'I could help him,' Bruce thought. 'One phone call. One anonymous donation. It wouldn't even take effort. I have the money, the resources, the means to completely change his trajectory.'
But that was the problem. Changing Jack Napier's trajectory meant changing everything that came after.
The Joker had been involved in dozens of major events in the original timeline. His presence had shaped Gotham's criminal underworld.
He'd been instrumental in Jason Todd's death, Barbara Gordon's paralysis, countless other tragedies.
Remove him from the equation and all of those events played out differently. Maybe better. Maybe worse. No way to know for sure.
'Batman always said one bad day could break anyone,' Bruce remembered from the comics. 'The Joker believed everyone was one bad day away from becoming like him. He tried to prove it with Commissioner Gordon, with Harvey Dent. The philosophy was twisted, but was the observation wrong?'
Bruce thought about his own bad day. The night his parents died in Crime Alley. That should have broken him. The original Bruce Wayne had been shattered by it, had spent decades as a broken man in a bat costume.
But this Bruce had been given advantages.
The Lock-In System.
Meta-knowledge.
A second consciousness merged with his own. He'd been handed tools to cope with trauma that normal people didn't have access to.
Was it fair to let Jack Napier suffer through his bad day when Bruce could prevent it?
'The greater good argument,' Bruce thought. 'One man's suffering versus potentially thousands of lives saved if the Joker never exists. Utilitarian ethics. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.'
But that logic led to dark places. If it was okay to sacrifice Jack Napier to prevent future deaths, what about other sacrifices?
Where did the line get drawn?
'I need more information,' Bruce decided. 'I'll keep monitoring Napier's situation. When the crisis point gets closer, I'll make a decision based on the specific circumstances. Maybe there's a way to help him without completely derailing the timeline. Or maybe I accept the timeline changes and deal with the consequences.'
'Either way, I am just afraid of a crazy what-if situation.'
The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch period. Bruce stood up and headed back inside, his mind already moving to the next problem.
The Smallville trip was in three weeks. Clark Kent would be there. The future Superman, currently just a farm kid struggling with emerging powers he didn't understand.
'That's the priority,' Bruce thought. 'Clark needs to trust me before he learns the truth about his heritage. If I can position myself as his friend, his ally, someone he can rely on, then when the Justice League needs to form, he'll follow my lead naturally.'
The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes Bruce had long since mastered. He played his role perfectly: exceptional student, helpful classmate, humble genius.
By the time the final bell rang, he'd aced two pop quizzes, helped three students with homework, and turned down four different invitations to social events.
Alfred was waiting outside in the Rolls-Royce.
The butler was seventy-two now but still sharp and vital.
He'd been Bruce's rock for nine years, never questioning the boy's strange dedication to learning and training, always providing support without prying too deeply.
"How was school, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked as they pulled away from Gotham Academy.
"Educational," Bruce said with a slight smile.
"We're taking a trip to Kansas next month. Small town called Smallville. Should be interesting."
"Kansas." Alfred's tone suggested he found that about as interesting as watching paint dry. "I'm sure it will be very... pastoral."
"That's the idea."
They drove through Gotham's streets in comfortable silence. Bruce watched the city pass by his window.
Nine years of careful preparation, and he was finally approaching the next phase of his plan.
Clark Kent. Diana Prince. Barry Allen. Hal Jordan. The core of the Justice League, currently living separate lives with no idea they'd one day be Earth's greatest heroes.
'But they will be,' Bruce thought. 'And when they come together, I'll be ready to lead them. Not as the human who barely keeps up, but as someone they respect and trust. Someone who's proven himself their equal through preparation and determination.'
Wayne Manor loomed ahead, massive and Gothic against the afternoon sky. Home. Training ground.
The place where Bruce Wayne had spent thousands of hours in the Pocket Dimension pushing himself to the absolute limits of human capability.
"Alfred, I'll be in the gym tonight," Bruce said as they pulled up to the manor. "Don't wait up."
"Of course, sir. Will you be dining first, or shall I prepare something for later?"
"Later is fine."
Bruce went straight to his room and changed into training gear. Then he closed the door, locked it, and activated the Pocket Dimension.
Reality shifted. The silent, empty version of Wayne Manor materialized around him.
*[POCKET DIMENSION: ACTIVE]*
*[TIME REMAINING: 24:00:00]*
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