After their conversation wound down, the group's attention inevitably turned to the defeated Kryptonian forces still floating helplessly in Marcus's magnetic grip. The recent battle had given them all valuable combat experience, but these prisoners represented a far greater challenge than they'd just faced.
"You know, I actually have a lot of respect for them," Marcus said thoughtfully, gesturing with one hand as General Zod and his followers bobbed gently through the air like leaves caught in an invisible current. "If they were willing to coexist with humanity instead of trying to terraform Earth into a new Krypton, this planet would enter an unprecedented age of advancement."
The casual way he spoke about beings who had nearly destroyed Metropolis gave Bruce pause. But as he studied the unconscious Kryptonians more carefully, he had to admit there was truth to Marcus's words. Despite being his enemies, these weren't mindless monsters or power-hungry conquerors. They were soldiers who had watched their entire civilization die, desperately trying to preserve the only remnant of their people's legacy.
"Compared to Kryptonians, humans are primitive in every measurable way," Bruce said quietly, his analytical mind already cataloging the implications. "Technology, physical capabilities, lifespan – we can't compete on any front."
He thought of Bane, probably the strongest enhanced human he'd ever encountered in Gotham. Even with his venom-enhanced strength, the man was a shadow compared to what he'd witnessed today. Bane's chemical augmentation came with severe costs: addiction, gradual mental degradation, and ultimately a complete loss of sanity. And even at his peak, Bane's enhanced strength was temporary, requiring constant chemical maintenance.
The Kryptonians needed none of that. Under Earth's yellow sun, they were naturally superhuman in every way that mattered.
"If demons and Kryptonians exist in our universe," Bruce continued, his strategic mind racing ahead to darker possibilities, "then there must be other inhabited worlds out there. Other species with their own agendas. If another alien race decides Earth needs to be conquered or cleansed..."
He didn't need to finish the thought. Without adequate preparation, without contingencies and countermeasures, humanity would be defenseless.
"Teacher, we need to—"
"Let's head down and discuss this properly," Marcus interrupted smoothly. "As for our Kryptonian friends here, I think they'll be much more comfortable as guests aboard the Railjack Dark Aster."
Without waiting for a response, he gestured again. The metallic sphere from the World Engine – still containing significant amounts of kryptonite – expanded like a flowering bud and engulfed the unconscious prisoners. The improvised prison cell then streaked through the sky toward the massive ship hanging in orbit above them.
"The kryptonite in that containment unit will keep their powers suppressed," Marcus explained conversationally. "They'll be as vulnerable as ordinary humans until I decide what to do with them. Combined with Will's security systems and the ship's own defenses, they're not going anywhere."
With their captives secured, Marcus turned his attention to the devastation below. The World Engine's gravity manipulation had turned several city blocks into twisted wreckage, buildings compressed and warped into impossible shapes. Emergency sirens wailed in the distance as first responders tried to reach survivors trapped in the ruins.
"This is exactly why you need to remember something crucial," Marcus said, his voice taking on the stern tone Bruce and Selina remembered from their training days. "Superhuman power brings superhuman destruction. When you're fighting someone on your level or above, your first priority has to be getting them away from populated areas."
His gaze fixed on Clark with particular intensity. "Especially you, Clark. You're the strongest among them now, which means you have the greatest potential for collateral damage."
Clark shifted uncomfortably under his teacher's scrutiny. The Crushing Ruin techniques had given him incredible offensive capabilities, but Marcus was right – he still struggled with fine control during intense combat. His most recent fight had created shockwaves that would have leveled buildings if not for Marcus's intervention.
Bruce and Selina, by contrast, had spent decades learning to focus their power with surgical precision. Their enhanced daggers had channeled every ounce of force exactly where it needed to go, eliminating threats without creating secondary damage.
"I understand," Clark said seriously. "I'll work on better control."
"Good. Now then," Marcus's expression softened, "you should get back to Jonathan and Martha. They've been worried sick about you."
The name hit Bruce like a physical blow, stopping his thoughts mid-stream. Martha. His mother's name, the word that could still make his chest tighten with grief even after all these years. He stared at Clark in amazement, struggling to process this strange coincidence.
Marcus caught Bruce's reaction immediately, mentally kicking himself for the oversight. Of course Bruce would react to hearing his mother's name in this context.
