Broken(DC)

The house that had become my home welcomed me in a new guise. The old, faded structure had transformed with a fresh exterior finish of beautiful white boards arranged in a herringbone pattern. This gave the house a renewed appearance, even though the roof remained unchanged.

Inside, the house had also undergone changes. New wallpaper and flooring created a completely different atmosphere. I was pleasantly surprised by my room, where the old parquet had been replaced with high-quality laminate, and the walls were painted in a soothing shade of blue. The bed was entirely new, and the room now had more furniture: a new desk and a spacious wardrobe.

I couldn't help but notice that Elizabeth had finally begun treating me better.

My plans for the future now revolved around recovering from the coma and catching up on the material I'd missed in the third and fourth grades. Starting in September, I would be able to return to school and join the fifth grade—provided, of course, that I passed all the necessary exams.

Thanks to proper nutrition, I quickly regained my previous weight—and even surpassed it. During my time in the coma, my body had continued to grow, and for my age, I now required more mass. I resumed physical activity just two days after waking up, and this had a positive impact on my health. My muscles began to grow visibly, restoring their previous size, and my strength increased significantly. I realized this when I tried lifting a heavy armchair in the living room—something that used to be far too difficult for me. Though I could only lift it briefly and with great effort, I still managed it.

My throwing skills remained intact. I still hit targets with unerring accuracy, despite doctors warning me that people often lose some abilities after a coma and need to relearn them from scratch. Apparently, that wouldn't be the case for me. I didn't feel handicapped; my memory was sharp, and I remembered everything clearly. I hadn't forgotten how to cook or throw. It seemed the coma had only affected my physical condition.

I also hadn't forgotten the celebration I'd dreamed of holding in honor of my mother's birthday. I prepared a variety of treats, from cakes to simple cookies. It was such a joy to bask in the warmth of family and good food, as if it were the first time in ages.

Looking around, I felt as though I were recalling events from a distant past, including my interactions with Alice and Elizabeth. Despite my remarkable recovery, my body's weakness remained a vulnerability—a self-destructive mechanism ready to harm itself just to heal. I spent a long time pondering how to overcome this, but the only feasible solution I could think of involved concentrated supplements.

Essentially, these would be high-calorie bars packed with vitamins to replenish the body's resources. However, this was only a partial solution, as many factors could undermine its effectiveness. For example, I might forget to make or carry them, or I might be unable to eat them during a fight. If my mouth were injured, I wouldn't be able to consume them at all. I needed more advanced knowledge of the human body to find a better solution.

It seems I'll have to enroll in a medical university someday, where I can learn more about my body. In the meantime, I need to focus on improving my skills. Hopefully, this year I'll be accepted into a hand-to-hand combat club, allowing me to continue progressing.

The week flew by, and now I'm scheduled for a follow-up examination to check on my recovery. The appointment is at 3 PM with the same doctor who treated me before. My mother had to leave work early to take me there.

"Time to go, Brian," Elizabeth called from the kitchen while I was sitting in my room studying the material I'd missed.

I quickly closed all my notebooks and textbooks. Although the internet and computers were becoming increasingly popular and made it possible to search for information without leaving home, we didn't have such a device yet, so I continued learning the old-fashioned way.

After quickly changing into casual clothes, I headed downstairs. Elizabeth was already waiting by the door. Without further delay, I put on my shoes, ran outside, and got into the car with her.

Gotham had changed significantly while I was asleep. Many buildings had been replaced with new ones, and impressive skyscrapers now dominated the skyline. The Wayne Enterprises tower stood out the most—an enormous structure reaching toward the heavens. Its broad windows spanned its entire façade, with the company's massive logo displayed prominently in the center. How did they manage to construct such a magnificent building so quickly? This skyscraper belongs to Bruce. I wonder if he's ever been to the top floor. The view of Gotham from there must be breathtaking.

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I had tried calling Bruce, but Alfred always picked up, explaining that my friend was busy. He kept saying Bruce was tied up with work and wasn't home. What could he be so preoccupied with that he hasn't been home for weeks? Are we even still friends after all these years? Maybe he's forgotten about me. Although I've heard he visited me often while I was in a coma. I hope he'll have some free time soon so we can meet again.

Lost in thought, I didn't notice when we arrived. After parking, we headed to the reception desk. Once we confirmed the time and the doctor we were there to see, we were directed to the appropriate room.

There was no one waiting outside the office. After knocking, we were given permission to enter.

The office was spacious, equipped with a patient bed, a scale, and various medical instruments. Behind the desk sat the doctor who had treated me previously.

