Chapter 1: A New Life.
10+ chapters on P@treon.com/Saintbarbido.
-0-
Reincarnation is a real thing.
I never believed it was possible to be reborn after dying. Especially with your memories intact.
But it happened to me, soo...I guess anything is possible.
Here's the kicker, I wasn't just given a second chance at life in a normal world. Oh no no no.
The entity or God responsible for my second life sent me to the crazy world of the DC Universe.
At first I had no idea where I was. And I didn't try that hard to find out either. I mean, I was a normal kid with only faint memories of a past life.
My childhood years were thus spent building sand castles, playing catch with my Dad and basically being a brat. At least in my Parent's eyes.
All until a kid named Clark Kent saved our school bus from falling off a bridge.
That's when my past life memories decided to pour in. I was 13 at the time.
The influx of 38 years worth of information was hell. I was hit by migraines almost every day for a full year.
And occasionally, I would black out at school/home or start mumbling incoherently.
I think my mind was trying to come to terms with the memories and ended up bloated.
It got so serious that my parents had to take me to a mental health specialist when I was 14. There, I ended up being diagnosed with split personality disorder.
15, 16 and 17 were spent popping medication pills and trying to adjust to my new condition.
Fortunately, I got better. It wasn't easy, but I followed the instructions given, took my medicine and did everything right.
By the time I was ready to graduate High School, the memories had settled within me and I no longer got headaches or blackouts. It was a testament that sometimes hardwork pays.
And with two sets of memories, school was not a problem. I did well on my tests and actually became Valedictorian, surprising many people and making my parents proud.
Unfortunately, the world was determined to set the scales right. All my success became meaningless when I lost my Mom and Dad to a car crash.
It was the most unexpected way for them to go.
I mean, this was a world fraught with danger. Whether it was from supervillains, demons, aliens...it felt underwhelming and cheap for them to die in a car crash.
I even tried to investigate, hoping to find something that would give my loss a meaning. Some villain to blame.
But it turned out to be the wet road, which caused a truck to lose control and slam into their car.
I couldn't even direct my anger to the driver as he had died too, thrown out of the window by the impact. His only mistep being the failure to wear a seat belt.
A lot of people showed up for the funeral. My parents were well known and loved by many. Smallville was a small place so everyone knew almost everyone else.
Even the Kents showed up. Jonathan Kent gave his heartfelt condolences with his wife Martha. Clark looked apologetic and understanding. It felt like he could relate.
But once everyone was gone, I realized how truly alone I was. The house felt unbearable.
For 18 years, Travis and Angela Hawthorn had been my rock. My shield. They had protected me, cared for me and I had truly come to love and respect them as my parents. But now they were gone and I was confused at what to do.
That night I cried myself to sleep. When I woke up the following day, I had made a decision.
I would rent out our ranch and move.
Selling it was out of the option.
Even if it meant I would only receive a small sum of money every month, 1000-1500 dollars to be exact, I couldn't let go of the memories we had created in our modest home.
Modest was a stretch however, seeing as the entire land was about 90 acres.
There was a substantial tax on a ranch that big, otherwise I would have received a lot more money. According to Jonathan Kent at least.
He was the one who helped me finalize the deal, and I appointed him as overseer before packing up my stuff, loading it on the Pick up truck Dad had got me for my 18th birthday, and left Smallville, Kansas.
My name is Michael Hawthorn, and this is the story of my not-so-normal life in DC. The only thing I can say, is I wish I'd been better prepared.
-10 years later-
The day had been long, filled with meetings, deadlines, and the usual hustle of the office.
But as I turned the key in the lock and stepped into our home, a wave of warmth washed over me.
The scent of dinner wafted through the air, and the sound of little feet pattering towards me made my heart swell with joy.
"Daddy!"
My five-year-old daughter, Emily, bounded towards me, her face lighting up the room with her radiant smile.
She wrapped her tiny arms around my legs, hugging me tightly.
"Hey there, my little artist,"
I said, ruffling her hair as I bent down to her level.
"What have you been up to today?"
Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she held up a piece of paper.
"Look, Daddy! I drew a picture of our family!"
