"Hi, I'm Karen, the President of Kew Hill Section 3 Neighbourhood," said a middle-aged woman, who wore a purple dress, held a clipboard in one hand and stood in front of the house, smiling widely.
"I'm sorry to disturb you Mr. ?" The woman asked.
"Krace."
"Yes, Mr. Krace. I was just walking around here, guarding our neighbourhood from the, but then, I saw there was light in this house. I have lived here for the past two years, but I've never seen you." Karen wasn't backing down, her hand twitching on the clipboard as if ready to fight, but her face was still smiling. A fake smile barely covered her irritation.
'What is this lady doing?! Is she going to fight me?' Krace thought to himself.
The size between both of them was like an adult and a child, but maybe because Krace only parted the door slightly ajar and covered most of his body with it except the head, making Karen too confident with herself.
"I think you should get out of the house before I call the police, or they will arrest you for trespassing and stealing." She warned with a stern face.
"I'm sorry?"
'I sure do miss Alfred, especially in these moments. Did he face strange people that came knocking on the door?'
Krace trying to clear the misunderstanding, replied, "Look, you haven't seen me before because I've been outstation for a few years."
Karen didn't budge and stood there, demanding Krace to get out. The atmosphere was tense, at least for Karen anyway, not for Krace, he couldn't care less.
Krace sighed as he massaged his nose. Suddenly, an elderly woman's voice from the side interrupted them, "Beat it out, Karen! I know him. You busybody, nobody votes you to be the president. Don't you have work?"
"Marilyn!" She hissed like a cat competing for territory. "Crazy lady," Karen grumbled quietly, but it didn't escape Krace's hearing.
Karen shot a venomous look at the old woman, but her resolve visibly faltered. Turning her face back to Krace, she muttered under her breath, "You'll see."
"I'll call the police on you!" She turned abruptly, storming down the street, clipboard in hand.
Krace watched her go, giving a slight nod to the old woman. "Thanks."
"Don't worry about her, honey," the woman grumbled. "She's got too much time on her hands. But you…" She paused, looking at Krace with a strange mix of recognition and curiosity, almost like she recognised him. "How come you become taller since I saw you?," she asked, before quickly answering herself with a smile, "Kids these days. They still growing until 40 years old."
'Crazy lady indeed.' Krace thought to himself.
Before Krace could respond, she changed the subject. "Darling, come and have breakfast with me," Marilyn offers. The words were friendly, but her tone left no room for argument.
"Thank you, but there's no need to burden yourself." Krace declined politely.
"Nonsense," she interrupted, waving off his protest. "Think of it as keeping an old woman company." The old woman beckoned.
Krace didn't have anything at home and, considering the lady had just defused an awkward situation, he found himself nodding in agreement.
'Why not? No harm in it.'
.
.
Inside an old house.
As Krace stepped inside, the scent of aged wood and faint perfume filled the air. The furniture was sturdy, well-worn, and unmistakably from decades past. Dark mahogany pieces with intricate carvings lined the living room—an old-brand cabinet, displaying delicate porcelain plates, a large grandfather clock ticking softly in the corner, and a faded floral-patterned couch that sagged slightly in the middle.
On the walls hung numerous portraits, framed in antique gold. The most striking ones were of her family. One particularly large portrait showed a young man in a WWII military uniform, staring stoically into the camera—her husband, undoubtedly a veteran of the war.
"That's my husband. He used to serve in the war." She said while smiling. "He would show off his medal everywhere we went, trying to get a discount, even from a petrol station. A cheap one he was." Marilyn laughed while reminiscing her memories. "Died a few years ago." Her one soured from the bitter memory.
Surrounding this central portrait were pictures of her children at various stages of life—school photos, graduations, weddings. Each image showed a piece of the family's journey, but there was an undeniable gap in the more recent years.
"The kids are all grown up, having their own family and living far away. Those ungrateful brats!" She said venomously. "Can't even make time to visit their old poor mother."
Even though she said all the bitter words, the pictures were still hanging there, proof of the mother's love for her children.
Old, faded curtains hung from the windows, allowing just enough sunlight to cast a soft glow over the room. The place was immaculately clean, yet there was a layer of time that couldn't be dusted away—a home where memories lingered like ghosts in the shadows.
Krace's eyes drifted to a small table near the couch, where a rotary phone sat next to a collection of unopened letters. Everything about this house spoke of a life once full, now quieter, yet still dignified in its stillness.