"Oh, young Brian! Come in, have a seat," the doctor greeted us warmly. We sat down across from him. "So, tell me, have you experienced any pain or problems since your recovery?"

I hadn't noticed any issues with my health. Everything I'd lost had almost fully recovered, and I hadn't encountered any other problems.

"No, everything's fine. I've completely recovered," I replied confidently.

"That's good, but we still need to check, so let me examine you," the doctor said, draping his stethoscope around his neck.

The examination began. First, he conducted a visual inspection to ensure everything appeared normal. Then he listened to my heart and lungs, performing various other checks and measurements.

"Well, I can confidently say you've made a full recovery, though I can't say I'm surprised," the doctor remarked, setting aside the folder containing my test results.

"Why is that not surprising?" Elizabeth asked, standing nearby. Was the doctor about to reveal something about my regeneration?

"Oh, nothing of the sort. Brian's a young, growing boy—full of energy and vitality," the doctor replied with a smile. Phew. It was a relief that he didn't mention anything about my abilities. I didn't want Mom to find out about them.

"I see. So, does this mean we don't need to visit the hospital anymore?" my mom asked.

"Well, according to the standard protocol, follow-up visits are recommended, but in Brian's case, they're unnecessary. I'll leave you be," the doctor said, jotting down notes in his folder before stamping it. "You're free to go."

"Thank you, doctor. Goodbye," Elizabeth said as she got up and headed for the door.

"Goodbye. Thank you for everything," I added as I followed her out.

"And all the best to you," the doctor replied warmly.

We left the office and walked down the corridor. On the way, I noticed a peculiar man. He had a beard streaked with gray, indicating his age, and was dressed in a suit that looked fashionable back in the 1940s. He carried himself with a straight posture and walked with a confident stride.

There was an air of something unusual about him, and I felt that familiar, nagging sense of warning—an instinct that signaled danger. The closer he got, the sharper the feeling became.

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He turned his gaze directly toward me, and our eyes met. In that moment, I felt an otherworldly presence behind his stare, something that both drew me in and weighed heavily on me. It felt as though a torrent of energy had crashed over me, making it hard to breathe. But just as quickly as it came, the sensation vanished.

The man's face softened into a kind smile, and he gave me a polite nod of greeting before continuing on his way. We passed each other fleetingly. I stood frozen, watching him walk away, the uneasy feeling gradually fading.

"What's wrong, Brian?" Elizabeth's voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality. I turned to look at her.

"Nothing. I just saw... a strange man," I replied.

"What man? You mean the doctor?" she asked.

I frowned, surprised that she hadn't noticed the older man who had passed us. I glanced back down the corridor, but it was empty. Where could he have gone? It didn't make sense.

"No, I just thought I saw someone," I said, trying to brush it off. Were these hallucinations? I hoped it wouldn't happen again. "Let's head home."

"Alright. You promised to make your cheesecake today," Mom reminded me with a smile.

"Yeah, I'll make it," I said, though my mind was still spinning with visions that felt like something out of a dream. I'd have to figure this out later.

We quickly reached the car and started the drive home. Throughout the ride, I was deep in thought, replaying the strange encounter over and over in my head. The unease lingered, gripping me tightly, and didn't let go until we finally arrived back at the house.

Charles McNider's POV (Doctor Mid-Nite)

Brian is an extraordinary boy. In my time, I've encountered countless individuals with unique abilities, but his is unlike anything I've ever seen. At first, I assumed it was simple regeneration, but other facts contradicted that. His body doesn't just heal—it adapts to any condition. Initially, it would repair itself but at the cost of harming itself in the process. However, it seems his body has "realized" the flaw in this approach and adjusted its behavior to a sustainable level.

With every incision, his tissues grew tougher, forcing me to exert more effort during surgery. His bones have similarly become more durable. It appears his entire organism evolves based on environmental demands. The harsher the conditions, the more his body modifies itself to meet the challenge.

From what I've seen in his medical records, Brian was once a cripple, unable to move. Now, he's surpassing the physical limits of others his age. I can't help but wonder what he'll become in the future. I can only hope the good in him will outweigh the bad.

Not long after Brian and his mother left, there was another knock at my door. I wasn't expecting any more patients today. Had they forgotten something and come back with a question?

"Come in," I called out, and the door swung open.

The person who entered was someone I wasn't particularly eager to see. In the past, encounters with him rarely ended on a pleasant note.