"You miss them, don't you?" Marcus asked gently, though whether he was addressing Clark or Bruce wasn't entirely clear.
"They've been gone for thirty years," Bruce replied quietly.
"Thirty years," Marcus repeated, shaking his head. "Has it really been that long? I've known all of you for over three decades now. Clark too – I met him when he was just a boy trying to understand why he was different from everyone around him."
The words carried a strange weight, as if Marcus was talking about something that felt both distant and immediate. Time, Bruce realized, might not flow the same way for their teacher as it did for everyone else.
"Clark, head home," Marcus said after a moment. "I need to have a private conversation with these two."
"Okay," Clark nodded, glancing once more at the devastation below before launching himself skyward. His cape billowed behind him as he streaked toward Kansas, toward the farm where his adoptive parents waited – along with Lois Lane, the reporter who'd somehow managed to capture the heart of the Last Son of Krypton.
As Clark disappeared into the distance, Marcus began using his magnetic powers to systematically clean up the area. Twisted metal straightened itself, dangerous debris sorted itself into manageable piles, and unstable building fragments were carefully relocated away from potential survivors. He couldn't bring back those who'd died in the initial gravity wave, but he could at least make the rescue efforts easier for the emergency teams.
"Come on," Marcus said, gesturing toward the Railjack Dark Aster. "This isn't the right place for the conversation we need to have."
The ship's interior was even more impressive than Bruce had expected. Vast corridors branched off in multiple directions, leading to sections that seemed to stretch beyond what the external dimensions should have allowed. Everything was pristine, organized with military precision, but somehow felt welcoming rather than sterile.
Marcus led them to a comfortable lounge area furnished with what appeared to be genuine leather furniture and subtle mood lighting. As they settled into chairs, his Mag frame dissolved in a shimmer of energy, revealing the more casual clothing underneath.
"I have to say, I'm genuinely impressed," Marcus began, studying his two former students with evident pride. "Your performance out there exceeded even my expectations."
The praise meant more to both of them than they cared to admit. Twenty years of wondering if they'd lived up to their teacher's standards, if their endless training and practice had been worth the sacrifice.
"Your mastery of the combat forms has reached what I'd consider peak human level," Marcus continued. "What's limiting you now isn't skill – it's raw power. You've hit the ceiling of what unenhanced humans can achieve."
It was true, and they all knew it. In their recent fight, Marcus had given them just enough energy to match their Kryptonian opponents, not enough to overwhelm them. Yet Bruce and Selina had made that limited enhancement look effortless, channeling every ounce of borrowed power with devastating efficiency.
"We've been practicing everything you taught us," Bruce explained, his eyes continuing to roam over the ship's interior. "Fighting enhanced humans, creatures that shouldn't exist, things that most people would call monsters. Twenty years of that builds up real experience fast."
"I can tell," Marcus smiled.
"Teacher, I have to ask – where is everyone? A ship this size should have hundreds of crew members." Bruce asks
"Will," Marcus called out, snapping his fingers. "Say hello to my students."
The air above the coffee table shimmered, and suddenly a complex geometric form materialized – thousands of interconnected lines and nodes forming patterns that seemed to shift and evolve as they watched.
"Greetings, students of the Commander," the construct spoke in a warm, clearly artificial voice. "I am Will, the central intelligence of the Railjack Dark Aster. I manage all ship operations, from navigation to life support to tactical systems."
Bruce and Selina exchanged startled glances. They'd encountered plenty of advanced technology in their years protecting Gotham, but nothing approaching this level of sophistication. Earth's most advanced AI systems were barely capable of holding coherent conversations, let alone running something as complex as a starship.
"Hello," they managed somewhat weakly.
"Teacher," Bruce began carefully, "are you also—" He stopped, unsure how to finish the question without giving offense.
"Alien?" Marcus supplied with obvious amusement. "No, I'm human. Just... not from here. Does that make sense?"
Both students shook their heads.
Marcus chuckled and produced a small data drive from seemingly nowhere, inserting it into a port concealed within the lounge's entertainment system. "I was planning to explain this eventually anyway. Since you're both asking, we might as well get it out in the way."
The room's lighting dimmed as holographic projectors came to life around them.