"Come here and sit at the table." Marilyn set the table with dishes of scrambled eggs, toast, baked beans and some pies."
Both of them shared the breakfast together. The taste of homemade food was different from restaurant food. Although it's not as delicious as a chef's cook, there's a unique warmth in the dish.
As Krace was eating, Marilyn asked, "What about you? Got any family?"
Krace stopped eating, kept quiet for a moment, and then answered, "Yes, I have four sons, three daughters, and a father."
"Oh, never took a handsome lad like you as a family man. People with your appearance are rare. How are they?" Marilyn continued.
"I hope they're fine."
"You don't know how they're doing? Listen, child, family is important. No matter how big your fight between each other, try to reconcile. In this harsh world, it is hard to find reliable people to stand by us. At the end of the day, a traveller needs to set up a tent for shelter to protect himself from the rain. Like that, at the end of the day, we need a home and people to shelter us from the world."
Krace smiled "Many times, they help me."
Krace, when he was Batman. Many times, he found he was on the brink of the abyss, and they were always there to pull him back up, saving him from falling deeper. Alfred, with his advice, Dick, with his antics and others help in their own way.
"No, they are missing, and I'm trying to find them to return home."
"Sorry about that, darling. I hope I can help, but I'm just an old lady. Maybe you can give me their pictures, and I'll ask around."
"Thank you, but that's ok. They are… far away."
A few minutes of talk later, Marilyn stated her purpose for inviting Krace.
"Honey, can you help me change the broken light in the bathroom and kitchen? And might as well fix the leaking pipe, and there's a cobweb in the high corner of the room, can you clean it?" And she listed all the house's problems that needed a man's touch.
Krace smiled and promised that he would visit Marilyn every week to help if there was any and accompany the lonely lady.
.
.
.
[August, two months later]
The weather was warmer because the winter had officially finished. Green pastures can be seen everywhere decorating the land with its colours.
Inside a house in Queens, a man was writing in a book, recording his insights and journey in a journal. As he flipped the pages, the stories and records depicted what he had written.
_________
[Krace's Journal]
3rd June 2000
I'm still alive, somehow. After the explosion, I woke up in an alley two months ago. The world that I am in right now is unrecognisable, but I believe that the other might still be alive. Reasons? Because I'm alive. Maybe due to cosmic interference disturbing the space-time continuum, I, who is supposed to be dead, was brought back alive. So, there are chances that others are also alive…I hope so.
Hope, the only thing that's keeping me sane right now.
I've come to the conclusion that this strange predicament happens because of two reasons. Either someone has tampered with history and erased all data on the Bat-family and the Justice League members, or I'm in an alternate universe.
Either way, I will find my family.
In the first case of the above, the solution I've prepared is through investigating and searching for any traces of the Bat-family and the leagues. It is impossible to erase history without leaving any traces because everybody makes mistakes, everybody.
I'll need to hack the governments all around the world and send scouts to places where the members may reside. Maybe it'll give some clues.
A sophisticated hacking program is required as there is a risk of being detected by advanced technology. Steps need to be taken to avoid being discovered by the opposing or any third party.
If the hypothesis is false, the remaining one is I'm stranded in an alternate universe. Solution: I'll need to build a teleportation device that is capable of travelling to other universes. Huge energy sources, rare materials, data and scientific models are a requirement to make this possible.
Either solutions needs a lot of resources and money, ranging from millions to billions, which I currently don't possess.
To combat this obstacle, I've decided to invest in the gaming and entertainment industry. This step is taken to avoid any unwanted attention and distraction. After establishing a foothold in the industry and gaining enough assets, I'll move into the technology industry through the production of everyday gadgets and technology for middle and low-class income, such as gaming consoles, mobile phones, computers and house appliances.
If data or materials are required from outer space, I'll branch the company into telecommunication. With permission from the government, I'll be able to send a custom satellite to the space without garnering attention.
I know they are still alive.
There's no other option. I won't let there be.
________
A/N: Sorry for the late chapter. I've been busy with other stuff. I'm also trying to write 10 chapters ahead, so there will be a continuation in the story if I'm busy, but failed, couldn't make it. It's too hard Just to let you know, I'm writing this ff with the main goal of improving my writing, so I'll prioritise the language instead of the story. That's why this novel won't have a consistent update, but it'll continue for a long time. I won't drop the novel because I can't get the story out of my head. Thanks for reading.
The new chapter will be posted tomorrow.