"Well, hello, Charles," greeted Kent Nelson—better known as Doctor Fate, the greatest sorcerer on Earth and a Lord of Order. When he shows up, trouble usually follows close behind.

"Hello, Kent," I replied, my tone less than enthusiastic.

"Such a beautiful day, and yet you're in a foul mood. Something troubling you?" he asked, standing before me with his usual calm demeanor.

"You are. Trouble's never far behind when you show up," I muttered.

"Oh, come now. Can't an old friend drop by to check on you?" he said, theatrically spreading his arms.

"No, you never just 'drop by,'" I shot back, firm in my suspicion.

"You wound me, Charles. We've been through so much together," he began, as if to remind me of our shared history.

"Which is exactly why I'm not thrilled by your visit. Too much shared history," I retorted, though deep down, I didn't regret joining the Justice Society back in the day.

"Alright, fair enough. You're right—I didn't come here just to reminisce," Kent admitted, his expression turning serious. His voice carried an otherworldly undertone. "Dark times are coming, and only the strongest heroes will be able to stand against the evil that's approaching."

"You're reforming the Justice Society?" I asked. If the world was in peril, I was more than willing to shake off the dust and return to the fight.

"No, the old heroes won't be enough. We need new blood," he said, contradicting my assumption. Why come to me, then?

"Well, as you can see, I haven't exactly gotten any younger. So, what use am I?" I asked pointedly.

"For the new generation of heroes to surpass the old, they must be armed with the wisdom and experience of those who came before them. And you, Charles, are one of the most seasoned among us," Kent replied.

"I'm willing to pass on my knowledge, but isn't there someone else better suited for this role? I've always been more of a doctor," I said. Though I'd fought on the frontlines, my primary role had always been healing the wounded.

"No one understands the value of life better than you do, Charles. That's exactly what these untrained children need to learn," Kent said, clenching his fist as if emphasizing the point.

"Is that so?" I mused. Being a hero isn't just about combat skills; moral strength is just as crucial... Wait—what did he just say? "Hold on. Did you say 'untrained children'?"

"Yes," Kent said, spreading his arms wide. "While the darkness still slumbers, we must nurture the next generation of protectors. Even a city like Gotham, soaked in hatred and despair, can give rise to heroes."

I felt more lost than ever. "So... am I supposed to find them?" I asked, trying to piece together his cryptic message.

"You've already found one. The rest will come to you in time," he replied, his tone as enigmatic as always.

"One? Are you talking about Brian? He's only eight years old; he's just a child," I said, perplexed. "Brian is far too young and unprepared to face the horrors of battle."

"He'll turn nine soon," Kent said, walking over to the window. He nodded in the direction outside. I joined him and saw Brian climbing into a car, his expression pensive. "He has immense potential, but his path will not be an easy one."

"What do you mean by a 'difficult path'?" I asked, concerned about what challenges might await Brian.

Kent remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the car as it drove away. Then, in a grave tone, he spoke. "He will either align himself with good and help defeat the coming evil... or—"

"Or?" I interrupted, dreading the answer.

"Or he will stand alongside evil, aiding its efforts to destroy this world," Kent finished, sighing deeply as he turned to look at me.

"I don't believe it. But you've never been wrong before," I said, slumping into my chair. Determined, I added, "I'll do everything in my power to ensure he stays on the right path."

"The key is to guide him carefully," Kent said, heading toward the door.

"What if he makes the wrong choice?" I asked, my voice trembling with fear.

Kent paused with his hand on the doorknob. Without turning, he answered, "Then you'll make the only choice left. Evil must not gain strength." With that, he left, closing the door behind him.

I sat there, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a leaden shroud. Opening a drawer, I retrieved a bottle of whiskey and poured myself a glass. My hand shook as I raised it to my lips.

Kent's cryptic warning wasn't lost on me. He was telling me, in his roundabout way, that if Brian succumbed to the darkness, I might have to stop him—permanently. It wouldn't be the first time I'd faced such a grim decision, but the thought of having to take the life of a child, one with his entire future ahead of him, was unbearable.

But Doctor Fate had already placed a heavy burden on Brian's shoulders, and even more on mine.

I resolved to prepare Brian, to make him strong—both in body and in spirit. His mind must be fortified against the tragedies that awaited him, because if Kent's prophecy was true, those tragedies would come sooner than anyone wanted.

I glanced at the whiskey bottle, then made a decision. Lifting it to my lips, I drank straight from the neck. Tonight, I wanted to forget the war, forget the past, forget the burdens of heroes. But deep down, I knew that tomorrow, I'd have to face the reality of what lay ahead.