(Bruce POV)
So let me get this started. What is the situation?
There are some things I need to take care of. First of all, there are the shareholders and the board of directors of Wayne Enterprises. Those vermin need to be put on a leash. Then there is the problem with emancipation... I doubt that good ol' Sam will allow a 10-year-old to become emancipated. But what do I know? So the problem with a 'legal' guardian has to be solved.
On the other hand, why does it have to be solved? From what I remember, everyone's favourite Butler Alfred Pennyworth... was also shot in this version of Bruce Wayne's origin story. And he died and didn't make it. I can tell that this bothers me greatly, but in the same instance that it could bother me, I push all of it down. There shall be no such weakness as sentimentality...
But the feeling remains in the darkest parts of my mind. Mind over matter, though.
I'm curious whether this was made just for me. From the knowledge of this Multiverse, if there is only one character that I could respect, it would definitely be Alfred. I'm no longer what you would call a normal 10-year-old. I am over 14'000 years old, mentally. And some of the things I'm going to do aren't what the weak and 'normal' society would consider appropriate, or the law would allow.
I can work with this new situation. My mind works at tremendous speeds, and my new body reacts as time ticks by. I am no longer a human in the traditional sense. I am much more.
Rick Prime was human at his core, at least. But all the enhancements he did to himself were also part of his template. Then we have Azmuth, a Galvan. The Galvans grow very old and more intelligent as they age. Next, we have the Doctor who wasn't human at all. The Doctor was a renegade Time Lord, part of a species that inhabited the planet Gallifrey.
Time Lords were sensitive to timelines, being able to see "all that is, all that was, all that ever could be," but also "what must not be". They were seen as immortal, or nearly so, in part because of their ability to regenerate.
As for Constantin Valdor... well.
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(3rd Person POV)
A Space Marine was created by the introduction of gene-seed into the body and the implantation of supporting organs. Between them, these modifications reshaped those who received them into living weapons.
By comparison, whatever mysterious bio-alchemy was used to trigger the transformation into a Custodian occurred on an entirely deeper level, taking root in the cells and the soul of an aspirant.
The process of ascension goes beyond the purely physical and spiritual. Those who would join the brotherhood of the Adeptus Custodes were mentally indoctrinated; their psyches were rebuilt from the ground up, their mental architecture fortified as the Imperial Palace itself was fortified in the face of Horus' treachery, until it became an impregnable fastness, or else collapsed under its own weight.
Each aspirant endured thousands of hours of such psycho-indoctrination and mnemic conditioning. Their education was mercilessly absolute, information beaten into the metal of their minds at a punishing rate that drove many mad. They had to grasp not only the tenets of warfare in all its forms, and learn every method of assassination, counter-espionage, threat recognition, and death-dealing known to Mankind, but also expand their minds in far more esoteric directions. Diplomacy and statecraft, astrogation and interstellar geography, history, philosophy, theosophy, artistry and countless other subjects all had to be mastered to a breathtakingly high degree.
Needless to say, the current Bruce Wayne was no longer a normal human being. It was in this regard that the Twister had been lenient in the wishes of the soul. Because the soul had been so upfront with the Twister, he had allowed all of this and more or less broken the 'no-powers' rule. And there was more. To avoid giving Bruce too many problems, his stature remained the same as before integration. Otherwise, the monstorusly large stature of Constantin Valdor would have changed him.
He would naturally grow to the height that Constantin Valdor stood at. But Bruce already had this theory and was planning around this. He knew, though, that he couldn't allow any doctor to order any more tests, such as blood tests, ECGs, or an MRI. He had two normal hearts and a smaller one now, thanks to the Doctor, after all the other things that came from Valdor.
His massive intellect was racing through various scenarios, slowly coming to appreciate the Time Lords' unique way of seeing time.
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(Bruce POV)
If my memory serves me right, and it does, I still have an uncle who will most likely get to be my guardian. Uncle Philip. Philip Walton Kane. He is someone who was important in the New 52. Yeah, the Red Hood gang blackmailed him and made him "Red Hood 347". But that was on Prime Earth, I am convinced that I am not Prime Earth Bruce Wayne. If that were the case, Alfred would have survived. But I will make sure of that later.
Uncle Philip could be useful for me. I have plans for him and how to use him. He will lead the company for me while I do other things. I know just what to create to make him my loyal supporter. I never cared about Philip. I don't know him much. But sentiments matter not. But what about another case, where Uncle Philip is not my guardian?
An interesting thought. I'll deal with that when the time comes.
