — the last thing I need is you making this worse.
Time moved relentlessly. Thirty days passed.
The deeper consequences of Batman's disappearance had yet to fully surface, but the immediate effects were already visible: the criminals of Gotham, who had lived in fear of the Bat, were crawling back out of the dark.
Penguin, Scarecrow, Two-Face — Batman's oldest enemies had sharp instincts. No one had to tell them. They could feel it. Batman was gone. Dead? Maybe. But what mattered was that Gotham's sky had changed.
At first, they sent foot soldiers to test the waters. When they found only Batman's lieutenants answering the call — and that familiar dark silhouette never appeared — the criminals began to celebrate. Gotham's nights became theirs again.
The new police commissioner was in over his head. The notice Thea had filed through city hall stated that Captain Bruce Wayne was ill. The incoming commissioner had barely settled into his office before inheriting this mess. The misery was hard to overstate.
The Justice League offered support. Nightwing — Dick Grayson, who had returned to Gotham to hold things together — refused.
Wayne Manor burned bright. But the person sitting at the head of the table was no longer who it used to be.
"Master Drake, please eat something." Alfred set a plate in front of the third Robin, but Tim's mind was elsewhere. He gave the old butler a distracted wave, his eyes bloodshot as he pored over the Wayne family history, scribbling notes in the margins.
Ten minutes passed. He finally rubbed his eyes. "Thea was right. Bruce did alter some history. This record doesn't match what I remember — there are bat symbols scattered throughout, pointing us toward where to look."
"Batman is alive," Tim Drake murmured, as much to himself as anyone else. "He's still out there, waiting for us to find him."
Alfred exhaled slowly. He had watched Bruce Wayne grow into the man he became — his grief ran deeper than any of the Robins'. But unlike the younger ones, he didn't rush. Through conversations with Superman, Barbara, Diana, and others close to Thea, he had pieced together the truth.
If Bruce came back, the universe would detonate.
He didn't know how accurate that assessment was. But he knew Bruce Wayne. That man would carry this knowledge like armor. Even a ten percent chance of catastrophe would be enough to keep him away — which meant, in every way that mattered, Batman was already gone.
A month of anguish. Many had quietly come to terms with it — the criminals of Gotham, and some of the Bat-family themselves.
Barbara Gordon passed the Batgirl mantle to Cassandra Cain and resumed her role as Oracle. She pulled Huntress and Tommy — who had come from Star City — and Laurel Lance together, rebuilding the Birds of Prey. She was protecting Gotham in her own way, honoring Bruce's last wish.
And Dick Grayson had come back. He refused the Justice League's offer of reinforcements, shouldered the weight under his Nightwing name, and with the rest of the team, was out fighting criminals day after day, leaving early and returning late into the night.
The only one who hadn't given up was Tim Drake. He still believed they could bring Batman home.
Alfred couldn't bring himself to tell Tim the full truth. He simply stayed by his side.
Later that night, the manor's hidden door swung open and Nightwing emerged with Damian, both in civilian clothes. Dick was still fuming. "Jason went too far. He's tearing down everything Bruce stood for — next time I catch him, I will bring him in."
With his father gone, Damian had retreated back into the cold, closed-off version of himself the team remembered from years ago. He greeted them with a curt nod and went straight to bed.
"Tim." Nightwing stood beside him, choosing his words carefully. "I need your help. Damian's getting more violent by the day. I don't want him turning into another Jason Todd."
"Have you all just given up?" Tim's voice was hoarse. "You're just going to leave Bruce behind?"
Dick paused. "You don't understand what's at stake. We had to make a choice."
"I know what choice you made." Tim closed the book and stood. "I'll find another way."
After the door shut behind him, Dick poured himself a drink and swallowed it in one go. God, I'm tired.
One original Robin. One murderous second Robin. And a third Robin who had just walked out. Bruce's eye for finding people with iron will was unquestionable — every single one of them was a force of nature who refused to be told what to do.