I took the drawing from her hands and admired her work. There we were, stick figures with big smiles, standing in front of a house with a sun shining brightly overhead.
Emily had drawn herself in the middle, holding hands with me and her mom.
"It's beautiful, Emily."
I said, genuinely impressed by her creativity.
"You're getting better every day."
She beamed with pride and took my hand, leading me to the kitchen where my wife, Sarah, was setting the table for dinner.
Sarah turned and smiled warmly at me, her eyes reflecting the same love and happiness that I felt.
"Dinner's almost ready."
she told me, planting a quick kiss on my cheek.
"How was your day?"
"Long," I admitted, "but it's so good to be home."
We sat down to eat, and the evening passed in a blur of laughter and conversation.
Emily chattered away, telling us about her day at preschool and all the new things she had learned.
After dinner, we put her to bed. I read her a story, and Sarah sang her a lullaby. As we stood by her bedside, watching her drift off to sleep, I felt a deep sense of contentment. In my past life, I'd been alone. I was glad this one was different.
Sarah took my hand and led me to our bedroom. She could always tell when I was tired, and tonight was no exception.
There had been a shipment coming in and one of the guys messed up the numbers. Mr. Fox, who was my boss at Wayne Industries where I worked, was NOT happy. We had to stay late to work out the issue.
"You look exhausted."
Sarah said softly, her eyes filled with concern.
"Come to bed, love."
I nodded, too weary to argue. As we lay down, she snuggled close to me, her warmth and presence soothing my tired soul.
"I'm so lucky to have you." I whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"And I'm lucky to have you." Came the reply, her voice filled with love.
We lay there in the quiet, the only sound being her gentle moans as we made love.
Despite the exhaustion, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace and gratitude.
In that moment, I knew that no matter how tough the days could be, coming home to my beautiful wife and precious daughter made everything worthwhile.
I drifted off to sleep, holding onto the image of Emily's drawing.
-0-
Late in the night, I jolted awake, my head pounding and my vision blurry.
I found myself sitting in a chair in the living room, arms painfully bound behind my back.
Panic surged through me as I tried to move, only to find that my wrists were tightly tied. The warm comfort of my wife's body was replaced by a chilling dread.
"Sarah?"
I called out, my voice cracking with fear.
My heart stopped when I saw her across the room, tied to a chair just like me.
Her eyes were wide with terror, and she was struggling against her bonds.
"Michael!"
she cried, her voice trembling. "Where's Emily? Have you seen Emily?"
My blood ran cold. Emily. Where was Emily?
"Good evening, folks!"
A voice, dripping with madness and malevolence, echoed through the room.
I turned my head, and my heart sank into an abyss of despair. No. Not us. Oh God. Why...what's he doing here!!??!
The Joker, with his grotesque smile and twisted eyes, stood in the doorway, holding a small, struggling figure. My daughter.
"Emily!"
I screamed, straining against my bindings.
"Let her go, you monster!"
The Joker cackled, the sound filling the room with an eerie resonance.
He held Emily up by the scruff of her dress, her tiny feet kicking desperately in the air.
"Oh, don't worry, Daddy. We're just going to have a little fun."
he sneered, his eyes gleaming with insanity.
I wanted to kill him. How dare he?!!
"Please, no! Let her go!"
Sarah begged, tears streaming down her face.
"Please, she's just a child!"
The Joker ignored her, his focus entirely on me and the hateful glare I was sending him.
Unfazed, he took out a knife and brought it close to Emily's face, making her cry out in fear.
Seeing her like that broke something in me. I cursed myself for being weak. What was I thinking, this was DC!
"Stop! Please, I'll do anything!"
I shouted, my voice breaking with desperation.
"Anything?"
The Joker's smile widened. "Now, that's what I like to hear."
He placed Emily on the floor and walked over to me, the knife glinting in his hand. He crouched down, his face inches from mine. The stench of his breath made me gag, but I couldn't look away from those crazed eyes.
"You see, Daddy, it's all a game," he whispered.
"And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."
He turned and walked back to Emily, who was now huddled in a corner, sobbing. He raised the knife, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.