After guardianship and Wayne Enterprises, I am free to do what I choose and spend my time however I please. The first order of business is to create my new 'garage' or a headquarters where I can place my lab and from where I shall launch my missions. I am disinclined to create a Batcave. Such useless sentiment has no value. On the other hand, staying on theme with the bat has its advantages. It wouldn't be much work anyway.
Mental reminder: Create Meeseeks Box.
That is probably one of the most important inventions. Just imagine having thousands of Meeseeks building a cave the way I want, and I don't even have to lift one finger. Or imagine using them in a fight. I'm certain Batman will have that many 'enemies' in the future. Using Meeseeks could be used to annoy them all to death.
Another important thing is, of course, 'Pickle Bruce'. It has to happen, and it will. Or even better ... 'Pickle Batman'. Oh yes, I can already see it happen. I am going to become the ultimate nuisance and evil in this world. Fear me, vermin!!
Interesting. The different aspects that make me who I am might be fully merged, but while sentimentality is beneath me, it is accepted simply because it's amusing. More thorough observation is required.
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I question the intelligence in my decision to acquire all of the intelligence my four templates offered. In hindsight, I understand that Brainiac and other characters I might have previously designated as arrogant pricks. All this knowledge about the current Multiverse is interesting to say the least.
On the other hand, I stand above all those who call themselves intelligent. The Pickle Batman will happen, and I will watch as the criminals fall into despair due to losing to a pickle. The psychological and emotional damage can't be ignored, as it is often more effective as a weapon than physical force. And since humanity hasn't freed itself of its impractical and nonsensical values yet, this is all the more true. I should start as soon as possible.
The Joker will become the biggest joke.
I should get out of this hospital bed as quickly as possible. This is not going to end well.
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(3rd Person POV)
Bruce rang for a nurse or anyone to come to my room. It didn't take long, and someone came... running. Being a Wayne really made him a VIP. It was good to be wealthy, in any reality.
"Mr Wayne, you woke up! How fortunate we were to be worried about you. How are you feeling?" the woman asked.
"Like I was almost shot..." he said with a straight face.
"... w-well ... I see ... I-I'll go get the doctor, please don't move," she stuttered and then left the room. Bruce noted the woman's weak nerves and shook his head. All the data he observed was immediately stored for later use.
After a few minutes, a man in a white coat walked in. Now, if one were to think in analogies, this would lead them to believe the man is a doctor ... but Bruce knew better than that. This man was NOT a doctor. He was a fraud. Bruce didn't know who he was, but someone or multiple people were keeping watch on him, it seemed.
Bruce could see the way he walked, how his posture changed when he came into the room, and how his eyes moved around, checking for traps, ambushes, and any other danger. So he was either a doctor with amazing paranoia and marvellous martial training, some random martial artist who liked to wear white coats or... something else entirely—an assassin, Bruce concluded, in under a second.
It was fascinating. Bruce could see everything he did and understand why he would do so. Bruce knew that learning wouldn't be hard anymore. But that wasn't why he recognised what the man was. After all that training as Constantin Valdor, he would be pathetic not to identify an assassin, no matter how mortal he was.
This reminded Bruce that he should go on the training trip that most Bruce Waynes across the Multiverse took to 'learn' martial arts. Not because he needed it, oh no. But he wouldn't be much of a Batman if he didn't. And there were multiple reasons for Bruce to go on the training trip, which included characters from all over the world.
But unlike the original Bruce Wayne, he was not going to be so stupid as to travel around as 'Bruce Wayne'.
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"Hello, Mr Wayne, welcome back. I'm Dr Stern. How are you feeling?" the man asked.
"I don't know ... how would you feel if your parents and butler were killed in front of you and you were nearly shot at as well?" Bruce asks him in a monotone voice.
"Not good, I guess," he answered with a smile on his face.
Bruce judged him as barely adequate... for mortal standards. Well-trained and composed. He had his emotions under control.
"Yeah .."
"Are you in pain anywhere? Headaches or stomach pain?" the man asked Bruce as he began to 'check' on him.
He checked for all sorts of pain on palpation. He really knew his stuff, but he didn't do that much of his homework. Some of the things he did didn't do anything, and if he were a real doctor, he would have known that. Unless he were fresh from University... no, even then, he would have known that.
"Yes, my headache is killing me, and my back hurts as well," Bruce told him.
Not because it did, but because it was supposed to. He had been lying in bed for a long time, after all. The fact that he had been lying there for a long time should have made his back hurt a lot.
"I see. Well, that is normal for now after lying so long. I'll see whether I can give you some medication against it. Is there something else you would like? Some food or water?" he asked him.
"Yes ... I'm famished and thirsty," I answered.