"You've heard of parallel universe theory, right?" Marcus asked.
They nodded. The concept wasn't exactly mainstream science, but both had encountered enough impossible things in their lives to keep open minds about theoretical physics.
"Parallel universes are essentially infinite variations on the same basic reality," Marcus explained as abstract diagrams appeared in the air around them. "Same fundamental laws of physics, same general history, but with variations. Maybe Bruce Wayne becomes a doctor instead of Batman in one universe. Maybe Selina Kyle never turns to theft in another. The possibilities are literally endless."
"But what does that have to do with you?" Selina asked. "Are you from a parallel Earth?"
"Not exactly." Marcus gestured, and the diagrams shifted, showing clusters of universes arranged in larger structures. "I'm not from a parallel world – I'm from an entirely different multiverse altogether. Think of it as a collection of all possible universes, grouped together. I come from a completely separate collection."
The holographic display flickered and changed, now showing what appeared to be documentary footage of people in unusual situations. Bruce recognized the setting as modern Earth, but something felt subtly wrong about it.
"What you're seeing now are people from one of the worlds I've visited," Marcus explained. "They're called mutants – humans born with extraordinary abilities that manifest during adolescence or times of extreme stress."
The footage showed a man with strange, angular features creating rings of metal that expanded to encompass entire city blocks. In the distance, a massive pyramid-shaped structure dominated the skyline like something out of ancient Egypt.
"This is Eric Lehnsherr," Marcus said, pointing to the metal-manipulating figure. "His power is magnetism, just like mine, though he approaches it very differently. Most people know him as Magneto."
The scene shifted dramatically. Storm clouds gathered with unnatural speed, and lightning began falling like rain. Through the electrical chaos, they could see a woman with white hair and eyes that glowed with inner storm-light, her hands crackling with barely controlled energy.
"Ororo Munroe, codenamed Storm," Marcus continued. "She controls weather patterns on a massive scale. Lightning, wind, rain, snow – if it happens in the atmosphere, she can make it dance to her will."
More figures appeared in the projection: a man with ruby-red glasses whose eyes could apparently cut through steel, a woman whose skin could shift between flesh and diamond, another who could phase through solid matter as if it didn't exist.
"Each mutant has different abilities, different power levels," Marcus explained. "Some can read minds, others can heal from any injury, still others can teleport across continents in an instant."
Bruce and Selina watched with growing unease. Fighting a few Kryptonian survivors was one thing, but an entire world full of superpowered individuals? The logistics alone were nightmarish.
"You're probably thinking this sounds like a human nightmare," Marcus observed. "A world where ordinary people have to live alongside beings who could reshape reality on a whim."
Both students nodded emphatically.
"Well, you're not wrong. In fact, that world came very close to complete extinction – not because the mutants destroyed humanity, but because humanity tried to destroy the mutants first."
The projection shifted again, focusing on a blue-skinned woman whose appearance seemed to flow and change like liquid mercury.
"This is Raven Darkholme, codenamed Mystique," Marcus said grimly. "Her ability is perfect shapeshifting – she can become anyone, duplicate their voice, even fool DNA scanners. She was captured by a scientist named Bolivar Trask, who performed horrific experiments on her to understand how her powers worked."
The scene changed to show massive robotic figures, easily three times the height of a normal person, their bodies apparently constructed from some kind of adaptive metal.
"Using Mystique's DNA, Trask created the Sentinel program. Robots capable of copying mutant abilities and adapting their own structures to counter any threat. They were supposed to be the ultimate anti-mutant weapon."
The robots in the projection moved with terrifying efficiency, their bodies shifting and changing as they engaged various mutants in combat. What had looked like solid metal moments before became liquid, then gas, then some kind of energy field.
"But here's the thing about genocide," Marcus said quietly. "It never stops where you think it will. The Sentinels didn't just target active mutants – they went after anyone with mutant genes, including dormant ones. And it turned out that virtually every human on Earth carried at least some mutant genetic markers."
The implications hit both students like a physical blow.
"The machines meant to save humanity from mutants ended up classifying all humans as potential mutants," Marcus continued. "Within a few decades, both species were on the verge of complete extinction. Cities turned into graveyards, entire continents depopulated. I arrived just in time to help them prevent a temporal paradox that would have made the situation even worse."
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