"No! Please, no!"
I screamed, my voice raw with agony.
With a swift motion, the Joker brought the knife down. Emily's scream pierced the night, and everything went black.
--
I woke up with a start, drenched in sweat, my heart hammering in my chest.
I was back in our bed, the room dark and silent. Reaching out, I felt Sarah beside me, her steady breathing a soothing reminder of reality, beautiful blonde hair sprayed out on the pillow.
"Sarah,"
I whispered, my voice shaking.
"It was just a dream... just a nightmare."
She stirred and turned towards me, concern etched on her face.
"Michael, what's wrong?"
"I... I had a nightmare,"
I said, my voice barely audible.
"It was so real..."
She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me close.
"It's okay, love. It was just a dream. We're safe."
I melted into her embrace, my heart rate calming down. And as she held me I felt her giggling softly.
The sound grew louder and more manic.
My heart sank as I pulled away and saw her face, twisted into a grotesque grin, her eyes wide with terror.
"No... no, no, no..."
I stammered, realizing the nightmare was far from over.
The laughter echoed around the room, and I saw her eyes rolling back.
"Sarah, what's happening to you?"
I begged, but she continued to laugh uncontrollably.
Suddenly, the darkness of the room shattered and I found myself back in the chair, my body aching and bloody from a brutal beating.
An...an hallucination...
I had briefly passed out from the pain of having my shins and hands broken by a bat. One of my eyes was shut and everything was painted red under the other one.
Sarah was still in her chair, her hands broken from struggling against her bindings, frothing at the mouth, her laughter a symphony of horror.
"Welcome back, sleepyhead."
the Joker's voice cut through the haze. He stood there with Harley Quinn, who was holding a crying Emily. She must have been so terrified.
My heart shattered as I realized this could be it for us. This was Joker. Maybe if I beg hard enough...he'll let them go. Or at least Emily.
"Please."
I whispered through bloodied and bursted lips, my voice barely audible.
"Please, let them go."
The Joker threw his head back and laughed.
"Let them go? Oh, Daddy, you're killing me!"
"Why are you doing this?"
I sobbed. "Is it because I work at Wayne Industries?"
The Joker and Harley looked at each other and burst into hysterical laughter.
"Wayne Industries? We didn't even know you worked there! Isn't that a riot?"
the Joker cackled.
One of the three goons in the corner hesitated, then spoke up,
"Boss, I hear sirens..."
The Joker spun around, pulled out a golden gun and shot him point-blank.
"Don't interrupt me when I'm having fun!"
He turned back to Harley.
"Come on, let's bail and find Scarecrow. He promised this mix of Joker venom and his toxin would make someone laugh in terror until their heart exploded, but the wife seems to have gone mad instead."
Harley looked at Emily.
"What about the little one?"
The Joker's smile widened.
"Let her go."
Harley did so.
Emily ran to me, crying,
"Daddy, Daddy!"
"Thank you, thank you,"
I sobbed over her shoulder, as she hugged my bloodied form.
"Thank you for sparing their lives."
The Joker paused at the door.
"You're welcome. Oh, and I forgot to mention, what does a rabid dog do?"
He shot at Sarah's cuffs, releasing her.
Sarah's laughter stopped. She began growling, her eyes wild and feral as she looked our way, sights lingering on Emily.
I didn't see anything that remained of my wife in those eyes. My heart sped up in fear as I realized, the Joker hadn't spared us.
"Emily, run!"
I shouted.
"Lock yourself in your room and don't open it!"
Emily obeyed, running up the stairs, but Sarah cleared the distance quicker, grabbing our daughter's leg and throwing her back down.
"No! Sarah, stop!"
I screamed myself hoarse, trying to move. The chair tipped over and I fell to the floor.
Sarah didn't even spare a look my way as she lunged at Emily, her eyes empty and soulless.
As I watched, helpless and broken, my wife, under the influence of the Joker's enhanced venom, began to devour our daughter.
"NOOOO!!"
I screamed and cried, lunging against my restraints, but there was nothing I could do. My world shattered as I lost everything I held dear.