"That's good. I'll ask some of the nurses to bring you your food. And you please continue to rest here for the time being," he said and was about to exit the room when Bruce stopped him.
"What about Alfred? ... d-did he ...?" Bruce stuttered on purpose to make it believable.
"He's not out of danger at the moment... But we'll do our absolute best to bring him back to you, alright? So don't worry about it for now and only focus on getting better," he said with fake sympathy on his face.
Bruce only nodded and then looked away. Pathetic. If the man thought Bruce would simply stay there so he had enough time to give his employers notice of his status, he was wrong. It was time for Bruce to start his work. The first problem was Alfred's death. No matter what that fake doctor said, Alfred was dead. Bruce didn't have a butler who could provide him with materials and aid. A laptop would suffice, but one wasn't available at the moment.
That meant he had to make one out of the things found in this room. He chose to do precisely that. But since he knew five hidden cameras were watching him, he had to do it furtively. He wouldn't expose his genius at any point. So what to do? He had an idea. All he had to do was wait for the nurse to come back, then have her run some 'errands' for him.
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After 17 minutes, the same woman in a nurse's outfit entered his room with a tray of food.
"How are you, Mr Wayne? I brought you some food and something to drink. I hope you will like it," she said and placed the tray on his little table.
It covered the lower half of his upper body and gave him some room to move his hands without it being seen on any of the cameras. He calculated it perfectly.
After she left the room, Bruce slowly reached for the fork and knife. He gripped them firmly. Then, he took a bite of the food. It was a soup with vegetables and meat. Surprisingly, it was rather tasty food for hospital standards. But he didn't eat much stopped shortly after.
48 minutes later, the woman returned to check on Bruce. She saw that he hadn't eaten much.
"Oh, you haven't even eaten much. Are you not hungry? Should I take it away?" she asked him in a concerned voice that was genuine. Her genuine care surprised him slightly.
She wasn't acting at all and truly seemed to be concerned that he hadn't eaten much. Judging from her physique and the width of her hips, her demeanour and the slightly whiter part of her ring finger, Bruce calculated her to be a mother. It was the most likely answer, but not certain; more information was needed.
"I- I am hungry ... but ..."
"I see. That's no problem. How about I take this soup, which is now cold anyway, and leave you with the bread? Then you can eat it whenever you wish," she said and then looked at me for a moment with a thoughtful expression.
"How about I turn on the TV? Would you like that? There are some of these new shows that my kids love to watch. I have three children, and they all like to watch these ... cartoons, I think they are. Do you know them? Lonely Tunes? Something like that.
Anyway, they love watching those, and I agree it is funny. So sometimes when I get home early, we all watch it together and have fun. I think it would be a good thing to watch this now.
Now let me see here. I don't know how this Television works that well ... we have one at home, but nothing like this one here. I ... am not sure whether I am doing this right ..."
She tried to get the hang of the TV remote for a few minutes. Surprisingly, she didn't get angry or nervous. Prompts for being a nurse and... most likely also a mother, Bruce thought. That made sense. She finally got it and managed to switch on Looney Tunes. What was there not to like about a rabbit completely disregarding the laws of physics and messing with the hunter? Well, Bruce knew 138 things, but that wasn't what mattered.
"There we go. I'll leave you alone now. If there is anything, then press the button ok?" she told him.
Bruce nodded at her, earning a big, joyful smile from her. Bruce hadn't seen such genuine joy in... over ten millennia.
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After the woman left the room, Bruce was finally alone and could do what he had planned. He made sure that no angle was visible to the cameras. He kept his eyes on the TV as his hands worked methodically and quickly. It was amusingly easy. A TV controller in his hands was more powerful than an extinction-level weapon in the hands of a Man of Iron.
Bruce took the two loaves of bread the nurse had left behind and placed one above the small device he was building. About 12 minutes later, he was finally finished. What once was a TV remote now looked like a children's tower made of bread, parts of a plastic case, a ripped part of his blanket, some spit, two AA batteries and some cables.
Now the only thing that needed to be done was...
*Zzzzzz*
A zapping sound reverberated through the air, and then every electronic device within a radius of 10 meters, no matter how primitive, was turned off. No, saying that wasn't quite right.
"Hm... I think I just stopped time."
Bruce created a small device to stop time, making sure that anyone who was watching this moment. In the present, past and the future, we wouldn't be able to do so. Bruce wanted to lock this moment in time and create a paradox so that no one could come back and change things.
The only question now was how he would cover it up?
"Hmm. Why would I cover my tracks ... when someone else could do that for me? Alright, let me do this real quick," he said to himself.